Turning to the girl he said in a low tone, "There must be some
mistake. I have never met Mademoiselle Archimbault. I will go in and
explain the purpose of my visit." And before Hortense could prevent him,
Quincy had entered the boudoir and closed the door behind him.
In the centre of the room stood a beautifully carved and inlaid table.
Before it sat an elegantly-dressed woman, whose hair, artistically
arranged, was of the darkest shade of brown--almost black. Her arms were
crossed upon the table, her face was buried in them, and from her came a
succession of convulsive sobs, that indicated she was in great physical
or mental distress.
Quincy felt that she knew he was there, but he did not speak.
Finally she said, and there was a tone of deep suffering in her voice:
"Oh! Algernon, why have you followed me? I can never, never marry you.
If it had been possible I would have met you that evening, as I
promised."
The thought flashed across Quincy's mind, "This is the girl that ran
away from Lord Hastings. But why did she call me Algernon?" Then he
spoke for the first time.
Pages:
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677