The Princess Pezzilini glided softly to her side and stood bending over her with looks of compassion; then raising her blue eyes swimming in tears to the faces of the doctor and Mr. Montrose, she said:
“Forgive me; I know that she is most guilty, and that I of all persons should most condemn her, for she has destroyed my benefactress; but she is so young, I cannot help pitying her, for we know that the more guilty the wretched girl may be the more needful of compassion she is.”
The voice of the princess sounding so near her ear caused Eudora to look up; and at the same moment the officer who held the warrant advanced, and laying his hand upon her shoulder, said:
“Miss Eudora Leaton, you are my prisoner.”
She did not understand. She arose quickly to her feet, and looked inquiringly into the face of the constable, and from his face into those of the persons that crowded the room and gathered around her. As her star-like eyes ranged around the circle, the eyes of those she looked upon sank to the ground, while dark frowns lowered upon every brow.
As she gazed, her perplexity gave place to a vague alarm.
“What is the matter? What is the meaning of this?” she inquired, in faltering accents.
An ominous silence followed her question, while the eyes of the crowd were once more fixed sternly upon her.
“Why do you look upon me so? What is it? Will no one speak?” she demanded, while a vague, overpowering terror took possession of her heart.
“Tell her, officer, and put an end to this,” sternly commanded the doctor.