“I do not know, chérie; neither your mother nor the Superior has given her permission as yet,” I answered, much troubled at her insistence.
“Oh, Marguerite, this is ungenerous of you!” cried the warm-hearted girl. “Think, how ready Charles was to serve you when you wished to go to Louisbourg! This is no time to stand on trifles.”
“Angélique take care you are not ungenerous yourself,” said Mme. de Sarennes, much to my relief. “Charles must not be childish in his demands. There is no reason why Marguerite should visit him until he is up and prepared to receive her fittingly, for there is no reason why war should banish every rule of decorum.” And with these decided words the difficulty was dismissed, though not at all to Angélique's satisfaction.
At daybreak on the 13th of September we were awakened by the sound of guns above the city, and hastened to the attic windows; but drift of passing showers hid the valley from us, while the Heights loomed grey and shrouded above. There was nothing to enlighten us, and in company with our fears we descended to wait uneasily for tidings.
I grew so anxious and depressed in the half-lighted halls that I could not remain below, and returned towards our room. But just as I approached the door some one came hurriedly along the corridor, and to my dismay I recognised M. de Sarennes.
“Stay one moment, mademoiselle; I must speak with you.” His voice was trembling, and even in the struggling light I could see his dark face was drawn and haggard, though his black eyes burned with a fiercer light than before.
“It is useless, M. de Sarennes; I can hear nothing you have to say. Remember your mother and sister are here within call, and you will only cause them pain if you force me to summon aid, which I will certainly do. Have some pity for them if you have none for me.”
“Answer me but one question. Do you love this Maxwell?”
“M. de Sarennes, I will tell you nothing. You have no right to question me.”
“My God, Marguerite! have I not done everything for you?”