She uttered a faint gasping cry scarcely audible, Charles’s impulse was to exclaim, “Man or spirit, stand!” and drawing his sword to rush across the street; but in that second all had vanished, and he only struck against closed doors, which he shook, but could not open.
“Mr. Archfield! Oh, come back! I have seen it before,” entreated Anne; and he strode back, with a gesture of offering her support, and trembling, she clung to his arm. “It does not hurt,” she said. “It comes and goes—”
“You have seen it before!”
“Twice.”
No more could be said, for through the gloom the white plume and gold-laced uniform of the marquis were seen. He had missed them, and come back to look for them, beginning to apologise.
“I am confounded at having left Mademoiselle behind.—Comment!”—as the sound betrayed that Charles was sheathing his sword. “I trust that Monsieur has met with no unpleasant adventure from my people.”
“Oh, no, Monsieur,” was the answer, as he added—
“One can never be sure as to these fiery spirits towards an Englishman in the present state of feeling, and I blame myself extremely for having permitted myself to lose sight of Monsieur and Mademoiselle.”
“Indeed, sir, we have met with no cause of complaint,” said Charles, adding as if casually, “What is that church?”
“’Tis the Jesuits’ Church,” replied the governor. “There is the best preaching in the town, they say, and Jansenists as we are, I was struck with the Lenten course.”