ou wish me to
do. There are nineteen of us ready to lay down our lives for the Scarlet
Pimpernel if he is in danger."

"There is no need for lives just now, my friend," she said drily; "my
wits and four swift horses will serve the necessary purpose. But I must
know where to find him. See," she added, while her eyes filled with
tears, "I have humbled myself before you, I have owned my fault to you;
shall I also confess my weakness?--My husband and I have been estranged,
because he did not trust me, and because I was too blind to understand.
You must confess that the bandage which he put over my eyes was a very
thick one. Is it small wonder that I did not see through it? But last
night, after I led him unwittingly into such deadly peril, it suddenly
fell from my eyes. If you will not help me, Sir Andrew, I would still
strive to save my husband. I would still exert every faculty I possess
for his sake; but I might be powerless, for I might arrive too late,
and nothing would be left for you but lifelong remorse, and . . . and
. . . for me, a broken heart."

"But, Lady Blakeney," said the young man, touched by the gentle
earnestness of this exquisitely beautiful woman, "do you know that what
you propose doing is man's work?--you cannot possibly journey to Calais
alone. You would be running the greatest possible risks to yourself, and
your chances of finding your husband now--where I to direct you ever so
carefully--are infinitely remote.

"Oh, I hope there are risks!" she murmured softly, "I hope there are
dangers, too!--I have so much to atone for. But I fear you are mistaken.
Chauvelin's eyes are fixed upon you all, he will scarce notice me.
Quick, Sir Andrew!--the coach is ready, and there is not a moment to be
lost. . . . I MUST get to him! I MUST!" she repeated with almost savage
energy, "to warn him that that man is on his track. . . . Can't you
see--can't you see, that I MUST get to him . . . even . . . even if it be
too late to save him . . . at least . . . to be by his side . . . at the
least."

"Faith, Madame, you must command me. Gladly would I or any of my
comrades lay down our lives for your husband. If you WILL go
yourself. . . ."

"Nay, friend, do you not see that I would go mad if I let you go without
me." She stretched out her hand to him. "You WILL trust me?"

"I await your orders," he said simply.

"Listen, then. My coach is ready to take me to Dover. Do you follow
me, as swiftly as horses will ta