"
"Do you mean that she may die before I can reach her?"
"I know not," stamping his foot impatiently. "Fate holds the keys. But you
had best waste no time on questions."
His manner was one of command, and he seemed to apprehend no possibility
of hesitation on her part. Reuben ran to his pantry, and came back with a
tankard of wine, which he offered to the visitor with tremulous respect,
almost ready to kneel.
"Our best Burgundy, my lord. Your lordship must be dry after your long
ride; and if your lordship would care to sup, there is good picking on last
Monday's chine, and a capon from madam's supper scarce touched with the
carving-knife."
"Nothing, I thank you, friend. There is no time for gluttony."
Reuben, pressing the tankard upon him, he drank some wine with an automatic
air, and still stood with his eyes fixed on Angela's pallid countenance,
waiting her decision.
"Are you coming?" he asked.
"Does she want me? Has she asked for me? Oh, for God's sake, my lord, tell
me more! Is she dangerously ill? Have the doctors given her over?"
"No. But she is in a bad way. And you--you--you--are wanted. Will you come?
Ay or no?"
"Yes. It is my duty to go to her.
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