Then Adèle's eyes caught Harry's, and they both smiled as at some secret known to them alone.
Time passed away, and at length, when the winter was gone, and the gray Dutch sky was rifted with the blue of spring, came the welcome news that Marlborough had arrived at the Hague and that a great campaign was to open. No one knew what the duke's plans were, but there was a general feeling that stirring events were preparing, and a universal hope that the long series of small engagements, sieges, marches and counter-marches would be brought to an end by a decisive pitched battle. Mynheer Grootz was working night and day at commissariat business, and for weeks there was a continual bustle of preparation: the cleaning of arms, the testing of harness, a thousand-and-one details that employed countless people beside the soldiers.
At length a day came when, all preparations completed, the eager troops were ready to march out. Harry and Fanshawe, accompanied by Sherebiah, rode over to Lindendaal one evening to take farewell of the ladies. Fanshawe was in the dolefullest of dumps. Notwithstanding Adèle's refusal of him, he had still nursed a hope that time might prove on his side, but found every hint of a sentimental nature adroitly parried, and now feared that with his absence his last chance would disappear. His spirits were raised a little by the warmth, and indeed effusiveness, with which she bade him good-bye.
"I shall hope to hear great things of you, Monsieur," she said, "and to learn that you have come through the campaign unscathed."
"Your good wishes shall be my talisman, Mademoiselle," said Fanshawe gallantly, bowing over her hand.
Harry meanwhile had taken leave of Madame de Vaudrey, who held both his hands and spoke to him with a quite motherly tenderness. Then he turned to say good-bye to Adèle. She had disappeared. Fanshawe had already gone out to the front of the house to see that his horse's girth was rightly strapped, and Harry followed, thinking that Mademoiselle had perhaps accompanied him to the door. But as he passed through the hall, he saw through the open door of the dining-room that Adèle was there, standing at the window with her back to him.
"There you are, Mademoiselle," he said, entering the room; "I was looking for you. It is a longer good-bye this time."
She turned round slowly, and her back being to the sunset glow he could scarcely see her features. She held out her hand, and said slowly, with perhaps a little less cordiality than he had unconsciously expected:
"Adieu, Monsieur Harry!"
He took her hand, hesitated for a moment, and then was gone.