“In any way,” he said, earnestly.
She uttered a low sigh of relief, and stood with one hand pressed upon her side, the other upon her brow, as if thinking; while Portlock sat down by the fire, and, resting his elbows upon his knees, gazed thoughtfully at the warm glow, but intent the while upon what was going on.
“My uncle is very good to me,” said Sage, at length, “and is ready to find me what money is required for the object I have in hand; but I can only obtain paid service, whereas I want the help of one who will work for me as a friend.”
She looked at him to see the effect of her words.
Luke bowed his head sadly.
“I want one who, for the sake of the past,” she continued, speaking excitedly, “and on account of his generous forgiveness of my cruelty and want of faith, will strain every nerve in my behalf.”
She paused again, unable to continue, though fighting vainly to find words.
“I think I understand you,” he replied. “You want me, on the strength of the legal knowledge you credit me with, to make some new effort on your husband’s behalf?”
“It is like madness to ask it,” she said, “and I tremble as I say the words to you whom he so injured; but, Luke, have pity on me. He is my husband,” she cried, piteously, as she wrung her hands, and then, before he could stay her, flung herself upon the carpet, and clung to his knees. “He is the father of my innocent children; for God’s sake try and save him from this cruel fate.”
He remained silent, gazing down at the prostrate figure, as, after an effort or two on his part to raise her, she refused to quit her grovelling attitude, save only to shrink lower, and lay her cheek against his feet.