The Admiral's Daughter

by Margaret Stuart Lane

'You know——'

'I know she betrayed Roger, if that is what you mean. Charity Borlase told me in a letter. Does my father know?'

'Not of my telling. 'Tis now,' the housekeeper counted on her fingers, 'eight days since the Admur'l came home, changed the horses, and straight up over for London. The Admur'l had heard down along about Master Roger, and with the look on his face no one dared speak to un—leastways not me. Mayhap Silas have told. And there be other things too,' wearily added the old woman. 'I scarce do know where to begin.'

'Leave it till my father comes, Curnow. It is all over now—all the trouble, I mean. The rest is for him to settle. Where—where is Mademoiselle?' Marion spoke with an effort.

'In her chamber. Her've never left un since the day Charity came up to have a few words, private-like, with she. Fear of what folk may do to un, may be. Zora have been telling that Victoire do say——'

'Victoire!' There was a curious look on Marion's face. 'When did Victoire come home?'

'The very day afore you did, Mistress Marion. That is to say, the night before last, when the house was abed. All unbeknownst her came in a coach from Plymouth. Seemingly the old woman in France yonder do be better. And yesterday—' a grim smile came on the housekeeper's face—'heart-sore and sick as I was, with the thought of dear Master Roger pressing on me, as 'ee might say, I couldn't forbear a smile when I saw Victoire eagerlike to talk to the wenches in the kitchen, and me having forbade they, most severe, to say one word to she.'

Marion got out of bed and began to dress. 'Curnow,' she said abruptly, 'I was never so thankful for anything in my life as that my Aunt Keziah is coming. Until Father returns, Aunt Keziah will see to Victoire and Mademoiselle. Don't let us talk of it, Curnow. I am trying not to think of it, even. It is horrible. Master Roger is safe. That is all that matters.'

The housekeeper presently went below, and Marion finished her dressing with a sober look on her face. The early joy and peace of the waking had vanished. For Marion, the last fortnight had been too much filled with immediate action to leave room for plans about the prime defaulter in the sorry affair. What should she say or do if she met Elise?

At length, feeling as uncomfortable as if she had to walk about alone in a haunted house, Marion went out of her chamber and set about the supervision of rooms for the coming guests.