"I'll go and see to it at once, sir," he said with alacrity, and with less frigidity in his manner."Has her ladyship everything she wants for supper?""Everything, thanks, honest friend, and as I am famished and dead with fatigue, I pray you see to the rooms.""Now tell me," she said eagerly, as soon as Jellyband had gone from the room, "tell me all your news.""There is nothing else much to tell you, Lady Blakeney,"replied the young man."The storm makes it quite impossible for any vessel to put out of Dover this tide.But, what seems to you at first a terrible calamity is really a blessing in disguise.If we cannot cross over to France to-night, Chauvelin is in the same quandary.
"He may have left before the storm broke out.""God grant he may," said Sir Andrew, merrily, "for very likely then he'll have been driven out of his course! Who knows? He may now even be lying at the bottom of the sea, for there is a furious storm raging, and it will fare ill with all small craft which happen to be out.But I fear me we cannot build our hopes upon the shipwreck of that cunning devil, and of all his murderous plans.The sailors Ispoke to, all assured me that no schooner had put out of Dover for several hours: on the other hand, I ascertained that a stranger had arrived by coach this afternoon, and had, like myself, made some inquiries about crossing over to France.
"Then Chauvelin is still in Dover?"
"Undoubtedly.Shall I go waylay him and run my sword through him?
That were indeed the quickest way out of the difficulty.""Nay! Sir Andrew, do not jest! Alas! I have often since last night caught myself wishing for that fiend's death.But what you suggest is impossible! The laws of this country do not permit of murder! It is only in our beautiful France that wholesale slaughter is done lawfully, in the name of Liberty and of brotherly love."Sir Andrew had persuaded her to sit down to the table, to partake of some supper and to drink a little wine.This enforced rest of at least twelve hours, until the next tide, was sure to be terribly difficult to bear in the state of intense excitement in which she was.Obedient in these small matters like a child, Marguerite tried to eat and drink.
Sir Andrew, with that profound sympathy born in all those who are in love, made her almost happy by talking to her about her husband.He recounted to her some of the daring escapes the brave Scarlet Pimpernel had contrived for the poor French fugitives, whom a relentless and bloody revolution was driving out of their country.He made her eyes glow with enthusiasm by telling her of his bravery, his ingenuity, his resourcefulness, when it meant snatching the lives of men, women, and even children from beneath the very edge of that murderous, ever-ready guillotine.
He even made her smile quite merrily by telling her of the Scarlet Pimpernel's quaint and many disguises, through which he had baffled the strictest watch set against him at the barricades of Paris.This last time, the escape of the Comtesse de Tournay and her children had been a veritable masterpiece--Blakeney disguised as a hideous old market-woman, in filthy cap and straggling grey locks, was a sight fit to make the gods laugh.
Marguerite laughed heartily as Sir Andrew tried to describe Blakeney's appearance, whose gravest difficulty always consisted in his great height, which in France made disguise doubly difficult.
Thus an hour wore on.There were many more to spend in enforced inactivity in Dover.Marguerite rose from the table with an impatient sigh.She looked forward with dread to the night in the bed upstairs, with terribly anxious thoughts to keep her company, and the howling of the storm to help chase sleep away.
She wondered where Percy was now.The DAY DREAM was a strong, well-built sea-going yacht.Sir Andrew had expressed the opinion that no doubt she had got in the lee of the wind before the storm broke out, or else perhaps had not ventured into the open at all, but was lying quietly at Gravesend.
Briggs was an expert skipper, and Sir Percy handled a schooner as well as any master mariner.There was no danger for them from the storm.
It was long past midnight when at last Marguerite retired to rest.As she had feared, sleep sedulously avoided her eyes.Her thoughts were of the blackest during these long, weary hours, whilst that incessant storm raged which was keeping her away from Percy.The sound of the distant breakers made her heart ache with melancholy.
She was in the mood when the sea has a saddening effect upon the nerves.It is only when we are very happy, that we can bear to gaze merrily upon the vast and limitless expanse of water, rolling on and on with such persistent, irritating monotony, to the accompaniment of our thoughts, whether grave or gay.When they are gay, the waves echo their gaiety; but when they are sad, then every breaker, as it rolls, seems to bring additional sadness, and to speak to us of hopelessness and of the pettiness of all our joys.
