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diff --git a/old/52979.txt b/old/52979.txt deleted file mode 100644 index cfdd79b..0000000 --- a/old/52979.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11759 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sword of Gideon, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Sword of Gideon - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: September 5, 2016 [EBook #52979] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SWORD OF GIDEON *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of Michigan) - - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=vapMAAAAMAAJ - The Quiver, Annual Volume, 1905; - Published by Cassell and Company, Limited; - _London, Paris, New York & Melbourne_: which includes - THE SWORD OF GIDEON, a Serial Story By J. Bloundelle-Burton - pp. 1, 114, 317, 363, 502, 552, 698, 744, 840, 993, 1031, 1175, - 1226. Copyright, 1904, by John Bloundelle-Burton in the - United States of America. All rights reserved. - - 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - - - - - -[Illustration: VOLUNTEERS. -From the Painting by Arthur J. Black. -Exhibited in the Royal Academy, 1904.] - - - - - - -THE QUIVER - -ANNUAL VOLUME, 1905 - - -Principal Contributors - -Elizabeth Banks -Katharine Tynan -The Rev. John Watson, D.D. ("Ian Maclaren") -The Rev. R. F. Horton, D.D. -D. L. Wookmer -The Rev. Principal Forsyth, M.A., D.D. -The Duke of Argyll -The Rev. High Black, M.A. -The Dean of Worcester -The Bishop of Derry -The Rev. J. H. Jowett, M.A. -Raymond Blathwayt -Fred E. Weatherly -J. Bloundelle-Burton -Richard Mudie-Smith, F.S.S. -The Rev. F. B. Meyer, B.A. -The Rev. Arthur Finlayson -Guy Thorne -Pastor Thomas Spurgeon -Morice Gerard -Dr. T. J. Macnamara, M.P. -The Rev. H. B. Freeman, M.A. -The Rev. R. J. Campbell, M.A. -Ethel F. Heddle -Sir Robert Anderson, K.C.B. -The Rev. Mark Guy Pearse -May Crommelin -The Lord Bishop of Manchester -Scott Graham -Amy Le Feuvre -The Venerable Archdeacon Sinclair, -etc. etc. - - -CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED -_London, Paris, New York & Melbourne_ -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - -Exerpt: -SWORD OF GIDEON. THE Serial Story By J. Bloundelle-Burton - pp. 1, 114, 317, 363, 502, 552, 698, 744, 840, 993, 1031, 1175, - 1223. _Illustrated by W. H. Margetson_. - Copyright, 1904, by John Bloundelle-Burton in the United States. - _All rights reserved_. - - - - -THE SWORD OF GIDEON - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -To north and south and east and west horsemen were spurring fast on -the evening of May 15th, 1702 (N.S.), while, as they rode through -hamlets and villages, they heard behind them the bells of the churches -beginning to ring many a joyous peal. Also, on looking back over their -shoulders, they saw that already bonfires were being lit, and observed -the smoke from them curling up into the soft evening air of the -springtime. - -For these splashed and muddy couriers had called out as they passed -through the main streets of the villages that the long expected war -with France was declared at last by England, by Austria--or Germany, -as Austria was then called--and the States-General of the United -Netherlands. - -Wherefore, it was no wonder that the bonfires were instantly set -blazing and the bells ringing, since now, all said to the others, the -great, splendid tyrant who for sixty years had given orders from his -throne for battles, for spoliation and aggrandisement, for the -humbling of all other countries beneath the heel of France, would meet -his match. He--he! this superb arbiter of others' fate, who had in his -younger days been called _Le Dieudonne_ and in his older _Le Roi -Soleil_--he who had driven forth from their homes countless -Protestants and had cruelly entreated those who had remained by their -hearths, while desiring only to worship God in their own way and -without molestation, must surely be beaten down at last. - -"And--'tis good news!--Corporal John goes, they say," exclaimed -several of these horsemen as they drew bridle now and again at some -village inn, "as Captain-General of all Her Majesty's forces and chief -in command of the allied armies. He has been there before and hates -Louis; Louis who, although he gave him command of his English -regiment, would not give him command of a French one when he would -have served France. Let us see how he will serve _him_ now." - -"I pity his generals and his armies when my lord the Earl of -Marlborough crushes them between his ranks of steel," said one who -stood by; "the more so that Lewis"--as they called him in this -country--"has insulted us by espousing the claims of James's son, by -acknowledging him as King of England. He acknowledges him who is -barred for ever from our throne by the Act of Succession, and also -because his father forswore the oath he took in the Abbey." - -"He acknowledges the babe who, as I did hear Bishop Burnet say in -Salisbury Cathedral," a Wiltshire rustic remarked, "was no child at -all of the Queen, but brought into the palace in a warming pan, so -that an heir should not be wanting." - -"He persecutes all of our faith," a grave and reverend clergyman -remarked now; "a faith that has never harmed him; that, in truth, has -provided him with many faithful subjects who have served him loyally. -And now he seeks to grasp another mighty country in his own hands, -another great stronghold of Papistry--Spain. And wrongfully seeks, -since, long ago, he renounced all claims to the Spanish throne for -himself and his." - -A thousand such talks as this were taking place on that night of May -15th as gradually the horsemen rode farther and farther away from the -capital; the horsemen who, in many cases, were themselves soldiers, or -had been so. For they carried orders to commanders of regiments, to -Lord-Lieutenants, to mayors of country towns, and, in some cases, to -admirals and sea captains, bidding all put themselves and those under -them in readiness for immediate war service. Orders to the admirals -and captains to have their ships ready for sailing at a moment's -notice; to the commanders of regiments to stop all furlough and summon -back every man who was absent; to the Lord-Lieutenants to warn the -country gentlemen and the yeomanry. Orders, also, to the mayors to see -to the militia--the oldest of all our English forces, the army of our -freemen and our State--being called together to protect the country -during the absence of a large part of the regular troops. Beside all -of which, these couriers carried orders for food and forage to be -provided at the great agricultural centres; for horses to be purchased -in large quantities; for, indeed, every precaution to be taken and no -necessary omitted which should contribute towards the chance of our -destroying at last the power of the man who had for so long held the -destiny of countless thousands in his hand. - - -Meanwhile, as all the bells of London were still ringing as they had -been ringing from before midday, a young man was riding through the -roads that lay by the side of the Thames, on the Middlesex side of it. -A young man, well-built and as good-looking as a man should be; his -eyes grey, his features good, his hair long and dark, as was plainly -to be seen since he wore no wig. One well-apparelled, too, in a dark, -blue cloth coat passemented with silver lace, and having long -riding-boots reaching above his knees, long mousquetaire riding-gloves -to his elbows, and, in his three-cornered hat, the white cockade. - -He passed now the old church at Chelsea on the river's brink, and -smiled softly to himself at the _tintamarre_ made by the bells, while, -as he drew rein the better to guide his horse betwixt the old -waterside houses and all the confusion of wherries and cordage that -lumbered the road, or, rather, the rutty passage, he said to himself: - -"The torch is lighted. At last! 