Mr. Lawson knew not what to say. A struggle was going on within. Would he reveal the plot to the truthful girl and ask her assistance—or would he let the secret die with himself and perhaps see the lovely Marguerite become a victim to the merciless trio?
The girl knew not what was passing in her companion's, mind, and the latter felt sadly puzzled. He durst not meet the gaze of the thoughtful brown eyes, but found words to reply:
"You put me in a strange place, Jennie; but I know it is from a sense of right that you speak."
"Mr. Lawson, I appeal to your manhood to help me. I want to save
Marguerite, and you alone can do it."
The girl's manner was vehement. Tears glistened in her eyes, and the pathetic nature of the appeal visibly affected Phillip Lawson.
He stood for a moment as if in a study. Had the girl in any way found out the plot? Could it be possible? What did she mean that he alone could save her?
"Mr. Lawson, I can be a friend when charity demands one; trust me; perhaps I am too bold—but it is my regard for both that forces me. Mr. Lawson, you love Marguerite Verne. It is in your power to make her happy, and oh!" cried the girl, seizing the hard, strong hand, "Mr. Lawson, promise me that you will do it."
The young lawyer held the girl's hand tenderly, yea, as that of a dear sister, then raised it to his lips—
"God bless you, Jennie," cried he, fervently, "I only wish it was in my power to do so; but Marguerite Verne is as far above me as the heavens above the earth."
"Believe me, Mr. Lawson, you are the only one towards whom my cousin gives a thought."