“Guy has always told me that there is a strong vein of obstinacy in the Rossett family. Perhaps,”—and here a proud light came into her eyes—“I could influence him more than anybody else in the world.”
Mary looked imploringly at her.
“And, Isobel, you will use that influence of course?”
“I will tell you something that, up to the present, I have only told my father,” replied the girl quietly. “I knew of all this some little time ago. My cousin, Maurice Farquhar, has a great friend, half Spanish, half English, who is also a journalist. He told my cousin that danger was threatening Guy. Maurice told me. You can guess what I felt. Guy is as dear to me as he is to you.”
“Of course, there is no need to tell us that,” cried Lady Mary hastily.
“My first impulse was to write to Guy, tell him what I had heard, and implore him to leave this dangerous country. I consulted my father. I did not write that letter. Many a night I have lain awake, and in the morning resolved to write it. It is still unwritten.”
The Earl’s face bore a puzzled expression. Lady Mary seemed somewhat bewildered too. General Clandon alone displayed no emotion.
“I don’t understand,” breathed Mary softly.
“Oh, can’t you see?” cried Isobel quickly. “Suppose Guy yielded to my prayers, and seized some excuse to come back! Might he not in after years reproach me for having induced him to play a coward’s part? Surely you can understand what I feel.”
And, in one swift moment of comprehension, the worldly and opportunist Earl and his far nobler daughter understood.