[CHAPTER XXXI.]
THE STORY OF MARION WYATT
For three days the rain--when it was not a damp snow that melted ere it reached the earth--had fallen, had been falling incessantly since Andrew and his companions were rescued; and now, in the best room of the inn at Plombières, Marion Wyatt lay slowly dying.
Andrew had caused her to be brought here for more reasons than one: firstly, because it was the best inn of the neighbourhood; and, secondly, because at Remiremont, on the morning of their escape, every room in the place had been occupied by the first brigade of Turenne's army, the brigade of cavalry eighteen hundred strong, accompanied by two companies of the Auxiliaries, which had crossed the Vosges with him.
Now, all were gone--the war had rolled towards Mühlhausen and Belfort, the junction was being made with the brigades which had passed the mountains by other routes; soon, this night, perhaps--the army of France would fall upon the unsuspecting Imperialists.
Yet, of that army, one member, at least, remained behind--one who, feeble and unable to take the field, though no longer with his brain clouded or his speech impaired, had been on his way into Lorraine under the protection of his countrymen--Valentin, Marquis Debrasques. The news of the rescue of two women and a man from the burning house which the brigade had observed on its downward march from the mountains, had reached his ears almost before he had found quarters--he having also been sent on to Plombières to do so; ere another hour had passed he, standing at the door of the inn, had seen them approaching, Marion and Clemence in a calèche that had been obtained at Remiremont, Andrew walking by their side on foot. Also, he had heard--nay, knew well enough, for in his aunt's life he had been here with her--whose house it was from which the flames streamed forth on the wintry morning air.
"You have saved her from him, at least," he said, his eye glancing into the calèche, where he saw Marion lying inert, her head on Clemence's shoulder. Then, sinking his voice even lower than it had been, he asked:
"And he. Is he dead?"
"Not yet," answered Andrew. "Not yet. He has evaded me so far!"
"Where is he?"