Now he had kept his word--he had sent her back St. Just's compromising letter. . .for he was on the track of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Marguerite's senses reeled, her very soul seemed to be leaving her body; she tottered, and would have fallen but for Suzanne's arm round her waist. With superhuman effort she regained control over herself--there was yet much to be done.
"Bring that runner here to me," she said to the servant, with much calm. "He has not gone?""No, my lady."
The groom went, and Marguerite turned to Suzanne.
"And you, child, run within. Tell Lucile to get ready. Ifear that I must send you home, child. And--stay, tell one of the maids to prepare a travelling dress and cloak for me."Suzanne made no reply. She kissed Marguerite tenderly and obeyed without a word; the child was overawed by the terrible, nameless misery in her friend's face.
A minute later the groom returned, followed by the runner who had brought the letter.
"Who gave you this packet?" asked Marguerite.
