"Wait, Percy, before you answer him," Mr. Bowmore interposed. "He is ready enough at excusing himself. But, observe--he hasn't a word to say in justification of my daughter's readiness to run away with him.""Have you quite done?" Bervie asked, as quietly as ever."Mr. Bowmore reserved the right of all others which he most prized, the right of using his tongue. "For the present," he answered in his loftiest manner, "I have done."Bervie proceeded: "Your daughter consented to run away with me, because I took her to my father's house, and prevailed upon him to trust her with the secret of the coming arrests. She had no choice left but to let her obstinate father and her misguided lover go to prison--or to take her place with my sister and me in the traveling-carriage." He appealed once more to Percy. "My friend, you remember the day when you spared my life. Have Iremembered it, too?"
For once, there was an Englishman who was not contented to express the noblest emotions that humanity can feel by the commonplace ceremony of shaking hands. Percy's heart overflowed.
In an outburst of unutterable gratitude he threw himself on Bervie's breast. As brothers the two men embraced. As brothers they loved and trusted one another, from that day forth.
The door on the right was softly opened from within. A charming face--the dark eyes bright with happy tears, the rosy lips just opening into a smile--peeped into the room. A low sweet voice, with an under-note of trembling in it, made this modest protest, in the form of an inquiry:
"When you have quite done, Percy, with our good friend, perhaps you will have something to say to ME?"
