The sweetness of her expression, the tender caress of those soft, tapering hands, the deep mysterious look in those magnificent eyes, and the incomparable grace of all her movements, combined to render her the most perfect woman I had ever met--perfect in all, alas! save speech and hearing, of which, with such dastard wantonness, she had been deprived.
She touched her red lips with the tip of her forefinger, opened her hands, and shrugged her shoulders with a sad gesture of regret.

Then turning quickly to some paper on the little table at her side she wrote something with a gold pencil and handed to me.

It read-- "Surely Providence has sent you here! Mr.Woodroffe must have followed you from England.

He is my enemy.

You must take me from here and hide me.