The man stretched his arms to her. As if the blight of her spirit fell upon him, the light died out of his face and he dropped his arms at his sides.
He was a courtly gentleman, cadaverous and shabby as he stood, all the breeding of past generations appearing in him.
"Eagle?" he said. The tone of piteous apology went through me like a sword.
She took his hands and herself drew them around her neck. He kissed her on both cheeks.
"O Cousin Philippe!"
"I have frightened you, child! I meant to send a message first—but I wanted to see you—I wanted to come home!"
"Cousin Philippe, who wrote that letter?"
"The notary, child. I made him do it."
"It was cruel!" She gave way, and brokenly sobbed, leaning helpless against him.
The old marquis smoothed her head, and puckered his forehead under the sunlight, casting his eyes around like a culprit.