"No. But I think that he must be very hard to send away, and Katie you know hates to say anything unkind. She doesn't see that it is the kindest way in the end. We shall not go until to-morrow, you know. If you have any letters, we shall be so glad to take them."
"Thank you once more." He stood still a moment. "The earl may be wise to stay on the field," he said. "I may be swept off conveniently. Yes, he is wise to wait and see what the fortunes of war will do for him."
"Oh! Mr. Archdale," cried Elizabeth, between indignation and tears at his want of faith. "How can you not trust her? Your letter that she was so eager to send will prove how wrong you are." Here Mr. Royal sauntered up, and the conversation turned upon the scene before them.
But in the midst of Archdale's description of one of their skirmishes a signal was given from the new battery. "They are signalling for me," he said. "My place is in command of those guns. I am sorry to leave my story half told, but I must go. I shall try to see you to-morrow." And with a hasty farewell he sprang into the boat. As he was rowed away, Elizabeth saw him put his hand into the pocket where he had slipped Katie's letter, and draw this out.
She sat down again in her favorite place on deck, laid her arms on the railing of the schooner and her face upon them. Now that her errand was done, she became aware that she was very tired. She sat so quiet that she seemed to be asleep. But she was only in a day-dream in which the thought of which she was most conscious was wonder that Archdale could doubt Katie. Had she not always been a coquette? And had she not always loved him? Yet Elizabeth wished that she could have said that Lord Bulchester had gone, wished that she could have seen Stephen Archdale's face brighten a little before he left them, perhaps forever; she had not forgotten the danger of his post. Nancy softly drew her chair close. But Elizabeth made no movement. She sat with her face still buried, thinking, remembering, longing to be at home again, counting the hours until they should probably sail.
Suddenly she started up. For there had come light that she saw through the dark folds that she had been pressing her eyes against. To her there was a sound as if the heavens were being rent, and she felt a trembling of the earth, as if it shook with terror at the spectacle. She stood a moment bewildered. It seemed as if the light never paled at all, but only changed its place sometimes; the roar was terrific, it never ceased, or lulled, and the water beneath them tossed and hissed in rage at its bed being so shaken. Nancy's hand sought her companion's with a reassuring pressure, for speech was impossible. But Elizabeth had only been unprepared. She recovered herself and smiled her thanks. Then she sat down again with her face toward the city and watched this cannonade, terrible to men grown grey in the service, as officers from the fleet bore witness, and to the enemy deadly.
For the fascine battery had opened fire.
At midnight General Pepperell sent for Archdale to detail him for special service the next day.
"Why! what's the matter?" he cried, looking at the young man as he came into the tent.
"Nothing, General Pepperell. I am quite ready for service," replied Stephen haughtily.