Those were days of far severer imprisonment than are these, dungeons and chains being everyday matters. Molly had heard enough, even in her short life, of fettered and half-starved prisoners to cause her to be haunted by doleful visions.
In the daytime, when, by Mrs. Fairbank's desire, she was always fully occupied, it was easier to take a cheerful view of life; but Molly's time of misery began with nightfall. Often she would start out of a restless sleep, fancying that she saw Roy deep in some noisome underground cavern, with chains clanking on his wrists, while his big grey eyes appealed pitifully to her for help. Then she would hide her face, and would sob for an hour, and in the midst of her woe would come the sound of the old watchman shaking his rattle as he passed down the street, and calling out monotonously in sing-song tones, "Past one o'clock, and a fine starlight night." Or it might be, "Past three o'clock, and a rainy morning." Those old watchmen—"Charleys," as they were called—were the forerunners of our present police.
But of all this Molly said not a word to any human being. The only person whom she could have told was Polly.
In time a delightful letter arrived from Polly, written to Molly, telling how she and Mrs. Bryce had driven over from Folkestone to Sandgate, and had seen General Moore and Jack, and had inspected the preparations there made for a due welcome to Napoleon, when he should choose to make his appearance on British shores.
"And do but think, Molly," wrote Polly, "General Moore's dear old mother is down now at Sandgate, where she and her daughter have come to see again the General. For if Napoleon comes—and some say he will, and some say he will not—there must surely be hard fighting, and what that may mean none can tell beforehand. For sure it is, whatever happens, that General Moore will be in the thickest of the fight. And Jack tells me that when first Mrs. Moore arriv'd 'twas a touching sight indeed. She took her son into her arms, before all the Officers who were gather'd together, and burst into tears, doubtless thinking of the danger he must soon be in, and the many times he has been wounded. And not one present, Jack says, who did not testify his respect for her, nor his sympathy in her love for her heroic son.
"She has been at Sandgate for many weeks, and the General now urges her return home. For any day the French may make a move, and he wou'd fain have her away in a place of safety. But Mrs. Bryce and I have no fear, though all the world is in a great stir, waiting for the invaders to come. Jack wou'd love nothing better than to see the fleet of flat-bottomed boats approaching, that he might have a chance of fighting them and driving them back.
"I must tell you a story of Mr. William Pitt, who, being Warden of the Cinque Ports, has lately raised two regiments in this district, consisting of a thousand men each. He has often ridden over to General Moore's camp at Shorncliffe, and the two have talked together, General Moore telling his plans to Mr. Pitt. And one day Mr. Pitt said to General Moore, 'Well, Moore, but on the very first alarm of the enemy's coming, I shall march to aid you with my Cinque Port regiments, and you have not told me where you will place us.' Whereupon General Moore answered, 'Do you see that hill? You and yours shall be drawn up upon it, where you will make a most formidable appearance to the enemy, while I, with the soldiers, shall be fighting on the beach.' Mr. Pitt was excessively entertained with this reply, and laughed heartily.
"And that reminds me of another little tale which Jack told to me—not as to Mr. Pitt, but as to Mr. Fox. He was playing a game of cards one day, no long time agone, and on overhearing some story that was told, he threw his cards down, and cried out, 'Tell that again! I hear a good deal of General Moore, and everything good. Tell me that again.' But Jack could not say what it was that had been told, only he liked to know that Mr. Fox could so speak of one who is Mr. Pitt's friend. And though Mr. Pitt and General Moore be so intimate, yet General Moore will have it that he cares little which side shall be in power, so long only as the country is well governed. But some say that 'tis like to be no long time before we see Mr. Pitt once more at the head of the Government."
To this letter Molly sent a reply in her childish round handwriting, letting a little of her loneliness slip out, despite herself; and Mrs. Fairbank, much disturbed in mind on Polly's behalf, wrote also, suggesting arrangements for the greater safety of the people concerned.
(To be continued.)