He went to her gently, and took both her little ice-cold hands in his, saying kindly:
“My poor girl!”
And the tone, more than the words, revealed to her the depths of love, grief, and pity that filled his noble, generous heart.
She did not speak. She could not; and, after a pause, he continued:
“Prince Gonzaga lies at Mrs. Howard’s house, mortally ill. I had him taken there. I thought it was right, since he acted so nobly this morning.”
She bowed and tried to speak, but her tongue seemed parched, and words died unuttered upon her lips.
“I have come to take you to him,” continued Bayard Lorraine.
She found her voice, and asked falteringly:
“Did he send for me?”
“No; but I read his wish in his eyes when I told him that you still lived,” answered Prince Gonzaga’s generous foe. “You will come, Fair?”