"In spite of to-day's events?"
"In spite of any thing!"
He draws a long, sighing breath. "Oh," he says, softly, "it would be worth something to possess your friendship. Now,—do you really wish for my advice?"
"Have I not asked for it, or, rather, demanded it, like a true highwayman?"
"Then here is your case: You have a friend; you trust her fully; nothing can shake your faith in her. Suddenly, she does a thing, shocking, incomprehensible, and, in doing it, asks you not to question, for she can not explain; asks you to think of her kindly; to trust her still. Here is a test for your friendship. Others may pry, drag her name about, torture her with their curiosity; she has appealed to you. Respect her secret. Let her bury it if she will, and can; you can not help her. If she has become that bad man's wife, she is past human help. Undoubtedly there is a mystery here; undoubtedly she has acted under the control of some power outside herself; but she has taken the step, and—it is done!"
She draws a long, sighing breath. "You are right," she says, wearily, "your wisdom is simple, but it is wisdom, and I thank you for it; but, oh! if they could have been intercepted. If I could have known—have guessed."
He smiles oddly. "You do not consider," he says, "how cunningly their plans were laid; doubtless they have been waiting some such opportunity. At twelve o'clock, Mr. Lamotte and wife started for the city."
"In my service, alas!"
"At one, Frank Lamotte mounted his horse and rode eastward."
"Alas! also to serve me."