Lady Russell tore it open with shaking hands but Betty did not stir; she stood like a statue; she thought her heart had stopped beating. The older woman clasped the paper to her bosom, murmuring a thanksgiving.
“He is saved!” she cried joyfully, holding out the letter to Lady Clancarty, “your husband is saved! The king grants his life, but exiles him.”
Lady Betty swayed and would have fallen but for her friend. The good woman caught her in her arms.
“That merciful king!” cried Lady Russell, tears streaming down her face; “ah, if I had been so blessed!”
Betty flung her arms around her neck and kissed her.
“I must go to the Tower!” she cried eagerly, after a moment, “I may go now.”
“Nay, madam,” interposed the duke’s messenger respectfully, “his grace did especially charge me to beg you to remain here until he came for you.”
“Ay,” said Lady Russell, glancing at the letter, “he speaks of it here.”
A shade of deep disappointment crossed the youthful face, but she bowed her head.
“I shall await the duke’s pleasure,” she said.