She vacillated, like the weak creature she was, between two opinions, until it was almost too late for Jessica to arrange the matter for her; but finally, under the dread of her mother’s speedy return from Beauregard, she made up her mind to visit De Courcelles, and Jessica was despatched with a ten dollar note to make the necessary preparations.
When the afternoon sun was somewhat on the wane, and Sir Russell Johnstone, having passed a sleepless night, and believing his wife to be safe in her own apartments, had thrown himself down on a couch to obtain some rest, Maraquita, effectually disguised with veil and cloak, stole down the back staircase of Government House, in company with the negress, and sought the abode of the half-caste woman Rosita, who had been fully instructed in the part she had to play. Leaving Jessica behind them, the two women immediately set out for the Fort, where they were received by the officer commanding the prison guard. He threw one glance on the Governor’s signature, and gave them immediate admittance.
‘Friends to see the prisoner No. 14, by the Governor’s permission,’ he shouted to the warder, who, unlocking a heavy iron-clamped door, ushered the visitors into a stone passage, from which there seemed to be no possibility of egress. Maraquita’s feeble courage was fast failing her, and had it not been for the cool nerve and determination of Rosita, she would have probably betrayed herself. But the half-caste woman was quite equal to the emergency.
‘Ah, sir, tell me!’ she exclaimed, as soon as they were alone with the warder, ‘will they really kill my poor nephew? Is there no chance of a reprieve?’
‘Don’t think so, ma’am,’ was the official’s answer; ‘but no one can tell for certain till after the court-martial to-morrow. Your nephew, you say?’
‘Yes! and this poor girl, my daughter, was to have been married to him before long. It’s a terrible trial for her! I don’t know how she’ll stand the interview.’
‘She’d better not see him. ’Twon’t do no good,’ said the warder roughly; ‘though she’s had a lucky escape from such a rascal.’
‘But I’ve come on her account alone. She can’t rest till she’s seen her cousin. Now, Clara, my dear, you’d better go in by yourself first, and then when the time’s up, the warder will let you know.’
All this had been pre-arranged between them, but Rosita played her part much better than Maraquita had the power to do. Her large eyes glanced up almost appealingly when No. 14 was reached, and the gaoler’s keys rattled in the door, and had not her companion pushed her into the cell, she would have turned round and run away. But it was done, and her retreat was cut off. She stood in the same room as Henri de Courcelles.
‘Friends for No. 14,’ sung out the warder, as he opened the door; ‘only fifteen minutes allowed, so make the most of them.’