The minutes dragged on; the Seraph was in an agony of probation and
impatience. Once the attendants entered to light the chandeliers and
candelabra; the full light fell on the dark, slight form of the Hebrew,
and on the superb attitude and the fair, frank, proud face of the
standing Guardsman; neither moved--once more they were left alone.
The moments ticked slowly away one by one, audible in the silence. Now
and then the quarter chimed from the clock; it was the only sound in the
chamber.
CHAPTER XI.
FOR A WOMAN'S SAKE.
The door opened--Cecil entered.
The Seraph crossed the room, with his hand held out; not for his life
in that moment would he have omitted that gesture of friendship.
Involuntarily he started and stood still one instant in amaze; the next,
he flung thought away and dashed into swift, inconsequent words.
"Cecil, my dear fellow! I'm ashamed to send for you on such a blackguard
errand. Never heard of such a swindler's trick in all my life; couldn't
pitch the fellow into the street because of the look of the thing, and
can't take any other measure without you, you know. I only sent for you
to expose the whole abominable business, never because I believe----Hang
it! Beauty, I can't bring myself to say it even! If a sound thrashing
would have settled the matter, I wouldn't have bothered you about it,
nor told you a syllable. Only you are sure, Bertie, aren't you, that
I never listened to this miserable outrage on us both with a second's
thought there could be truth in it? You know me? you trust me too well
not to be certain of that?"
The incoherent address poured out from his lips in a breathless torrent;
he had never been so excited in his life; and he pleaded with as
imploring an earnestness as though he had been the suspected criminal,
not to be accused with having one shadow of shameful doubt against his
friend.
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