'Tis a grand day for England. And, -though I say it not selfishly, for me. Oh!" he went on, as now his -left hand fell gently to the hilt of his sword and played lovingly -with its curled quillon; "if I may draw you once again for England and -the Queen, and for all you represent for us," glancing at the old -church, wherein lay the bodies of such men as Sir Thomas More, who, in -his self-written epitaph, described himself in the bitterness wrung -from his heart as "_hereticisque_"; John Larke, an old rector of -Chelsea, executed at Tyburn for his Protestantism; and many other -staunch reformers. "Ah, yes," he continued, "if I may draw you against -Spain and her hateful Inquisition, against France and the tyrant who -persecutes all who love the faith you testify to; if I may but once -more get back to where I stood before, then at last shall I be happy. -Ah, well! I pray God it may be so. Let me see what cousin Mordaunt can -do." - -He was free now of the encumbered road betwixt the river and the old -houses: the way before him lay through open fields in some of which -there grew a vast profusion of many kinds of vegetables and orchard -fruits, while, in others, the lavender scented all the afternoon air; -whereupon, putting his horse to the canter, he rode on until he came -to an open common and, next, to a kind of village green--a green on -two sides of which were antique houses of substance, and in which was -a pond where ducks disported themselves. - -On the east side of the green, facing the pond, there stood embowered -in trees an old mansion, known as the Villa Carey. In after days, when -this old house had given place to a new one, the latter became known -as Peterborough House, doubtless to perpetuate the memory of the -dauntless and intrepid man who now inhabited it. - -Arrived at the old, weather-beaten oak gate, against which the storms -that the southwesterly gales brought up had beaten for more than two -centuries, the young man summoned forth an aged woman and, on her -arrival, asked if Lord Peterborough were within. - -"Ay, ay," the old rosy-cheeked lodge-keeper murmured; "and so in -truth he is. And to you always, Master Bracton. Always, always. Yet -what brings you here? Is't anything to do with the pother the bells -are making at Fulham and Putney and all around? And what is it all -about?" - -"You do not know? You have not heard?" Bevill Bracton answered, as he -asked questions that were almost answers. "You have not heard, even -though my lord is at home. For sure he knows, at least." - -"If he knows he has said nothing--leastways to me. After midday he sat -beneath the great tulip tree, with maps and charts on the carpet -spread at his feet above the grass, and twice he has sent off -messengers to Whitehall and once to Kensington, but still none come -anigh us in this quiet spot. But, Master Bevill," the old woman went -on, laying a knotted finger on the young man's arm--she had known him -from boyhood--"those two or three who have passed by say that great -things are a brewing--that we are going to war again as we went in the -late King's reign, and with France as ever; and that--and that--the -bells are all a-ringing because 'tis so." - -"And so it is, good dame Sumner. We are going to see if we cannot at -least check the King of France, who seeks now to make Spain a second -half of France. But come; we must not trifle with time. Let me hook my -bridle rein here, and you may give my horse a drink of water when he -is cool, and tell me where my lord is now. Great deeds are afoot!" - -"He is in the long room now. There shall you find him. Ay, lord! what -will he be doing now that war is in the air again? He who is never -still and in a dozen different cities and countries in a month." - -With a laugh at the old woman's reflections on her master's -habits--which reflections were true enough--Bevill Bracton went on -towards the house itself and, entering it by the great front door, -crossed a stone-flagged hall, and so reached a polished walnut-wood -door that faced the one at the entrance. Arrived at it, he tapped with -his knuckle on the panel, and a moment later heard a voice from inside -call out: - -"Who's there?" - -"'Tis I--Bevill." - -"Ha!" the voice called out again, though not before it had bidden the -young man come in, "and so I would have sworn it was. Why, Bevill," -the occupant of the room exclaimed, as now the young man stood before -him, and when the two had exchanged handshakes, "I expected you hours -before. When first the news came to me this morning----" - -"Your lordship knows?" - -"Know? Why, i' faith, of course I know. Is there anything Charles -Mordaunt does not know when mischief is in the wind?--Mordanto, as -Swift calls me; Sir Tristram, as others describe me; I, whose 'birth -was under Venus, Mercury, and Mars,' and who, like those planets, am -ever wandering and unfixed. Be sure I know it. As, also, I knew you -would come. Yet, kinsman, one thing I do not know--that one thing -being, what it is you expect to gain by coming, unless it is the hope -of finding the chance to see those Catholics, amongst whom you lived -as a youth, beaten down by sturdy Protestants like yourself." - -"For that, and to be in the fray. To help in the good cause--the cause -we love and venerate. Through you. By you--a kinsman, as you say." - -"You to be in the fray--and by me? Yet how is that to be? You are----" - -"Ah, yes! I know well. A broken soldier--one at odds with fortune. -Yet----" - -"Yet?" - -"Not disgraced. Not that--never that, God be thanked." - -"I say so, too. But still broken, though never disgraced. What you did -you did well. That fellow, that Dutchman, that Colonel Sparmann, whom -you ran through from breast to back--he may thank his lucky stars your -spadroon was an inch to the left of his heart--deserved his fate." - -"He insulted England," Bracton exclaimed. "He said that without King -William to teach us the art of war we knew not how to combat our -enemies. For that I challenged him, and ran him through. Pity 'twas I -did not----" - -"Nay; disable thine enemy--there is no need to kill him. All the -same," Lord Peterborough continued drily, "King William broke you for -challenging and almost killing a superior officer." - -"King William is dead. Death pays all debts." - -"I would it did! There are a-many who will not forgive me when I am -dead." - -"Queen Anne reigns, the Earl of Marlborough is at the head of the -army. My lord, I want employment; I want to be in this campaign. Oh, -cousin Mordaunt," Bevill Bracton said, with a break in his voice, "you -cannot know how I desire to be a soldier once again, and fighting for -my religion, my country, and the Queen. To be moving, to be a living -man--not an idler. I have never parted with this," and he touched the -hilt of the sword by his side, "help me; give me the right; find me -the way to draw it once more as a soldier." - -"How to find the way! There's the rub. Marlborough and I are none too -much of cater-cousins now. We do not saddle our horses together. And -he is--will be--supreme. If you would get a fresh guidon you had best -apply to him." - -"Even though I may have no guidon nor have any commission, still there -will surely be volunteers, and I may go as one." - -"There will be volunteers," Lord Peterborough said, still drily, "and -I, too, shall go as one." - -"You!" - -"Yes, I. Only it will be later. When," and he smiled his caustic -smile, "the others are in trouble. If Marlborough, if Athlone, or -Ormond, who goes too, finds things going criss-cross and contrary, -then 'twill be the stormy petrel, Mordanto, who will be looked to." - -"But when--when?" Bevill Bracton asked eagerly. - -"When they have had time to flounder in the mire; when Ginkell--I mean -my Lord Athlone--has, good honest Dutchman as he is, fuddled himself -with his continual schnapps drinking; or when Jack Churchill, sweet as -his temper is and well under control, can bear no more contradictions -and cavillings from his brother commanders. Then--then Charles -Mordaunt will be looked to again; then--for I can cast my own -horoscope as well as any hag can do it for me--I shall be invited to -put my hand in my pocket, to stake my life on some almost impossible -venture, to give them the advice that, when I attempt to offer it, -they never care to take." - -"But--but," Bevill said, "the time! The time!" - -"'Twill come. Only you are young, impatient, hot-headed. I am almost -old, yet I am the same sometimes--but you will not wait. What's to do, -therefore?" - -"I cannot think nor dream--oh, that I could!" - -"Then listen to me. 'Tis not the way of the world to do so until it is -too late; in your case you may be willing. Do you know Marlborough?" - -"As the subaltern knows the general, not being known by him. But no -more." - -"'Tis pity. Yet--yet if you could bring yourself before his notice; -if--if--you could do something that should come under his eyes--some -deed of daring----" - -"I must be there to do it--not here. At St. James's or Whitehall I can -do nought. The watch can do as much as I." - -"That's very true; you must be there. There! there! Let me see for it. -Where are the charts?" and Lord Peterborough went towards a great -table near the window, which was all littered with maps and plans that -made the whole heterogeneous mass look more like a battlefield itself -after a battle than aught else. - -"Bah!" his lordship went on, picking up first a plan and then a chart, -and throwing them down again. "Catalonia, Madrid, Barcelona, Cadiz. No -good! no good! Marlborough will not be there. The war may roll, must -roll, towards Spain, yet 'tis not in Spain that he will be. But -Holland--Brabant--Flanders. Ha!" he cried at the two latter names. -"Brabant--Flanders. And--why did I not think of it?--she is there, and -there's the chance, and--and, fool that I am! for the moment I had -forgotten it." - -"_She!