The wretched woman bent down once more to her shameful task.
"'... and this,'" he went on, "'and save an old servant who honours the family....'"
Again she looked up at him.
"Quickly!" he said imperatively, rapping his knuckles upon the table. "Quickly!—or——"
Cowed and subdued, she wrote again. "'... from the anger of Mrs. Admaston,'" came the cool, dictating voice.
She finished, and as she did so her head fell upon her arms and she burst into a fit of hysterical sobs—shaking, convulsed, in a terrible downfall of remorse and shame.
Suddenly—as Collingwood held the precious paper in his hand and looked with a certain compassion at his old friend and companion of so many years, whom he had tortured so dreadfully—a high, joyous voice burst into the room.
It was Peggy calling.
The curtains which led to the terrace were pulled aside and she ran into the drawing-room.
Her face was radiant.