"Hortense, I may find a task for you which will prove your devotion," he begins with reluctance.
"What is it, Philip?" she falters.
He resumes. "I do not know how far I may be pushed by trouble. I shall have to struggle and fight to hold my own. I am safe for a time, but I may be pushed to the wall. Will you, for the sake of our own child, do as I bid you with that Spanish brat?"
At last she sees his gloomy meaning. Is it murder? An orphan child!
"Philip," she sobs, "be careful! For MY SAKE, for YOUR OWN." She is chilled by his cold designs.
"Only at the last. Just as I direct, I may wish you to control the disappearance of that young one, who stands between me and our marriage."
She seizes his hands: "Swear to me that you will never deceive me."
"I do," he answers huskily.
"On the cross," she sternly says, flashing before his startled eyes a jewelled crucifix. "I will obey you—I swear it on this—as long as you are true." She presses her ashy lips on the cross.
He kisses it. The promise is sealed.