_ The chance! Brabant! Flanders!" Bevill Bracton repeated, the -words stumbling over each other in his excitement. "She! Who? And what -have I to do with women--with any woman? I, who wish to do all a man -may do in the eyes of men?" - -"Sit down," Lord Peterborough said now, in a marvellously calm, a -suddenly calm, voice. "Sit down. I had forgotten my manners when I -failed to ask you to do so earlier." - -"Ah, cousin Mordaunt, no matter for the manners at such a moment as -this. Alas! you set my blood on fire when you speak of where the war -will be, of where it must be, and then--then--you pour a douche of -chill cold water over me by talking of women--of a woman." - -"Do I so, indeed? Well, hearken unto me," and his lordship leant -forward impressively and looked into the young man's eyes. "Hearken, I -say. This woman of whom I speak may be the guiding star that shall -light you along the path that leads to Marlborough, and all that he -can do for you. This woman, who may, in very truth, be your own -guiding star or----" - -"Or?" - -"She may lead to your undoing. Listen again." - - -[Illustration: "'Learn to know what Sylvia Thorne is like.'" (_p_. -6).] - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Had there been any onlooker or any listener at that interview now -taking place in the old house at Parson's Green, either the eyes of -the one or the ears of the other could not have failed to be impressed -by what they saw or heard. - -Above all, no observer could have failed to be impressed by the -character of the elder man, Charles Mordaunt, Earl of Peterborough and -Monmouth, who, although so outwardly calm, was in truth all fire -within. - -For this man, who was now forty-seven years of age, had led--and was -still to lead for another thirty years--a life more wild and stirring -than are the dreams of ordinary men. As a boy he had seen service at -sea against the Tripoli corsairs, he had next fought at Tangiers, and, -on the death of Charles II., had been the most violent antagonist of -the Papist King James. An exile next in Holland, he had proposed to -the Prince of Orange the very scheme which, when eventually adopted, -placed that ungracious personage on the English throne, yet, at the -time, he had received nothing but snubs for his pains. He had, after -this, escaped shipwreck by a miracle, and, later, lay a political -prisoner in the Tower, from which he emerged to become not long -afterwards Governor of Jamaica. In days still to come he was to -capture Barcelona by a scheme which his allies considered to be, when -it was first proposed to them, the dream of a maniac; he was to rescue -beautiful duchesses and interesting nuns and other _religieuses_ from -the violence of the people, to be then sent back to England as a man -haunted by chimeras, next to be given the command of a regiment, to be -made a Knight of the Garter, and to be appointed an Ambassador. Nor -was this all. He flew from capital to capital as other men made trips -from Middlesex to Surrey; one of his principal amusements was planting -the seeds and pruning the trees in his garden with his own hands; he -would buy his own provisions and cook them himself in his beautiful -villa, and he was for many years married to a young and lovely wife, -who had been a public singer, and whom he never acknowledged until his -death was close at hand. - -As still Lord Peterborough foraged among the mass of papers on the -table, turning over one after the other, and sometimes half a dozen -together, Bevill Bracton recognised that he was seeking for some -particular scroll or document amidst the confused heap. - -"What is it, my lord?" the young man asked. "Can I assist you?" - -"Nay. If I cannot find what I want for myself, 'tis very certain none -can do it for me. Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed, pouncing down like an -eagle on a large, square piece of paper which was undoubtedly a -letter. "Ah! here 'tis. A letter from the woman who is to give you -your chance." - -"I protest I do not comprehend----" - -"You will do so in time. Bevill," his lordship went on, "do you -remember some ten years ago, before you got your colours in the -Cuirassiers and, consequently, before you lost them, a little child -who played about out there?" and the Earl's eyes were directed towards -the great tulip tree on the lawn. - -"Why, yes, in very truth I do. I played with her oft, though being -several years older than she. A child with large, grey eyes fringed -with dark lashes; a girl who promised to be more than ordinary tall -some day; one well-favoured too. I do recall her very well. She was -the child of a friend of yours, and her name was--was--Sophia, was it -now?--or Susan? Or----" - -"Neither; her name was Sylvia, and is so still--Sylvia Thorne." - -"Sylvia Thorne--ay, that is it. She promised to become passing fair." - -"She is passing fair--or was, when I saw her last, two years ago. She -is not vastly altered if I may judge by this," and Lord Peterborough -went to a cabinet standing by one of the windows and, after opening a -drawer, came back holding in his hand a miniature. - -"Regard her," he said to Bracton, as he handed him the miniature; -"learn to know what Sylvia Thorne is like. Learn to know the form and -features of the woman who may lead to restoring you to all you would -have, or--you are brave, so I may say it--send you to your doom." - -"Why," Bracton exclaimed while looking at the miniature and, in actual -fact, scarce hearing Lord Peterborough's words, so occupied was he, -"she is beautiful. Tall, stately, queen-like, lovely. Can that little -child have grown to this in ten years?" - -In absolute fact the encomiums the young man passed upon the form and -features that met his eye were well deserved. - -The miniature, a large one, displayed a full, or almost full length -portrait of a young woman of striking beauty. It depicted a young -woman whose head was not yet disfigured by any wig, so that the dark -chestnut hair, in which there was now and again a glint of that ruddy -gold such as the old Venetians loved to paint, waved free and -unconfined above her forehead. And the eyes were as Bevill Bracton -recalled them, grey, and shrouded with long dark lashes. Only, now, -they were the eyes of a woman, or one who was close on the threshold -of womanhood, and not those of a little child; while a straight, small -nose and a small mouth on which there lurked a smile that had in it -something of gravity, if not of sadness, completed the picture. As for -her form, she was indeed "more than common tall," and, since there was -no suspicion of hoop beneath the rich black velvet dress she wore, -Bracton supposed that it was donned for some ball or festival. - -"She is beautiful!" he exclaimed again. "Beautiful!" - -"Ay, and good and true," Lord Peterborough said. "Look deep into those -eyes and see if any lie is hidden therein; look on those lips and -ponder if they are highroads through which falsehood is like to pass." - -"It is impossible. If the eyes are the windows of the soul, as poets -say, then truth, and naught but truth, shelters behind them. And this -is Sylvia Thorne But still--still--I do not comprehend. How shall she -bring me before my Lord Marlborough? How advance my hopes and desires? -Stands she so high that she has power with him?" - -"She is a prisoner of France." - -"What? She, this beautiful girl, she a prisoner of France, of -chivalrous France, for chivalrous France is, though our eternal foe?" - -"Yes, in company with some thousands of others, mostly Walloons--muddy -Hollanders all--and mighty few English, if any. She is shut up in -Liege, and the whole bishopric of Liege is in the hands of France -under the command of De Boufflers." - -"What does she there--she, this handsome English girl, in a town of -Flanders now possessed by the French--she whom, I take it, since now I -begin to comprehend--and very well I do!--I am to rescue?" - -"One question is best answered at a time. Martin Thorne, her father, -was my oldest friend. When James mounted the throne of England he, -like your father and myself, was one of those honest adherents of the -Stuarts who could not abide the practices James put in motion. He -himself had been in exile with Charles and James while Cromwell lived, -and he, again like your father, went into exile when James became a -Papist." - -"My father never returned from abroad," Bevill remarked. - -"I know--I know. But Thorne returned only to go abroad again. Your -father was, however, well to do. Thorne was not so. When a young exile -during Cromwell's rule he had been in Liege, in a great merchant's -house, since it was necessary he should find the means whereby to -live. When he returned to Liege twenty-six years afterwards he had -some means, and he became on this second occasion a merchant himself." - -"I begin to understand." - -"He thrived exceedingly. 