“Yes, chérie, I have no doubt it is,” I answered, sadly.
“I should not sigh over such a misfortune,” she cried, gayly. “You are cold-blooded creatures, you Scotch! Why, I should have been weeping on his neck long ago, no matter what had happened! He has eyes like yours.”
[CHAPTER XXIV]
RECONCILIATION
We found Mme. de Sarennes awaiting us in her room, with a generous bouillon warming over a lamp. “Hunger and faintness will not add to your courage, my daughters; sit down and eat. We shall have need of all our strength for the morrow,” she said, cheerfully. We were eager to discuss the events of the day, but she would not listen to a word. “You must be good soldiers now and obey orders; eat first, and then to bed. Angélique, do you set an example and go at once.”
“La cérémonie faite, chacun s'en fut coucher,” repeated Angélique, sleepily, as she kissed us and went. Then I turned to her mother.
“Mme. de Sarennes, I am in a difficulty. May I ask your help?”
“Marguerite, ma chérie, I am afraid I am thought a stern woman; but you know how dear those I love are to me, and I have learned to love you. You may speak to me as you would have spoken to your own mother,” she said, with a tenderness that went to my heart.
I arose and seated myself beside her, and with my hand in hers I told her of my home, of my life with Lady Jane, and my devotion to the cause of the Prince; of my pride in my only brother, and of what I considered his desertion, which led to my girlish renunciation and my estrangement from him. “He is the Captain Nairn who came with General Townshend to-night. What shall I do, madame?”
“You must go to him on the morrow, my child, without hesitation. Such a tie is too sacred to be thrown away lightly.” Here she paused, and laying her hand on my arm, said, in tones of the deepest feeling, “Marguerite, when you are an old woman like me, I pray you may never have to look back with regret on an opportunity for reconciliation cast aside.” She spake with such intense emotion that I could not doubt I had unwittingly stirred some painful memory of her past, but in a moment she recovered, and said, tenderly: “Remember, you both lay on the same breast; you looked into the same mother's eyes. Think of the pain it would cause her to know that there is anything in her children's hearts towards each other, save the love with which she filled them. But I need not say more; I see your intent in your face. Remember, too, we need all the interest we can command with our new guests. Now get some rest, my child; you are worn out.”