"Miss Rushford was not in the plot," continued Cranford, earnestly. "I
hope you will believe me. That it should have come so near wrecking my
own life was bad enough; that it should wreck another's--an innocent
person's--that would be frightful! She warned me explicitly that she
would no longer be a party to the deception, that she was going to tell
you--I thought she had told you. I remember well how warmly she spoke of
your cause; how she detested the course I was pursuing--how she made me
ashamed of myself--ashamed to look at her. I suppose some mistaken
notion of honour held her back from telling, since it was in her service
and her sister's that I had disclosed myself--"
"A message for His Lordship," said Pelletan from the door.
Cranford took it.
"You will pardon me," he said. "It is marked urgent," and he tore it
open. His face brightened as he read it. "Monsieur le Prince," he said,
warmly, turning to Markeld, "I congratulate you from the bottom of my
heart!" and he handed him the message.
Markeld took the paper and glanced at it, then, with beaming eyes, held
out his hand. And the duchess, looking on, grew suddenly young again!
"What is it?" she demanded. "Don't you see we are all waiting?"
"'Prince George, of Schloshold, has just died of an apoplexy,'" the
Prince read.
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