Margaret did not move at first; then she looked up and said, ‘What was it that they said, Linette?’
‘Oh! no matter what they said, Madame; they were ignorant creatures, who knew not what they were talking about. Come, you are wet, you are exhausted. This good lady will know how to help you.’
‘There is no help in man,’ said Margaret, wildly stretching out her arms. ‘Oh, God! help me—a desolate woman—and my sisters! Betrayed! betrayed!’
Very much alarmed, Linette at last succeeded in raising her to her feet, and guiding her, half-blinded as she seemed, to the portal of the Hotel de Terreforte—an archway leading into a courtyard. It was by great good fortune that the very first person who stood within it was old Andrew of the Cleugh, who despised all French sports in comparison with the completeness of his master’s equipment, and was standing at the gate, about to issue forth in quest of leather to mend a defective strap. His eyes fell on the forlorn wanderer, who had no longer energy to keep her hood forward. ‘My certie! he exclaimed, in utter amaze.
The Scottish words and voice seemed to revive Margaret, and she tottered forward, exclaiming, ‘Oh! good man, help me! take me to the Lady.’
Fortunately the Lady of Glenuskie, being much busied in preparations for her journey, had sent Annis to the sports with the Lady of Terreforte, and was ready to receive the poor, drenched, exhausted being, who almost stumbled into her motherly arms, weeping bitterly, and incoherently moaning something about her sisters, and her husband, and ‘betrayed.’
Old Christie was happily also at home, and dry clothing, a warm posset, and the Lady’s own bed, perhaps still more her soothing caresses, brought Margaret back to the power of explaining her distress intelligibly—at least as regarded her sisters. She had discovered that their escort had been that bitter foe of their house, Robert Hall, and she verily believed that he had betrayed her sisters into the hands of some of the routiers who infested the roads.
Dame Lilias could not but think it only too likely; but she said ‘the worst that could well befall the poor lassies in that case would be their detention until a ransom was paid, and if their situation was known, the King, the Dauphin, and the Duke of Brittany would be certain one or other to rescue them by force of arms, if not to raise the money.’ She saw how Margaret shuddered at the name of the Dauphin.
‘Oh! I have jewels—pearls—gold,’ cried Margaret. ‘I could pay the sum without asking any one! Only, where are they, where are they? What are they not enduring—the dear maidens! Would that I had never let them out of my sight!’
‘Would that I had not!’ echoed Dame Lilias. ‘But cheer up, dear Lady, Madame de Ste. Petronelle is with them and will watch over them; and she knows the ways of the country, and how to deal with these robbers, whoever they may be. She will have a care of them.’