The Governor's frame thrilled at her touch.
"I would not say this, Governor Beekman," she resumed, still holding his glance, "if I were not desperate, but if there is anything I can do for you, if there's anything in my power to give, I'll do it if you will set this man free."
The Governor felt the warmth of her hand through his sleeve, yet there was nothing of the temptress in her touch, but rather she had become a desperate woman, the apotheosis of self-sacrifice, a Monna Vanna, stopping at nothing to gain her virtuous object.
"I don't know you," she went on softly, with downcast eyes, "but if there's anything about me—do with me——"
Suddenly she stopped. The door had opened, and a girl stood framed in the doorway. But although the Governor paled perceptibly, he did not move. After a moment the woman removed her hand from his arm, quietly rose and stood facing the girl who had entered.
"Governor Beekman," she said, now turning to him, her face still appealing in its pathos, her arms half stretched toward him, "I'm coming here every day, whether you will see me or not. I'm coming until you consent to see this man Ilingsworth and hear from him the truth. You must see him, you must hear his story from his lips," she concluded, holding out her hand.
"I will say to you precisely what I told Mr. Higgins," he replied, taking her hand and bowing gravely over it. "I shall consider this matter fully and faithfully, and shall give Giles Ilingsworth the benefit of every reasonable doubt."
When the woman had finally gone, Leslie came forward laughing, but with just enough nervousness showing in her laugh to startle Beekman, and remarked:
"Take care, take care, Eliot, some of them will get you if you don't watch out!"