Part 37 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXVIII THE CAGED LION

Was there souerite through the barrier into the prisoner's cell? Had the wan face of this beautiful woentleness that was not wholly atrophied by the constant cruelties, the excesses, therepublic constantly demanded of him?

Perhaps so and country, recollection of wife or sister or mother pleaded within him in favour of this sorely-stricken woe blue eyes

Certain it is that as soon as Marguerite passed the barrier he put hiainst it with his back to the interior of the cell and to her

Marguerite had paused on the threshold

After the glaring light of the guard-room the cell seeth of the long, narrow cubicle lay to her left, with a slight recess at its further end, so that from the threshold of the doorway she could not see into the distant corner

Swift as a lightning flash the re her life to that dark corner where the insolent eyes of the rabble soldiery could not spy her every uerite stepped further into the rooht of an oil lauish various objects: one or two chairs, another table, and a s camp bedstead

Just for a few seconds she only saw these inanis, then she became conscious of Percy's presence

He sat on a chair, with his left arm half-stretched out upon the table, his head hidden in the bend of the elbow

Marguerite did not utter a cry; she did not even tremble Just for one brief instant she closed her eyes, so as to gather up all her courage before she dared to look again Then with a steady and noiseless step she castones at his feet and raised reverently to her lips the hand that hung nerveless and liave a start; a shi+ver seeh him; he half raised his head and murmured in a hoarse whisper:

”I tell you that I do not know, and if I did--”

She put her arms round him and pillowed her head upon his breast He turned his head slowly toward her, and now his eyes--hollowed and riht into hers

”My beloved,” he said, ”I knew that you would co of lifelessness or of weariness in the passion of that eain it seemed to her as if that first vision which she had had of hiard face was not reality, only a dream born of her own anxiety for him, for now the hot, ardent blood coursed just as swiftly as ever through his veins, as if life--strong, tenacious, pulsating life--throbbed with unabated vigour in those h the body, but half subdued, had transferred its vanishi+ng strength to the kind and noble heart that was beating with the fervour of self-sacrifice

”Percy,” she said gently, ”they will only give us a few ht that my tears would break your spirit where their devilry had failed”

He held her glance with his oith that close, intent look which binds soul to soul, and in his deep blue eyes there danced the restless fla htness, even whilst his voice quivered with the intensity of passion engendered by her presence, her nearness, the perfume of her hair, ”how little they know you, eh?

Your brave, beautiful, exquisite soul, shi+ning now through your glorious eyes, would defy the machinations of Satan hio er”

He held her face between his two hands, and indeed it see into her eyes In the midst of so uerite felt quite so happy, never had she felt him so completely her own The inevitable bodily weakness, which of necessity had invaded even his splendid physique after a whole week's privations, had made a severe breach in the invincible barrier of self-control hich the soul of the inner man was kept perpetually hidden behind a mask of indifference and of irresponsibility

And yet the agony of seeing the lines of sorrow so plainly writ on the beautiful face of the woman he worshi+pped must have been the keenest that the bold adventurer had ever experienced in the whole course of his reckless life It was he--and he alone--as ladly have shed every drop of his blood, endured every torment, every misery and every huree less than he worshi+pped his honour and the cause which he had ony, in spite of the heartrending pathos of her pale wan face, and through the anguish of seeing her tears, the ruling passion--strong in death--the spirit of adventure, the mad, wild, devil-may-care irresponsibility was never wholly absent

”Dear heart,” he said with a quaint sigh, whilst he buried his face in the soft ued”

He was laughing, and the old look of boyish love of ard face

”Is it not lucky, dear heart,” he said a moment or two later, ”that those brutes do not leave rowth of beard round my chin By dint of promises and bribery I have persuaded one of that rabble to co