“I could not bear it,” cried Luke. “Heavens, man! have I not been reproached enough?”
“It is not to reproach you, I think, Luke Ross,” said Portlock, softly. “She bade me say to thee, ‘Come to me, if you have any sympathy for my piteous case.’”
Part 3, Chapter VIII.
A Forlorn Hope.
“Come to me if you have any sympathy for my piteous case!”
Sympathy! In his bitter state of self-reproach, he would have done anything to serve her. He felt that he could forgive Cyril Mallow, aid him in any way, even to compromising himself by helping him to escape. But he shrank from meeting Sage: he felt that he could not meet her reproachful eyes.
“You will come and see her?” said the Churchwarden. “Ah, my lad, if we could have looked into the future!”
His voice shook a little as he spoke, but he seemed to nerve himself, and said again—“You will come and see her?”