“The right of an old protector of these ladies,” said Montaigne, smiling. “There, do not be angry, my dear sir. I come as a friend. Their interests have been mine for so many years that I, knowing something of the tender passion myself, can sympathise with all. Mind, I do not counsel flight, and if I had been consulted I should not have hesitated to stop you; but as you have taken the irrevocable step, all I can say is—go, get the divorce over as soon as possible, and then I insist upon your marrying my darling ward.”
“Of course, of course!” cried Glen angrily. “Marie, my love,” he whispered, “come.”
“No, no!” cried Ruth, interposing, and clinging to her cousin’s arm. “Marie dear, you will come back?”
Marie looked at her in a piteously helpless fashion, and shook her head.
“My dearest Ruth,” said Montaigne, “your interference is ill-timed. You are fighting against fate. Come, come! I know it seems very dreadful to you, but you must let matters have their course.”
He advanced to take her hand, but she shrank from him with horror.
“No, no!” she cried. “Why do not you interfere?”
“Captain Glen, your train must be nearly due.”
“And Ruth?” said Glen, hesitating. “Will you see her back?”
“Hardly,” said Montaigne, smiling. “She cannot return there; but you can rest content if she is under my charge. Recollect, sir, I have known her almost from a child.”