'Tis true England was almost always at war -with France, but war is good for commerce. Thorne profited by this -state of affairs, and so grew rich. Sylvia is rich now, but the French -hold Liege. She would escape from that city." - -"Will they not let her go? She is a woman. What harm can she do either -by going or staying?" - -"They will let none go now who are strangers. Ere long this war, which -the claims of Louis to the Spanish succession on behalf of his -grandson have aroused, will have two principal seats--Flanders and -Spain. There are such things as hostages; there are such things as -rich people buying their liberty dearly. And Sylvia is rich, and they -know it. Much of her wealth is placed in England, 'tis true, but much -also is there, in Liege. Short of one chance, the chance that, in the -course of this campaign Liege should fall into the hands of one of our -allies, she may have to remain there until peace is made--and that -will not be yet. Not for months--perhaps years." - -"But if she should escape--what of her wealth then?" - -"She will be free, and still she will be rich; while if, as I say, -Liege falls into the allies' hands she will not even lose her property -there. But, at the moment, she desires only one thing; and that -desire, being a rich woman, she is anxious to gratify. She is anxious -to return to England." - -"And I--I am to be the man to help her to do so--to aid her to escape -from Liege. I'll do it if 'tis to be done." - -"Well spoken; especially those last words. 'If 'tis to be done.' Yet -pause--reflect." - -"I have reflected." - -Though, however, Bevill had said, "I have reflected," it would -scarcely seem as if Lord Peterborough placed much confidence in his -statement, since, either ignoring what his young kinsman had said or -regarding his words as of little worth, he now proceeded to tell the -latter what difficulties, what dangers, would lie in his path. - -"I would not send you to that which may, in truth, lead to your doom -without giving you fair warning of what lies before you," his lordship -commenced, while, as he spoke, his eyes were fixed on Bevill -Bracton--fixed thus, perhaps, because he who, in this world, had never -been known to flinch at or fear aught, was now anxious to see if the -solemn speech he had just uttered could cause the other to blench. -Observing, however, that, far from such being the case, Bracton simply -received that speech with an indifferent smile, Peterborough went on. - -"From the very instant you set foot on foreign ground, every step your -feet take will be environed with difficulty and danger. For, since you -could by no possibility go as an Englishman, it follows that you must -be a Frenchman." - -"Am I not already half a Frenchman?" the young man asked. "From the -day my father took me to France until I got my colours, I spoke, I -read--almost thought--in French. I learnt my lessons in French; I had -French comrades, as every follower of the Stuarts had, since we were -welcome enough in France; I was French in everything except my -religion and my heart. They were always English." - -"Therefore," Lord Peterborough continued, for all the world as though -Bracton had not interrupted him or uttered one word, "if you, passing -as a Frenchman, fell into the hands of the French and were discovered -to be an Englishman, your shrift would be short." - -"I shall never be discovered." - -"While," his lordship continued imperturbably, "if the English, or -the Dutch, or the Austrians, or the Hanoverians, or the troops of -Hesse-Cassel--for all are in this Grand Alliance, as well as the -Prussians and the Danes, who do not count for much, though even they -will be powerful enough to string a supposed spy up to the branch of a -tree--if any of these get hold of you, thinking you a spy of one or -t'other side, well! your life will not be worth many hours' purchase." - -"I shall soon prove to the English that I am not a Frenchman, and to -the others that I am not a spy. I presume your lordship can provide me -with a passport?" - -"I can do so, but it will be that of a Frenchman. Bolingbroke, -who is now, as you know, Secretary-of-War--oh! la-la! he -Secretary-of-War!--has some already prepared. His French hangers-on -have provided him with those. All Frenchmen are not loyalists. You -will not be the first or only English spy abroad." - -"Yet I shall not be a spy." - -"Not on the passport, but if you are limed you will be treated as one. -I disguise nothing from you." - -"And terrify me not at all. As soon as I have that passport I am gone. -I shall not return until I bring Mistress Sylvia Thorne with me." - -"Fore 'gad, you are a bold fellow! I am proud to have you of my kith -and kin. Yet you will want something else. What money have you?" - -"I had forgotten that. Money, of course, I have, yet--yet----" - -"Not enough. Is that it? Hey? Well, you shall have enough--enough to -help you bravely; to bring you, if Providence watches over you, safely -to Liege and before the glances of Sylvia's grey eyes. And, then, -Heaven grant you may both get back safely." - -"I have no fear. What a man may do I will do. Yet, my lord, one thing -alone stands not clearly before my eyes. God, He knows, I go willingly -enough to obey your behests, your desires; to, if it may be, help a -young maiden to quit a town which may soon be ravaged by war; a town -to be, perhaps, held by our enemies for months or even years. From my -heart I do so. Yet--ah!--how shall I by this do that on which I have -set my heart? How get back again to the calling I have loved and -forfeited--though forfeited unjustly? How will this commend me to my -Lord Marlborough?" - -"What! How? Why, heart alive! if Marlborough but hears you have done -such a thing as this, your new commission will be as good as signed by -Queen Anne. He hath ever an eye for a quick brain, a ready hand. 'Tis -thus that great men rise or, being risen, help to maintain their -eminence. The workman who chooses good tools does ever the best of -work." - -"Therefore I need not fear?" - -"Fear! Fear nothing; above all, fear not that you shall go unrewarded. -Moreover, remember Jack Churchill has ever been a valiant cavalier of -_le beau sexe, un preux chevalier_; remember his devotion to his wife, -handsome shrew though she be. Great commander though he is, he is not -above advancing those soldiers who can help beauty in distress. - -"Now," Lord Peterborough concluded, "go and hold yourself in -readiness, remembering always that she whom you go to succour is the -child of a man I loved--of my dearest, my dead, friend. Remember, too, -that she is young and good and pure and honest. Now go, remembering -this; and when I send for you--'twill not be long--return. Then, when -you have my last instructions, as also the money and the passport, -with, too, a letter for Sylvia Thorne, I will bid you God speed. -Go--farewell!" - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -[Illusration: "'Not forgotten, monsieur dares to hope.'"--_p_. 10.] - - -The bilander _Le Grand Roi_, flying French colours, was making her way -slowly up the Scheldt to Antwerp, as she had been doing for five -hours, namely, from the time she had entered the river. Two days -before this time she had left Harwich, while, since the proclamation -had been made in London and the principal cities of England that all -French and Spanish subjects were to quit the country, and that they -would be permitted to depart without molestation and also would not be -interfered with while proceeding on the high seas to their -destination, she had arrived safely. She was close to Antwerp now; the -spire of the cathedral had long since become visible as _Le Grand Roi_ -passed between the flat, marshy plains that bordered the river; she -would be moored, the sailors said, within another hour--moored in -Antwerp, which, since the death of Charles II. of Spain, eighteen -months before this time, had been seized by the French. For the whole -of this region, the whole of Flanders, was now no longer the vast -barrier of Western Europe against the power and ambition of the Great -King, but was absolutely his own outworks and barrier against his -foes. - -On board the old-fashioned craft--which had brought away from England -Frenchmen and Frenchwomen of all classes, from secretaries of the -Embassy and ladies attached to the suite of the ambassadress, down to -the croupiers of the faro banks and the women employed by the French -milliners in London, as well as a choice collection of French spies -who had been earning their living in the capital--all was now -excitement. For, ere anyone on board would be permitted to land, their -passports would have to be examined, their features, height, and other -details of their appearance compared with those passports, and any -baggage they might possess would be scrupulously inspected. If all -were ashore and housed by the afternoon, or were enabled to set out on -their further journey, the sailors told the travellers they might -indeed consider themselves lucky. - -"Nevertheless," said a young man who sat on the small raised deck on -which the wheelhouse stood, while