As she sat there she heard presently the trampling of horses and the roll of a carriage, and mechanically leaned forward to see who was passing, but without in the least caring. The bright bays and the sparkling harness were very familiar to her eyes, and she saw that Mrs. Ferrier herself was in the carriage. The woman's face was red and swollen with weeping and excitement, and as she passed the cottage she put up her hand as if she would have shut it from her sight. Evidently her interview with F. Chevreuse had been a stormy one, and had left her in anything but a charitable frame of mind.
Miss Pembroke looked indifferently at first, but a moment after she rose and took a step forward to see better; for F. Chevreuse and F. O'Donovan had appeared in the street in front of the carriage and stopped it, and the elder priest was speaking sternly to Mrs. Ferrier.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I am going to the prison to tell them to let Mr. Schöninger go free,” she answered defiantly. “I am going to take him to my house.”
“You are going to do nothing of the sort,” said the priest. “You have no right to, and will only do harm, and disgrace yourself.”
“I couldn't be more disgraced than I am already, with that ...” she began in a loud voice, but F. Chevreuse stopped her.
“Silence!” he said authoritatively. “You are insane.”
“John, drive on!” she called out of the window.
“John, you will not drive a step further,” said the priest in a low voice.
“You'd better do what he says, ma'am,” said John, leaning down from the box. “And you'd better not talk so loud. People are beginning to notice.”