"Are you going round to see Angela this morning?" he asked.
"Yes, I always go. She is much better--she sits up a little every
day now."
"She says nothing of her assassin?"
"Nothing. But I know him!"
"We all know him!" said Aubrey sternly--"But she will never speak--
she will never let the world know!"
"Ah, but the world will soon guess!" said Sylvie--"For everyone is
beginning to ask where her fiance is--why he has shown no anxiety--
why he has not been to see her--and a thousand other questions."
"That does not matter! While she is silent, no one dare accuse him.
What a marvellous spirit of patience and forgiveness she has!"
"Angela is like her name--an angel!" declared Sylvie impulsively,
the tears springing to her eyes--"I could almost worship her, when I
see her there in her sickroom, looking so white and frail and sad,--
quiet and patient--thanking us all for every little service done--
and never once mentioning the name of Florian--the man she loved so
passionately. Sometimes the dear old Cardinal sits beside her and
talks--sometimes her father,--Manuel is nearly always with her, and
she is quite easy and content, one would almost say happy when he is
there, he is so very gentle with her.
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