he addressed a young French lady who -sat by his side, "it troubles me but very little. So that I reach -Louvain in two days, or three, for the matter of that, or even four, I -shall be well content." - -"Monsieur is not pressed?" this young lady said, after looking at her -mother who sat asleep on the other side of her, and then glancing at -the young man. And, in truth, the object of her second glance was -worthy of observation, since he was good-looking enough to merit -scrutiny. His dark features were well set off by his wig, his manly -form was none the worse for the gallooned, dark blue travelling coat -and deep vest he wore. A handsome young man this, many had said in the -last two days on board; a credit to France, the land, as they, told -each other often--perhaps because they feared the fact might be -overlooked even by themselves--of handsome men and lovely women. Even -his _mouches_ on the cheeks, his extremely fine lace and his sparkling -rings were forgiven by his fellow-passengers, since, after all, were -not patches and lace of the best, and jewels, the appanage of a true -French gentleman? And a gentleman M. de Belleville was--a gentleman -worthy of the greatest country in the universe, they modestly added. - -"Not the least in all the world," this graceful, airified young man -answered the young lady now in an easy manner; "not the least, I do -assure you, mademoiselle. In truth, I am so happy to have left England -behind that now I am out of it I care not where else I am." - -"Monsieur has seemed happy since he has been on board. He has played -with the children, given his arm to the elderly ladies, assisted the -older men as they staggered about with the roll of the ship, played -cards with the younger. Monsieur will be missed by all when we part at -Antwerp." - -"But not forgotten, monsieur dares to hope," the graceful M. de -Belleville said. - -"Agreeable persons are never forgotten," his companion of the moment -replied, she being evidently accustomed to the _riposte_. "But, -monsieur, this war, this Grand Alliance, as our enemies term -it--tell me, it surely cannot last long? This Malbrouck of whom they -speak, this fierce English general--he cannot--undoubtedly he -cannot--prevail against King Louis' marshals!" - -"Impossible, mademoiselle!" the young man exclaimed, while his eyes -laughed as he answered. "Impossible! What? Against De Boufflers, -Tallard, Villeroy, and the others? Yet there is one thing in his -favour, too. He served France once." - -"He! This Malbrouck. He! Yet now he fights against her!" - -"In truth he did, and so learnt the art of war. He was colonel of the -English regiment in the Palatinate under Turenne. That should have -taught him something. Also----" - -But there came an interruption at this moment. The side of the -bilander grated against the great timbers of the dock, the hawsers -were thrown out; _Le Grand Roi_ had arrived at the end of her journey. -A moment later the _douaniers_ were swarming into the vessel, hoarse -cries were heard, the passengers were ordered to prepare their -necessaries for inspection, and to have their papers ready. - -Among some of the first, though not absolutely one of the first, M. de -Belleville was subjected to inspection. His passport was perused by -the _douanier_, who mumbled out as he did so, "Height, five feet ten. -_Hein!_" raising his eyes to the young man's face. "I should have said -an inch more." - -"I should have said two more," M. de Belleville replied with a laugh. -"_Mais, que voulez vous?_ The monsieur at our embassy would have it -so, in spite of my pardonable remonstrances. Therefore five feet ten I -have to be. And he was short himself. Let us forgive him." - -"Monsieur is gay and debonair. _Bon!_ That is the way to live long. -Eyes, dark. _Bon!_ Hair," putting up a forefinger and lifting M. de -Belleville's peruke an inch or so, "dark. _Bon!_ Age, twenty-nine." - -"Another affront. I assure you, monsieur, I told the gentleman I am -but twenty-eight and four months." - -"_Ohe!_ Monsieur has a light vein. When a man has passed twenty-eight -he is twenty-nine in the eyes of the law. Monsieur's vanity need not -be offended. Now, monsieur, the pockets. 'Tis but a ceremony, I assure -monsieur." - -The pockets were soon done with. The man saw a purse through which -glistened many pistoles and louis d'or and gold crowns, several bills -drawn by the great French banker Bernard, which could be changed -almost anywhere, and--a portrait. - -"_Hein!_" the man said, though not rudely. "A beautiful young lady. -Handsome as monsieur himself, doubtless one whom----" - -"Precisely. There is nothing more?" - -"Except the baggage." - -"I have none. By to-night, or to-morrow, or the next day, I hope to be -in Marshal de Boufflers' lines." - -"Monsieur must ride then. The Marshal's lines stretch from----" - -"I know. I shall reach them as soon as horse can carry me." - -After which the young man was permitted to walk ashore. - - -"So," 'Monsieur de Belleville' said to himself, as now, with his -large cloak over his arm, he made his way to the vicinity of the -cathedral, "I am here. So far so good. Yet this is but the first step. -I must be wary. Vengeance confound the vagabond!" he went on as his -thought changed. "I wish he had not looked on that sweet face and -stately form of Sylvia Thorne. Almost it seems a sacrilege. Cousin -Mordaunt gave me that as my passport to her. I wonder if he dreams of -how many times I have gazed on it since I parted from him? Still, it -had to be shown." - -Consoled with this reflection, the young man continued on his way -until the _carillons_ sounding above his head told him that the -cathedral was close at hand. Then, emerging suddenly from a narrow -street full of lofty houses, he found himself on the cathedral -_place_, and looked around for some hostelry where he might rest for -the day and part of the night. - -His first necessity was a horse. This it was important he should -obtain at once, directly after he had procured a room and a meal. Yet, -he thought, there should be no difficulty in that. The French, who -never neglected the art of possessing themselves of the spoils of war, -were reported to have laid all the country round under such -contributions of food, cattle, forage, and other things, that he had -read in the _Flying Post_ ere he left London how, in spite of their -large armies scattered over Flanders, they were now selling back at -very small prices the things they had plundered. - -"But first for an inn," said Bevill Bracton (the _soi-disant_ M. de -Belleville) to himself. Directing his steps, therefore, across the -wide _place_ and towards a deep archway, over which was announced the -name of an inn, he entered the house and stated that he wanted a room -for the night. - -"A room?" the surly Dutch landlord repeated, looking up as he heard -himself addressed in the French language--doubtless he had good reason -to be surly! "A room? Two dollars a night, payable in advance." - -"'Tis very well. You do not refuse French money?" - -"No, 'specially as we see little enough of it. Hans," addressing a boy -in the courtyard after he had received the equivalent of two dollars, -"show the French gentleman to No. 89. All food and wine," he added, -"is also payable in advance." - -"That can also be accomplished. Likewise the price of a horse, if I -can purchase one." - -"_Ja, ja!_ Very well!" the man said, brisking up at this. "If monsieur -desires a horse, and will pay for it, I have many from which he may -choose." - -"So be it; when I descend I will inspect them. Now," to the boy, "show -me to the room." - -Arrived at No. 89, which, like all Dutch rooms, was scrupulously clean -if bare of aught but the most necessary furniture, Bevill, after -having made some sort of toilette, and one which would have to suffice -until he had bought a haversack and some brushes and other -necessaries, was ready for his meal. - -He went downstairs now to where the surly Dutch landlord still sat in -his little bureau, and asked him if the horses were ready for -inspection. Receiving, however, the information that two or three had -been sent for from some stables that were in another street, he -decided to proceed to the long, low room where repasts were partaken -of. Before he did so, however, the landlord told him that it was -necessary to inscribe his name and calling in a register that was kept -of all guests staying at the inn. - -Knowing this to be an invariable custom, as it had always been for -many long years--for centuries, indeed--on the Continent, Bevill made -no demur, but, taking a pen, he dipped it in the inkhorn and wrote -down, "Andre de Belleville, Francais, Secretaire d'Embassade recemment -a Londres," since thus ran the passport which had been procured for -him by Lord Peterborough. - -After which, on the landlord having stated that this information was -all that the Lieutenant of Police would require, Bevill proceeded to -the room