The following day the governor returned. I, as usual, took my place at the dinner-table, and Nina met me with smiles. She seemed perfectly at ease, I, also, exerted myself to be cheerful, and none would have suspected that secret love was lurking in the bosoms of us both.
“I would that you had witnessed the review,” said the old soldier. “It was, indeed, a splendid spectacle. And the Emperor looked so delighted as the troops filed past! Well he might, a nobler or more perfect corps d’armée never was collected. Egad, the sight warmed this old blood again; and I think there’s stuff in me for another campaign. Will you, William, take charge of Madame and Claudine?” said the commandant, laughingly. I made some indifferent reply—Nina’s eye met mine—it seemed to say, the charge would have been a dangerous one.
We heard the inner gate of the fortress open, a horse’s feet clattered along the pavement, and, in a short time, a chasseur à cheval presented himself, and delivered a despatch to the commandant.
The moment the seal was broken the old man’s eye turned to me. “It is,” he said, “an answer to the memorial I handed to the Emperor yesterday. I petitioned for your liberty, William; and stated, in as warm language as I could, the grounds on which I asked the favour. I know, even from the promptness of the reply, that my application has been rejected. Well, it is only what I was prepared for. Let us read the terms of the refusal. lia! I know the handwriting; it is that of my old comrade, Duroc.
“‘I am desired, by his Majesty the Emperor, to acknowledge the receipt of a petition from Captain St. Simon. Its prayer, that the English sailor, William Rawlings, shall be set at liberty, is hereby peremptorily rejected.‘’
“I thought so,” said the commandant with a sigh, as he let the paper fall upon the floor. A deep and painful silence succeeded, while Claudine picked the letter up and handed it to her mother.
“Read it, Nina—we know the worst.”
The lady complied, taking up the perusal of the document at the point where her husband had stopped. “‘But from the moment this order comes to hand, give the gallant Englishman the enclosed bill, and let the preserver of the soldier’s child receive freedom from the hand of her father.’ See! the initial of the great Napoleon is annexed,—and a note for five hundred francs! You are free, William.’ May Heaven’s blessings light upon our gracious Emperor!” And Nina flung herself upon my breast. She wept—were her tears those of love or joy?
“I must be brief, Julia. By the first cartel, I came back to England—repaired to our native village—heard, for the first time, the sad tidings of your elopement—found my father living—my uncle dead—and learned that, for many months, the poor quarter-master had been in mourning for his son. To the broken-hearted old man the news was cautiously communicated that he was not so desolate as he believed himself. One child was restored to him as from the dead, and tidings were heard of the wanderer. Instantly, we set out to seek the lost one, and, thank Heaven! our search has not been vain. Yes, Julia, our once happy cottage shall again be the home of peace; and ere the sun sets, a father’s blessing shall seal the pardon of his returning child. And now, before we commence our journey, I have to compensate the officer for his trouble; and, indeed, without his assistance, I should have scarcely found you out. Was it not a strange fatality, that objects so different as those that brought the runner and myself from England, should have led us to the same point?” He said, and left the room. What occurred then and there between the fosterer and fair fugitive, may be readily imagined. Their troth was mutually interchanged; and, “resolved in future to do right,” subject to a father’s approbation, the lady consented at the expiration of a year to commit matrimony a second time, and share the fortunes of Mark Antony O’Toole.
As the travellers branched off by the roads which intersected each other in front of the little hostelrie, their appearance, and the objects of their present pursuits, might be taken as a tableau vivant of what life is—of what man aims at. By one road, the sailor and his sister were hastening to restore comfort to an afflicted heart—by another, the Jew, in charge of the officer of justice, was being conveyed to that home of felony—a jail. The third road tended to scenes of glory; and thither the soldier was hastening after seducing the student to quit the cloister for the field. The fourth route the fosterer took at chance, and reckless whither it might lead to, there Mark Antony determined to recommence his wanderings; and “the captain” having discovered that there was another who, for a time at least, was bent on taking the world as it came, at once proposed to form a travelling co-partnership.