"
Agatha had closed her book, and was rising to execute her father's
wishes, when Momont, the grey-haired butler, hurrying round from the
kitchen-door as fast his old legs would carry him, screamed out: "The
blues! the blues!"
Agatha, who was in the act of entering the house as she heard the
fearful cry, turned instantly back to her father's side. She was deadly
pale, but she spoke not a word. She grasped her father's hand, and fixed
herself close to his chair, determined in that position to await the
worst that her enemies could do her.
"Run, Agatha, run," said the Marquis, "into the garden, my dear love.
The gate will be open at the back. Run, Agatha, for your life!" Agatha,
however, did not stir.
"Do you hear me, Agatha?" continued the old man, wildly supplicating her
to go from him. "Do you hear me, my daughter? If you would have my
blessing before I die, do as I bid you now. What are my grey hairs to
your young life, that you should sacrifice yourself for me?"
It was of no avail, for the daughter stood fast by her disabled father's
side, grasping his right hand so that nothing should tear her from him,
and turning her beautiful face towards the house, watching for the
approach of her enemies.
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