Pet dropped into a seat, and, feeling sick and giddy, bowed her head on her hands. Never in her life before had she fully realized her own weakness. What would all her boasted strength have availed her but for that heavenly interposition? A moment ago, and she was as a child in the grasp of a giant. What an escape she had had! How she blessed, in her heart, he, whoever it might have been, who had saved her!
Pet’s emotions, no matter of what nature, never lasted long. Ten minutes now sufficed to make “Richard himself again;” and with a short but fervent prayer of thanksgiving, she sat up, drew a long breath of unspeakable relief, and began looking ruefully at her wrists, all black and blue from his iron pressure.
“Natural bracelets!” said Pet, with a slight grimace of pain. “Jet and azure. I can’t say I approve of such violent love-making; it’s unpleasant and excites one—rather! However, ‘the course of true love never did run smooth,’ according to that nice man, Mr. Shakespeare; though I hope it isn’t always as rough as the severe course I underwent just now. Good gracious! What a tiger I have raised in that quondam tutor of mine! Pretty instructor he was for youth, to be sure! But lo! the curtain rises! What is to be the next scene, I wonder?”
As she spoke, the curtain was pushed aside, and a new actor appeared. He walked over to the opposite side of the room, and leaning his elbow on a sort of mantel, gazed with a look of careless curiosity on Pet.
From the moment that young lady laid her black eyes upon him, she gave a violent start, and looked at him in utter amaze. For, save the disparity in their years, and a certain devil-may-care recklessness that this man had, she saw before her the living image of Ray Germaine!
The new-comer was a man apparently about forty years of age, with the bold, handsome features, the flashing black eyes, and raven hair of Ray Germaine. His face was bronzed by sun and wind many shades darker than that of his young prototype; and in his coarse sailor’s garb he looked the very beau ideal of a bold, reckless buccaneer. And yet, withal, he bore about him the same air of refinement Pet had noticed in the woman Marguerite, as if both had originally belonged to a far different grade of society than the branded outlaws to whom they now were joined.
But that likeness—that wonderful resemblance to Ray Germaine—it completely upset Miss Lawless’ nonchalance, as nothing in the world had ever done before. There she sat and stared, unable to remove her eyes from the dark, browned, handsome face that was turned toward her with a look half-careless, half-admiring, and wholly amused.
The man was the first to break the silence.
“You are the young lady they brought here last night, I presume?” he said, watching her curiously.
His voice, too, was like Ray’s, and bespoke him, even if nothing else had done so, above his calling—being those low, modulated tones that can only be educated into a man.