where a meal could be obtained--a meal which, as he had -already been warned, he would have to pay for in advance. For now--and -it was not to be marvelled at--there was no Dutchman in all Holland -who would trust any Frenchman a sol for bite, or sup, or bed. - -By the time this repast was finished, the horses from which Bevill was -to select one were in the courtyard, and, being informed of this, he -went out to see them. One glance from his accustomed eye, the eye of -an ex-cuirassier who had followed William of Orange and fought under -his command, was enough to show him that any one of them was -sufficient for his purpose of reaching Liege by ordinary stages. -Therefore the bargain was soon struck, six pistoles[1] being paid for -the stoutest of the animals, a strong, good-looking black horse, and -the one that seemed as if, at an emergency, it could attain a good -speed--an emergency which, Bevill thought, might well occur at any -moment on his route through roads and towns bristling with French -soldiers. - -As, however, the landlord and he returned to the bureau to complete -the transaction, Bevill saw, somewhat to his surprise, a man leave the -bureau--a man elderly and cadaverous--one who wore a bushy beard that -was almost grey, and who looked as though he was far advanced in a -decline. A man whose face appeared familiar to Bracton, yet one which, -while being thus familiar, did not at first recall to him the moment -or place where he had once seen or known him. - -"Fore 'gad!" he said to himself. "Where have I seen that fellow?" And -Bevill Bracton glanced down the passage as though desiring that the -man would return. Not seeing him, however, he stepped back from the -gloom of the passage into the sunshine of the courtyard and counted -out into his hand the six pistoles he was to pay. Then, as he did so, -he heard a step behind him--a step which he imagined to be that of the -landlord as he came forth with the receipt, and, looking round, saw -that the strange man was now in the bureau, and bending over the -register. A moment later he heard him say to the landlord, while -speaking in a husky, soddened voice: - -"There was no secretary named Andre de Belleville at the French -Embassy. The statement is false. I shall communicate with the -Lieutenant of Police at once. I warn you not to let him depart." - -Then, in an instant, the man was gone, he passing down the passage and -out into the Dutch kitchen garden. - -But Bevill had heard enough, had learnt enough. - -The voice of the man, added to what he had already seen of him, aided -his wandering recollection--it told him who the man was. - -"'Tis Sparmann," he said to himself. "Sparmann, who, two years ago, -had my sword through him from front to back. It is enough. There is no -rest here for me. To-night I must be far from Antwerp. My lord said -well. It is death if I am discovered." - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -The great high road that runs almost in a straight line from Antwerp -to Cologne passes through many an ancient town and village, each and -all of which have owned the sway of numerous masters. For Spain once -had its grip fast on them, as also did Austria, Spain's half-sister; -dukes, reigning over the provinces, fierce, cruel, and tyrannical, -have sweated the blood from out the pores of the back-bowed peasants; -prince-bishops, such as those of Liege and Antwerp and Cologne, have -also held all the land in their iron grasp; even the Inquisition once -heaped its ferocious brutalities on the dwellers therein. Also, France -has sacked the towns and cities of the land, while armies composed of -men who drew their existence from English soil have besieged and -taken, and then lost and taken again, those very towns and cities and -villages. - -Among the cities, at this period garrisoned and environed by one of -the armies of Louis le Grand, none was more fair and stately than -Louvain, though over her now there hangs, as there has hung for two -hundred years, an air of desolation. For she who once numbered within -her walls a hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants has, since the War -of the Spanish Succession, been gradually becoming more and more -desolate; her great University, consisting once of forty colleges, -exists only in a very inferior degree; where streets full of stately -Spanish houses stood are meadows, vineyards, gardens, and orchards -now. - -But Louvain was still stately, as, at sunset in the latter part of May -in the year of our Lord 1702, a horseman drew up at the western -_porte_ of the city walls, and, hammering on the great storm-beaten -gate, clamoured for admission to the city. A horseman mounted on a -bright bay--one that had a shifty eye, yet, judging by its lean flanks -and thin wiry legs, gave promise of speed and endurance. A rider to -whose shoulders fell dark, slightly curling hair, and whose complexion -was bronzed and swarthy as though from long exposure to the sun and -wind and rain. - -"Cease! Cease!" a voice in French growled out from the inner side of -the great gate. "Cease, in the name of all the fiends! The gate has -had enough blows dealt on it in the centuries that are gone since it -first grew a tree. Thy sword hilt will neither do it good nor batter -it down. Also, I come. I do but swallow the last mouthful of my -supper." - -"I do beseech thee, _bon ami_," the traveller called back with a -mocking laugh, "not to hurry thyself. My lady can wait thy time. The -air is fresh and sweet outside, the wild flowers grow about the gate, -and I am by no means whatever pressed. Eat and drink thy fill." - -"Um--um!" the voice from inside grunted. "Whoe'er you are, you have a -lightsome humour, a jocund tongue. I, too, do love my jest. _Peste!_ -These sorry Hollanders know not what wit and mirth are--therefore I -will open the gate. Ugh! ugh! ugh!" - -"Hast choked thyself in thine eager courtesy? Wash it down, man--wash -it down with a flask of Rhine wine." - -But as the traveller thus jeered the great gate grunted and squeaked -on its huge hinges; then slowly, with many more rasping sounds, one -half of it opened wide. - -"A flask of Rhine wine," muttered the warder, an elderly man clad in a -soldierlike-looking dress, and one who looked as if not only the Rhine -wines, but those of Burgundy and Bordeaux, were well known to him. "A -flask of Rhine wine. Where should I, a poor soldier of the Regiment de -Beaume, and a wounded one at that, get flasks of wine?" - -"Where? Why, _camarade_, from a friend. From me. Here," and, putting -his hand to his vest pocket, the cavalier tossed down a silver crown -to the warder. - -"Monsieur is an officer," the soldier said, stiffening himself to the -salute, while his eye roamed over the points of the bright bay, and -observed the handsome, workman-like sword that lay against its flanks, -and also the good apparel of the rider. "He calls me _camarade_, and -is lavish." - -"Aye, an officer. Now, also disabled by a cruel blow. One who is still -weak, yet who hopes ere long to draw this again," touching his -quillon. "Of the cavalry. Now, see to my papers, and then let me on my -way." - -"To the lady who awaits monsieur," the man said with a respectful -smile. - -"Tush! I did but jest. There is no lady fair for me. I ride -towards--towards--the Rhine, there to take part against the Hollanders -who cluster thick, waiting to join Malbrouck." As the horseman spoke, -he drew forth a paper from his pocket, and, bending over his horse's -neck, handed it to the man. - -"Le Capitaine Le Blond," the latter read out respectfully, "capitaine -des Mousquetaires Gris. Travelling to Cologne. Bon, monsieur le -capitaine," saluting as he spoke. "Pass, mon capitaine." - -"Tell me first a good inn where I may rest for the night." - -"There are but two, 'L'Ours' and 'Le Duc de Brabant.' The first, -monsieur le capitaine, is the best. The wine is--_o_--_he_--superb, -adorable. Also it is full of officers. Some mousquetaires are of them. -Monsieur should go there. There are none at the other." - -"I will," the captain of mousquetaires said aloud as he rode on, -though to himself he muttered, "Not I. 