From his feverish slumber he was roused by feeling his forehead bathed with some cool and refreshing liquid, by hands soft and gentle, like those of a female; but this, too, he deemed imagination, and his eyes remained closed. But the bathing continued, and became too palpable to be mistaken. When he looked around, he found himself in an airy and elegant room, with white flowing drapery hanging gracefully from the windows, and from the roof of the French couch upon which he lay. Instinctively he raised his hand to his neck, to feel for the portrait of Alice Lisle. It hung no longer there, but was placed in his hands by the kind fairy who had taken upon herself the office of being his nurse. He turned to look upon her, but she glided away.
"I am dreaming," murmured he, and closed his eyes; but on opening them again, the same scene met his view. The room was richly carpeted, the furniture was costly and elegant, the ceiling was lofty, and covered with painted birds and angels, flying among fleecy clouds and azure skies. The pictures on the wall were large Dutch cattle-pieces and glaring prints of Oudenarde and other battles, and a most agreeable perfume was wafted through the apartment from several Delft vases filled with fresh flowers, which adorned the polished side-tables and lofty marble mantel-piece. Ronald looked from one thing to another in silent wonder,—he could not imagine whither he had been conveyed; but that which most attracted his attention was the figure of a female,—a nun he supposed her to be,—whose face was turned from him, and who seemed to be kneeling in a meek and graceful attitude of prayer, so he had an opportunity of observing her particularly.
Her costume was very simple, but, from its shape, amply displayed her very beautiful bust and whole figure. It consisted of a tight body and wide skirt of black serge, girt round her slender waist by a white fillet. She wore a hood of white silk, from beneath which one bright ringlet fell over her shoulder. There was something very bewitching and coquettish in that stray love-lock, and it gave fair promise that there was much more worth seeing under the same little hood. Her hands were very small, and very white; but they were clasped in prayer, and her face seemed to be turned upwards.
"Heavens!" thought Stuart, "I am back again in the land of guitars and pig-skins. This is witchcraft, and Waterloo is all a dream. Bah! my wound says no! Where am I?" said he aloud. "Buenos dias, gentil señora," he added in his most bland Spanish.
"Ah, monsieur!" said the lady, springing towards him, "you have awakened at last."
"French, by Jove!" thought the invalid. "Napoleon has beaten us, and I am a prisoner."
"Ah! I have prayed for you very earnestly, and Heaven has heard me."
"What!" said Ronald in astonishment, "have you really been praying for me?"
"For you, monsieur," replied the young damsel, seating herself by his side.
"How very good of you, mademoiselle! But to what do I owe such happiness,—I mean, that you should take any interest in me?"