"Tis a freak of Boney's—not like to last. The whole civilised world will cry out upon him. Not that he greatly troubles his pate with what folks may say," added the Admiral, reflecting that the civilised world had been for many years crying out upon Napoleon, with no particular result. "Still, there are limits to everything. Yes, yes, I will come in with you."
Jack led the way, and they found a forlorn trio within. Mrs. Fairbank knitted fast, with frequent droppings of stitches; and Polly, white and dismayed, had an arm round Molly, whom she was trying to comfort, while much needing comfort herself. Two days before, a letter had come from Colonel Baron, with a cheerful report of Roy, and Molly's happiness was sadly dashed by this new complication.
Jack was speedily by their side, doing his best to console them both. Molly, as earlier stated, was small and childish for her twelve years, and Jack was next-door to being her brother; so she cried quietly, leaning her face against his scarlet coat, while he whispered hopeful foretellings.
"This is truly a doleful state of things, ma'am," the Admiral observed, turning his attention, as in duty bound, towards the elder lady. "Who could have thought such wickedness possible? 'Tis prodigiously sad. I vow there was never such a being as this First Consul since first the world was created. But cheer up, ma'am. Never you mind about him, nor pretty Polly neither. Things will all come right in time—maybe sooner, maybe later—there's no sort of doubt."
"But are they indeed all prisoners, sir?" asked Polly.
"Nay, nay, not so bad as that! The First Consul may be but little removed from a fiend; yet even he does not war with women and with schoolboys. Mrs. Baron is free to return when she will, and to bring Roy with her. 'All the English from the ages of eighteen to sixty,' and any such as are in His Majesty's Service—those are the terms of the arrest. Roy being under eighteen, and not yet having a commission, is not included. 'Tis only Colonel Baron and Captain Ivor who are to be accounted prisoners of war. An atrocious deed, with harmless and innocent travellers."
That "only" sounded hard to Polly, though it was meant in all kindness. The Admiral was doing his best to bring a ray of sunshine into a cloudy prospect.
Before any one could reply, the door opened, and in sailed Mrs. Bryce, followed by her husband. They had found their way to Bath, avowedly to drink the waters; and Mrs. Bryce was looking her gayest, as befitted a fashionable visitor to fashionable Bath.
When once Mrs. Bryce was upon the scene, other people had no chance of saying much.
"So this is the outcome of it all!" she exclaimed, with uplifted hands. "A fortnight in Paris—more like to be a matter of years. Nap has 'em in safe keeping, and depend on 't, he'll not let them go in no sort of haste. I protest, when Colonel Baron told me of his purpose, I had an inkling in my mind of what should come to pass. Did I not warn him? Did I not tell him he should be content to stop at home? 'Tis now even as I foretold. If the mice will foolishly run into the trap, with their eyes open, what may be expected but that in the trap they must stay? My dear Mrs. Fairbank, I do most sincerely condole with you all."