"Stop!" cried Barnabas.
Uttering a frightened oath, the postilion pulled up with a jerk, but
as the chaise came to a standstill a window rattled down. Then
Barnabas lowered the pistol, and coming up beside the chaise looked
down into the troubled face of my Lady Cleone. And her checks were
very pale in the light of the lanterns, and upon her dark lashes was
the glitter of tears.
CHAPTER LXXI
WHICH TELLS HOW BARNABAS, IN HIS FOLLY, CHOSE THE HARDER COURSE
"You! Is it you--Barnabas?" she whispered and thereafter sighed, a
long, quivering sigh. "I--I've been hoping you would come!"
And now, as he looked at her, he saw that her cheeks were suffused,
all at once, with a warm and vivid color. "Hoped?" said Barnabas,
wondering.
"And--prayed!" she whispered.
"Then, you expected me? You knew I should come?"
"Yes, Barnabas. I--I hoped you would see my--letter to Ronald--that
was why I wrote it! And I prayed that you might come--"
"Why?"
"Because I--oh, Barnabas, I'm afraid!"
"You were going to--Chichester?"
"Yes, Barnabas."
"You don't--love him, do you?"
"Love him!" she repeated, "Oh, God!"
And Barnabas saw her shudder violently.
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