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In fact" heavily "your poor little sin shows white as driven snow beside hers." "You're wrong. I'm sure you're wrong," insisted Cara. "I don't know why you believe what you do nor all that you believe. I don't ask to know. It wouldn't make any difference if you told me. I know Ann. And however black things looked against her, nothing would ever make me believe she was anything but dead straight."
The realities of life were coming back to her, and by the time Cara had finished her story beginning with the sending of the telegram in Brett's name and ending with the final surrender of the notes of hand she had grasped the significance of what had happened. "And you did this risked so much for me?" she said, trembling a little. "Oh, Cara!" Cara was silent a moment. Then she leaned forward.
Who made it? Cara signora, give me the address." "Ask the Colonel, dear Madame; he chose and bought it," and Mrs. Morley glanced significantly at her well-tutored Frank.
"Not only letters," exclaimed she, "but my life I would trust to the fidelity of my vera, verissima, cara Inglesina! And now," continued Her Highness, turning round to the Queen, "will it please Your Majesty to give Inglesina your commands." "Here, then," said the Queen, "is a letter for my dear sister, the Queen of Naples, which you must deliver into her own hands.
But the journey that day was a short one, for, as the sun grew hotter and hotter, Camer, the new calf, grew more and more feeble, and once more the Arabs dismounted and rested in the desert. But as the days went on Camer gained strength, and in a week's time was as lively as Cara himself.
"Ha, I see, I see; nothing more likely! Per Dio, bambina mia, you lose no time! Brava la Bianca! And perhaps I may conclude, from one or two small observations that I have been able to make myself, you would prefer to win on the nephew! Eh, cara mia" said the old man, looking at her with a sly smile.
"Why, that old chap who lives at the lodge at Heronsmere, old chap with a face like a gargoyle Brady, what's his name?" "Bradley," supplied Cara. "Yes, that's it. Bradley. A cunning old rascal, if ever there was one he'd sell his immortal soul for the price of a drink.
"I saw no other way of getting her here, so, as you truthfully remark, I used those bits of paper as a lever." "Well" quickly. "I've come for those bits of paper, as you call them." Brett shook his head regretfully. "I never made any bargain to give them to you, even though you have condescended to honour the Sphinx with your presence to-night," he said. Cara approached the table. "No.
The Queen showed the greatest intrepidity during the whole of these trying scenes. "At present, I can say no more. Petion, the Mayor of Paris, has just been announced; and, I believe, he wishes for an audience of Her Majesty, though he never made his appearance during the whole time of the riots in the palace. Adieu, mia cara Inglesina!"
This, probably, may be a matter of no real consequence whatever; but it is our duty to avoid danger, and it has been decided that you should, at least for a time, absent Paris. "Per cio, mia cara Inglesina, speak now, freely and candidly: is it your wish to return to England, or go elsewhere?
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