“Yes. God knows the truth, we have found a friend, noble lady,—one only!”
“One only!” said the great lady, hastily. “His name, I implore. You do not know how important it is; it is for your father’s safety. Who is this friend?”
“I do not know,” said Ethel.
The stranger turned pale.
“Is it because I wish to serve you that you trifle with me? Consider that your father’s life is at stake. Tell me, who is this friend of whom you speak?”
“Heaven knows, noble lady, that I know nothing of him but his name, which is Ordener.”
Ethel uttered these words with that difficulty which we all feel in pronouncing before an indifferent person the sacred name which wakes within us every emotion of love.
“Ordener! Ordener!” repeated the stranger, with singular agitation, while her hands crumpled the white embroideries of her veil. “And what is his father’s name?” she asked in a troubled voice.
“I do not know,” replied the girl. “What are his family and his father to me? This Ordener, noble lady, is the most generous of men.”
Alas! the accent with which these words were spoken revealed Ethel’s secret to the sharp-sighted stranger.