“I am coming; and all who love me, follow me.”
How the words rang in my ears,—“Tous ceux qui m'aiment!” I heard them in every rustling of the wind and motion of the leaves against the window; they were whispered to my sense by every avenue of my brain; and I sat no longer occupied in reading as usual, but with folded arms, repeating word by word the brief sentence.
It was midnight. All was still and silent through the house; no servant stirred, and the very wind was hushed to a perfect calm. I was sitting in my library, when the words I have repeated seemed spoken in a low, clear voice beside me. I started up: the perspiration broke over my forehead and fell upon my cheek with terror; for I knew I was alone, and the fearful thought flashed on me,—this may be madness! For a second or two the agony of the idea was almost insupportable. Then came a resolve as sudden. I opened my desk, and took from it all the ready money I possessed; I wrote a few hurried lines to my agent; and then, making my way noiselessly to the stable, I saddled my horse and led him out.
In two hours I was nearly twenty miles on my way to Dublin. Day was breaking as I entered the capital. I made no delay there; but taking fresh horses, started for Skerries, where I knew the fishermen of the coast resorted.
“One hundred pounds to the man who will land me on the coast of France or Holland,” said I to a group that were preparing their nets on the shore.
A look of incredulity was the only reply. A very few words, however, settled the bargain. Ere half an hour I was on board. The wind freshened, and we stood out to sea.
“Let the breeze keep to this,” said the skipper, “and we'll make the voyage quickly.”
Both wind and tide were in our favor. We held down Channel rapidly; and I saw the blue hills grow fainter and fainter, till the eye could but detect a gray cloud on the horizon, which at last disappeared in the bright sun of noon, and a wide waste of blue water lay on every side.