Her terror was so great that Vincent could not indeed leave her. As the tramp of a company of horsemen became almost lost on quitting the hard road for the deep sand, he dropped his voice, whispering in her ear that she was quite safe, completely hidden under the mangroves, and that he would not leave her. She clasped his hand with both hers, to compel him to keep his word, and implored him not to speak—not to shake a leaf of their covert.
The company passed very near; so near as that the sand thrown up by the horses’ feet pattered among the foliage of the mangroves. No one of the strangers was then speaking; but in another moment the sentry challenged them. They laughed, and were certainly stopping at the little gate.
“We know your master, fellow,” said one. “We have had more talk with him in one day than you in all your service.”
“I am sure I ought to know that voice,” whispered Aimée, drawing a long breath.
The strangers were certainly intending to pass through the gate into the grounds; and the sentry was remonstrating. In another moment he fired, as a signal. There was some clamour and laughter, and Aimée started, as at a voice from the grave.
“That is Isaac’s voice!” she exclaimed, springing from her seat. It was now Vincent’s turn to hold her hands, or she would have been out in the broad moonlight in an instant.
“Stay, love! Stay one moment,” he entreated. “I believe you are right; but let me look out.”
She sank down on the sand, while he reconnoitred. At the moment of his looking forth, a young man who, he was certain, was Placide, was good-humouredly taking the sentry by the shoulders, and pushing him from his place, while saying something in his ear, which made the poor soldier toss his hat in the air, and run forward to meet his comrades, whom the sound of his gun was bringing from every direction, over the sands.
“It is they, indeed,” said Vincent. “Your brothers are both there.”
While he was speaking, Aimée burst from the covert, made her way miraculously through the gathering horses and men, pushed through the gate, leaving her lover some way behind, flew like a lapwing through the shrubbery, and across the lawn, was hanging on her brother’s neck before the news of the arrival was understood within the house.