'Le Duc de Brabant' will -suffice for me." - - -When Bevill Bracton recognised Sparmann in the inn at Antwerp he knew, -as has been told, that he already stood in deadly peril. Already, -though he had scarce been ashore two hours! Nevertheless, while he -recognised this and understood that at once, without wasting a moment, -he must form some plans for quitting Antwerp, and also, if possible, -assuming a fresh disguise, he could by no means comprehend the -presence of Sparmann in the city. Nor could he conceive what this man, -a Dutchman, could have to do with the French Lieutenant of Police, an -official who must surely be hated by the townspeople as much as, if -not more than, the rest of their conquerors. - -Re-entering the passage now, and approaching the bureau with the -determination of discovering something in connection with his old -enemy, if it were possible to do so, Bevill observed that the -landlord's eyes were fixed upon him with a glance that was half -menacing and half derisive, while, as he perceived this, he reflected, -"Doubtless the man is rejoiced to see one of the hated French, as he -supposes me to be, outwitted by his own countryman." After which he -addressed the other, saying: - -"Who is that man who throws doubt upon my identity and the passport I -carry, issued by the French Embassy in London?" - -"He! _ach_ he! One who is a disgrace to the country that bore him-- -to this city, for of Antwerp he is. He was once an officer in the -Stadtholder's bodyguard, the Stadtholder who was made King of England; -yet now he serves the French, your countrymen. Bah!" and the landlord -spat on the floor. "Now he is a spy on his own. A--a--a _mouchard_." - -"But why? Why?" - -"He has been disgraced. He was always in trouble. A soldier--a young -one, too; an English officer, as it is said--ran him through for -jeering at the English soldiers; then, since he was despised by his -own brother-officers for being beaten, he took to drinking. At last, -he was broken. Then he joined the French, your countrymen. Only, since -he had been beaten by an Englishman, they would not have him for a -soldier. So he became _un espion_. For my part, I would that the -English officer had slain him. To think of it! A Hollander to serve -the French!" - -"I fear you do not love the French," Bevill said quietly, a sudden -thought, an inspiration, flashing to his brain even as the landlord -poured out his contempt on his own compatriot. "The English appear to -have your sympathy." - -"Does the lamb love the tiger that crushes it between its jaws? Does -the hare love the spring in which it is caught? Yet--yet they say," -the landlord went on, casting a venomous glance at Bevill, "your -country will not triumph over us long. Malbrouck is coming, forty -thousand more English soldiers are coming; so, too, are the soldiers -of every Protestant country in Europe Then, look out for yourselves, -my French friends." - -"So you love the English?" - -"We love those who pull us out of the mire. And they have been our -allies for years." - -For a moment after hearing these words Bevill stood regarding this man -while pondering deeply; then, making up his mind at once, he said: - -"If I told you that at this present time that young English officer -who ran Sparmann through--this renegade countryman of yours, this -_espion_, this spy of the French, _your conquerors_--stands in -imminent deadly danger in Antwerp--here, here, in your own city--would -you help and succour him? Would you strive to save him--from Sparmann, -the spy?" - -"What!" the landlord exclaimed, his fishlike eyes extending as he -stared at Bracton. "What!" while in a lower tone he repeated to -himself the words Sparmann had uttered a quarter of an hour ago: -"There was no secretary named Andre de Belleville at the French -Embassy. 'The statement is false.'" - -"Aye," replied Bevill Bracton, hearing his muttered words, and -understanding them too, since he had learnt some Dutch when in Holland -under King William. "Aye, the statement is false, but his is true. -There was no secretary of that name. The passport was procured to help -that young officer to reach Liege and assist a countrywoman. Also, if -the day should haply come, to assist, to join Protestant Holland -against Catholic France and Spain." - -"And," the man said, still staring at him, "you are he? You are an -Englishman--a Protestant?" - -"I am, God be praised. I trust in you. It is in your power to help me -to escape, or you can give me up to the Lieutenant. It is in your -power to enable me to quit Antwerp ere the alarm is given at the -gates. If it be already given, my chance is gone! You hate France; you -look to England for rescue and preservation. Speak. What will you do?" - -"The spy saw," the landlord said, still muttering to himself, "that -you had bought the black horse. Therefore you cannot ride that, though -it is the best. But in my stable is a bay----" - -"Ah!" - -"A bay! _Ja wohl_, a bay! Tricky, ill-tempered, but swift as the wind. -Once outside the city----" - -"Heaven above bless you!" - -"----You are safe. You speak French like a Frenchman. You have passed -before as one, it seems; you can do so again. The bay belonged to a -mousquetaire who died here of a fever when first the accursed French -seized on the city. I would not give it up since his bill was large." - -"One thing only! My passport will betray, ruin me." - -"_Nein_. I have the mousquetaire's papers; his French pass. He was a -captain named Le Blond. With those, and with that thing off your -head," nodding at the peruke Bevill wore, "you will surely pass the -gate. But you must be quick. Quick! Time is money, as you English say. -With you it may be more. It may be life or death." - -Even as the landlord spoke Bevill had torn off his wig and shaken out -his own dark hair, after which the former said: - -"I will go get the papers. Then will I saddle the bay myself. She is -in the stable in the back of the garden. You can pass out that way and -through a back street. If you have luck, you are saved. If not----" - -"I _shall_ be saved. I know it--feel it. But you--you--he warned you -of what might befall----" - -"Bah! You will have escaped unknown to me. For proof, I can show that -you even left the black horse behind in your haste. How shall they -know that I gave you another in its place?" And the landlord left his -bureau and ran up the stairs, saying he would be back with the papers -of Captain Le Blond ere many moments had passed. - -Thus it was that the supposed captain of mousquetaires escaped the -first peril he encountered on the road towards Liege, towards -assisting Sylvia Thorne to quit that city. He had escaped, yet he had -done so by means that were abhorrent to him--by a false passport, the -papers of a man now in his grave. He who--Heaven pardon him!--could he -have had matters as he desired, would have ridden boldly and openly to -every barrier, have faced every soldier of the enemy, and, announcing -himself as what he was, have got through or finished his mission -almost ere it was begun. - -Yet that escape was indeed perilous, and, though Bevill Bracton knew -it not, he had, even with the aid of the landlord, only missed -discovery by a hair's breadth. - -For, but a quarter of an hour before he rode towards the city barrier, -the guard had been changed; a troop of the Regiment d'Orleans had -relieved a troop of the Mousquetaires Gris. Had Bevill, therefore, -arrived before this took place, he would at once have been discovered -and his fate sealed, since all would have known that le Capitaine Le -Blond had been dead for months. But with the men of the Regiment -d'Orleans it was different, since they had but marched in a week or so -before, and probably--though it need by no means have been so--knew -not the name or appearance of the officers of the mousquetaires. - - -[Illustration: "'Would you strive to save him--from Sparmann, the -spy?'"] - - -Bevill soon learnt, however, that Sparmann had wasted no time. Had he -not acquired those papers, his undertaking must have ended here. The -sergeant at the barrier, who came forward to inspect the paper he -presented, carried in his hand another, which he read as Bevill rode -up; and the latter divined, by the swift glance the trooper cast at -his horse, and divined it with a feeling of actual certainty, that on -that paper was a description of the black horse and his own -appearance. But the horse was not the same, the peruke was wanting, -and his riding cloak hid all that was beneath. Consequently, with a -muttered "_Bon voyage_, M. le capitaine," and a salute, the sergeant -stood back as Bevill rode through on the bay mare, who justified the -character her recent owner had given her by lashing out with her hind -legs and prancing from one side of the road to the other in her -endeavour to unseat her rider. Soon finding, however, that she had her -master on her back, she settled down into a swinging stride and bore -him swiftly along the great, white east road. - -And now he was in Louvain, after having passed by numberless -implements of warfare collected by the roadside and watched over by -French soldiery, as well as having passed also two French regiments -marching swiftly towards Antwerp, there to reinforce the garrison, -since, as war was declared, none knew how soon the forces of the -redoubtable Marlborough, or Malbrouck, as they called him, might -appear. - -He was in Louvain, riding up an old, quiet street full of Spanish -houses with pointed roofs that almost touched those of the opposite -side, and allowed only a glimpse of the roseate hue of the early -summer sunset to be seen between them. And soon, following the -directions given him by the soldier at the gate, he reached the -hostelry "Le Duc de Brabant," a house