“Then so do I,” cried I, as folding my arms, I sat down beside the window, determined on my course.
“Charley, Charley,” said he, stooping over me, “my friend, my last hope, the protector of my child—”
“I will not go,” said I, in a hollow whisper.
Already they were at the door; I heard their voices as they challenged the sentry; I heard his musket as he raised it to his shoulder. The thought flashed across me. I jumped up, and throwing the loose mantle of the French dragoon around him, and replacing his own with the foraging cap of St. Croix, I sprang into a corner of the room, and seating myself so as to conceal my face, waited the result. The door opened, the party entered laughing and talking together.
“Come, Eugène,” said one, taking Sir George by the arm, “you have spent long enough time here to learn the English language. We shall be late at the outpost. Messieurs les Anglais, good-night, good-night!”
This was repeated by the others as they passed out with Sir George Dashwood among them, who, seeing that my determination was not to be shaken, and that any demur on his part must necessarily compromise both, yielded to a coup-de-main what he never would have consented to from an appeal to his reason. The door closed; their steps died away in the distance. Again a faint sound struck my ear; it was the challenge of the sentry beneath, and I heard the tramp of horses’ feet. All was still, and in a burst of heart-felt gratitude I sank upon my knees, and thanked God that he was safe.
So soundly did I sleep, that not before I was shaken several times by the shoulder could I awake on the following morning.
“I thought there were two prisoners here,” said a gruff voice, as an old mustached-looking veteran cast a searching look about the room. “However, we shall have enough of them before sunset. Get—get up; Monsieur le Duc de Dalmatie desires some information you can give him.”
As he said this, he led me from the room; and descending the flight of stone steps, we entered the courtyard. It was but four o’clock, the rain, still falling in torrents, yet every one was up and stirring.
“Mount this horse,” said my gruff friend, “and come with me towards the left; the marshal has already gone forward.”