So the Bryces and Polly went, and Molly was left behind with old Mrs. Fairbank. Nobody saw aught to object to in the arrangement; and Molly said nothing. But in later years she often looked back with a shudder to those autumn weeks.
She had none with her by whom she was understood, or to whom she could freely talk. She was cut off from her father, from her mother, from her twin, from Polly and from Jack. News from the prisoners arrived very seldom, and plenty of room was left for Molly's childish imagination to bring her misery.
Those were days of far severer imprisonment than these are; dungeons and chains being in constant use. Molly had heard enough, even in her short life, of fettered and half-starved captives, to cause her to be haunted by doleful visions as to the durance vile which Roy might have to endure.
In the daytime, when she was fully occupied, it was easier to take a cheerful view of life; but Molly's sufferings began with nightfall. Often she would start out of a restless sleep, fancying that she saw Roy in some noisome dungeon, with chains upon his wrists, while his grey eyes appealed to her pitifully for help. She would hide her face and sob; and in the midst of her woe would come the sound of the old watchman, shaking his rattle as he passed down the street, and singing out monotonously, "Past one o'clock, and a starlight night;" or, it might be, "Past three o'clock, and a rainy morning!"
Molly would listen, shivering, to the prolonged utterance; and sometimes she would wonder if the old watchman ever went to sleep. Then, as the voice died away, she would drop off herself; and when again she woke, she would be hugging her pillow, under a vague impression that she had Roy in her arms.
But of these troubled nights Molly said not a word to any human being. The only person whom she could have told was Polly, and Polly had gone away.
[CHAPTER X]
THE FRENCH FLEET SIGNALLED
MRS. BRYCE could seldom be happy for long in one place. Before the end of September she had decided to quit Folkestone for Sandgate. Polly was charmed, and Mr. Bryce made no serious objection.
"If Buonaparte should come, my dear, what then?" was all that he ventured to suggest; and Mrs. Bryce snapped her fingers at the First Consul.