Our hero followed Jean Plessis through two or three dismal corridors and chambers, till, opening a door, he ushered him into a room partly furnished. There were two windows to the apartment, but only the top part of the shutters was kept open. As he entered the chamber—a little bashful, perhaps, for he was but seventeen, and but little accustomed to female society—he perceived a lady in deep mourning rise from a chair and advance to meet him; but he was more surprised when, instead of a fair young girl, as he expected to see, he observed a slight, fragile boy, with a pale and very thin face, but with eyes dark, large, and lustrous. He appeared about twelve years of age, and stood leaning against the high-backed chair of his mother.
The Duchess slightly started as she gazed up into the handsome, expressive features of the midshipman. For a moment she appeared to be reflecting, as if some past transaction was recalled by his presence.
“Ah!” said the lady, in French, speaking in a low voice, “he is young, very young;” but then, looking up, with a sweet smile on her pale but very beautiful features, she said, in English:—
“Pardon me, young gentleman, instead of wondering at your youth, I ought to have expressed my gratitude at seeing one so young willing to incur so much risk in his desire to befriend a perfect stranger.”
“But nevertheless, madame,” said the young sailor, “a countrywoman. Lieutenant Cooke, my superior officer, would most willingly have come in my place, but that he was forced to attend a most important meeting with the Royalist committee. He, however, bade me say that any assistance he can offer you, will be a pleasure, and that perhaps you, madame, would be able to point out to me how that assistance can be rendered.”
The Duchesse de Coulancourt seemed to reflect for a few moments, during which time our young midshipman had an opportunity of regarding her features and person, and also that of the young boy, looking so earnest and pensive beside her. The Duchess was tall, graceful in figure, and, though exceedingly pale and thin, her features were beautifully formed. Like the boy, her eyes were black, large, and expressive; with luxuriant black hair; and in years, as well as he could judge, not more than five or six-and-thirty. The boy was of a slight figure, dressed in the tunic and vest then worn by boys of his age; he had the same fine features as the mother, but his excessive thinness and pallor gave him a consumptive appearance, which was only relieved by the singularly expressive look about the eyes, and the beautifully marked eyebrows.
“I have been thinking all the morning,” said the Duchess, rousing herself from her thoughts, “how to act in the painful and trying situation in which I am placed; for no human power could save me were I recognised, or known to be living in this town. Not even to the Royalist party would I venture to show myself, unless, indeed, the British Admiral ultimately gains possession of the town. My chief desire is to secure the safety of my beloved daughter. Come hither, Mabel. I have disguised her, as you see, like a boy. Poor child! she is so attenuated by fretting, confinement, and various other privations, that she appears a mere shadow.”
Madame Coulancourt turned, and took her disguised daughter by the hand, the child’s pale face slightly flushed as she saw that William Thornton’s dark eyes were fixed upon her, with an expression of deep interest and surprise. The midshipman thought her plain, even with her large speaking eyes.
The Duchess sighed, and the tears ran down her cheeks as she kissed her daughter’s forehead, and then taking her hand, she said:—
“Mabel, this young gentleman will be a brother to you. Pray what is your name?” she added, as our hero took the little hand in his, and stooped and kissed her forehead, with the dark hair cut close all round, like a boy’s. “I know not how it is, but I feel a strange spirit of prophecy creeping over me, that tells me you will serve this poor child, who is, as it were, alone in the world. You have a strong likeness, young sir, to some one I dearly loved; but memory is almost dead within me. You will protect my child, I know you will!”