” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. “You needn’t be anxious about that! I shall contrive to live. “You see, it comes after all,” she continued, “from certain original convictions which have become my religion. Perhaps I am still mad. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. Little woman, you have been brave enough before. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. ‘A man who is false, who steals papers, who has a plot to take another’s name, who lies to the Mother Abbess and to me, and above all this—’ her voice near to breaking ‘—one who is French. “Well,” said Capes, at length, “we’ve to go down, Ann Veronica. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. She snatched about in her mind. Anyone else who finds out must be killed, otherwise, you insure death or worse for us. ” The official had no more to say. But no; she must step warily.
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