"Not at all," replied the Priest, somewhat sternly. "That fact could not be concealed. The very papers showed it, and the attempt to keep it back naturally produced suspicion and inquiry. If others had played their part as well as I did, and had watched carefully to prevent all communication between your brother Michael and his nephew, till De Montigni had signed, no harm would have arisen; but my advice was ill followed; they were suffered to meet in private--how, and when, I know not; but five minutes was sufficient to do all the mischief. And now it is necessary that I should know what you are about to do--what are your hopes of retrieving this affair--and what scheme is to be followed for the future."
"What would you advise yourself, father?" inquired the lady, willing to test his sincerity.
"Methinks," answered the Priest, "there is but one course to be taken. Lose not a moment longer in vain deliberation, surprise, and recrimination, but raise all the men of Liancourt, and send them out to overtake this runaway ward. A thousand things may occur to stop her. Dispatch messengers to Mayenne, Nemours, Aumale, with information of the circumstances. Tell them to cut her off from the King's camp and send her back. Once here, we will find means to deal with her. This is your only chance; but a clue to her course may be gained by the road which the old Commander follows. Be you sure that he is going to join them; and it is even not improbable, that they are waiting for him, at no great distance."
"Give me your hand, father Walter," cried the Marchioness. "All that you propose is already ordered; and, if we succeed by your assistance, not only Chizay, but another abbey, richer still, shall show our gratitude--"
The priest waved his hand, and she added, with a smile, "to enable you to promote the true interests of the Roman Catholic religion."
Father Walter was about to reply; but at that moment one of the Marchioness's women entered the room, saying, "Madam, here are Theodore and one of the men you sent back to Chazeul, who wish to speak with you directly."
Her mistress made her a sign to be silent, and father Walter, observing her gesture, took his leave and retired.
CHAPTER XVI.
The night was as black as Acheron. The rain poured down in torrents. The melting of the snow rendered the roads in the lower parts one mass of mud and water, while the higher ground, where the temperature was colder, afforded nothing but a slippery and uncertain footing for the horses, over which they had the greatest difficulty in making their way. There was no possibility of seeing more than four or five yards in advance; the wind blew the falling deluge in the eyes of the whole party; and the heart of Louis de Montigni sank, when he thought of all that Rose d'Albret was exposed to for his sake. He strove to cheer her, however, as she rode beside him; he guided and supported her horse in all the more difficult parts of the way; and often he expressed his fears and apprehensions regarding her, almost regretting that any inducement had led him to bring her forth in such a night as that.
Rose spoke little in return, for her heart was too full of manifold sensations, her mind too busy with thought for many words; but all that she did say was kind, and even cheerful; for she perceived clearly his deep anxiety for her, and strove to lighten the load as much as possible. She assured him that she did not mind the tempest, that she was accustomed to endure such things frequently, that her jennet was the most sure-footed beast on earth, that she doubted not the sky would soon clear; and when she saw how he reproached himself for all that she was enduring, she reassured him by expressing her joy and thankfulness at having escaped from an union, which every moment's thought rendered more odious in her eyes. Thus they rode on for nearly an hour and an half, sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly, according to the nature of the ground: the horsemen who accompanied them, keeping as close around them as possible, for even such a dark and stormy night was not without dangers of another kind, from the state of turbulent anarchy into which the country was plunged.