that looked almost as old as -Time itself. One that, to each of its numerous windows, had huge -projecting balconies of dark discoloured stone, of which the house -itself was composed; an old, dark mansion, on whose walls were painted -innumerable frescoes, most of which represented sacred subjects but -some of which also depicted arrogantly the great deeds and triumphs of -the Dukes of Brabant. A house having, too, a huge pointed gateway, the -summit of which extended higher than the top of the windows of the -first floor, and down one side of which there trailed a coiled rope -carved in the stone, while, on the other side, was carved in the same -way an axe, a block, and a miniature gibbet. - -"Ominous signs for those who enter here," Bevill thought to himself, -while the mare's hoofs clattered on the cobblestones as he rode under -the archway. "Ominous once in far-off days for those who entered here, -if this was some hall of justice, or the residence of their, -doubtless, tyrannical rulers. Yet will I not believe that they are -ominous for me. I have no superstitions, and, I thank Heaven devoutly, -I have no fear. Yet," he muttered to himself as he prepared to -dismount, "I would I had not to resort to so many subterfuges. Rather -would I be passing for what I should be--a soldier belonging to those -who have sworn to break down the power of this great ambitious king, -this champion of the bigotry that we despise." Then, in an easier vein -he added, as though to console himself, "No matter! What I do I do to -help, perhaps to save, a helpless woman; to reinstate myself in the -calling I love, the calling from which I was unjustly cast forth. -And," he concluded, as he cast the reins to the servitors who had run -into the courtyard at the clatter made by the mare's hoofs, "it is war -time, and so--_a la guerre, comme a la guerre!_" - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -As Bevill dismounted in the great courtyard, and, addressing a man who -was evidently the innkeeper, told him that he desired accommodation -for the night, he recognised that, whatever might be the inferiority -of this house to its rival, "L'Ours," it had at least some traveller, -or travellers, of importance staying in it. - -In one corner of the yard, round which ran a railed platform level -with the ground floor and having four openings with steps leading up -to that floor, there stood, horseless now, a large travelling coach, -of the kind which, later, came to be called a _berline_. This -construction was a massive one, since inside it were to be seen not -only the front and back seats--the latter so deep and vast that one -person might have made a bed of it by lying crosswise--but also a -small table, which was firmly fixed into the floor in the middle of -the vehicle. The body of the coach was slung on to huge leathern -braces, which also served as springs, and was a considerable height -from the ground--so high, indeed, that the steps outside the doors -were four in number, though, when the vehicle was in progress, they -were folded into one. On the panels were a count's coronet, a -coat-of-arms beneath it, and above it the word and letter "De V." On -the roof, and fitted into the grooves constructed for them, were some -travelling boxes of black leather, with others piled on top of them. -For the rest, there were on each side of the coach, in front, and at -the back, long receptacles for musketoons as well as another for a -horn, the weapons and instrument being visible. - -"A fine carriage," Bevill said to the landlord, who seemed equally as -surly and ungracious, if not more so, than the man at Antwerp had been -while he supposed that the traveller was a Frenchman. "Some great -personage, I should suppose." - -"A compatriot of yours," the man said. "_Mein Gott!_ Who travels thus -in our land but your countrymen--and women? Yet," he added still more -morosely, "it may not be ever thus." - -Ignoring this remark, which naturally did not arouse Bevill's ire, -since he imagined that the state of things the man suggested might -most probably come to pass, he exclaimed: - -"And women, you say? _Pardie!_ Are ladies travelling about during such -times as these, when war is in the air?" - -"Aye, war is in the air," the landlord said, ignoring the first part -of the other's remark. "In the air, and more than in the air. Soon it -will be in the land and on the sea." After which, a waiting woman -having arrived to conduct Bevill to his room, and a stableman having -led the horse to a stall, the man turned away. Yet, as he went, he -muttered, "Then we shall see. England and Holland are stronger than -France on the sea, and on the land they are as good as France." - -It was no part of Bevill's to assume indignation, even if he could -have done so successfully, at these contemptuous remarks about his -supposed country and countrymen; therefore he followed the woman to -the room to which she led him. On this occasion, doubtless because he -possessed a horse, and that horse was at the present moment in the -landlord's custody, no demand was made for payment in advance. - -"And now," he said to himself, "a supper, the purchase of a few -necessaries in this town, and to bed. To-morrow I must be off and away -again. The sooner I am in Liege the better." - -In the old streets of that old city, Bevill found a shop in which he -was able to provide himself with the few requisites that travellers -carried with them in such distracted times. Amongst the accoutrements -of the late Captain Le Blond's charger was his wallet-haversack for -fastening behind the cantle, or in front of the pommel; but it -required filling, and this was soon done. A change of linen was easily -procured, which, with a comb, generally completed a horseman's outfit, -and then Bevill set out on his return to "Le Duc de Brabant." But as -he passed along the street he came across an armourer's shop, and, -glancing into it, was thereby reminded that he was without pistols. - -"And," he thought to himself, "good as my blade is, a firearm is no -bad accessory to a sword. It may chance, and well it may, that ere I -reach Liege, as in God's grace I hope to do, I may have need of such a -thing. So be it. Cousin Mordaunt has well replenished my purse; I will -enter and see if the armourer has any such toys." - -Suiting the action to the thought, Bevill entered the shop, and, -seeing an elderly man engaged on polishing up a breastplate, asked him -if he had any pistols to dispose of. - -"_Ja!_" the man replied. "And some good ones, too. Only they are dear. -Also the mynheer may not like them. Most of them were taken from the -French after Namur, and sold to me by an English soldier." - -"Bah! What matters how I come by them so that 'tis honestly, and that -they will serve their purpose? Produce them." - -Upon this the armourer dragged forth a drawer in which were several -weapons of the kind, some lying loose and some folded in the leather -or buckskin wrappings in which the man had enveloped them. At first, -those which met Bevill's eyes did not commend themselves much to him; -some were too old, some too clumsy, and some too rusty. - -"Mynheer is difficult to please," the armourer remarked with a grunt; -"perhaps these will suit him better. Only they are dear," while, as he -spoke, he unfolded two of the buckskin wrappers and exhibited a pair -of pistols of a totally different nature from the others. These -weapons were indeed handsome ones, well mounted on ivory and with -long, unbrowned barrels worked with filigree. The triggers sprang -easily back and fell equally as easily to the light touch of a finger, -the flints flashing sparks bravely as they did so. On one was engraved -"_Dernier espoir_," on the other "_Mon meilleur ami_." - -"How much for these?" Bevill asked, looking at the armourer. - -"Two pistoles, with powder flask and bullet-box. Also the flask well -filled and two score balls." - -"So be it. They are mine." And Bevill dropped one into each of the -great pockets of his riding-coat. "Now for the flask and bullets." - -"With these," he said to himself, as he walked back to the inn, "my -sword, and the swift heels of the mare, I can give a good account of -myself if danger threatens." - -The supper for the guests was prepared when he reached "Le Duc de -Brabant," and Bevill, taking his place at the table, glanced round to -see who his fellow-travellers might be, yet soon observed that, for -the present at least, there were none. - -"So," he thought to himself, "the fellow at the gate spoke truly. 'Tis -very apparent that 'The Duke' is not in such high favour as his rival, -'The Bear.' However, the eating proves the pudding and the drinking -proves the wine. Let us see to it." - -Whereupon he bade the drawer bring him a flask of good -Coindrieux--the list of wines hanging on a wall so that all the guests -might see and read. Then, ere the wine came, Bevill commenced to -attack the course set before him, though before he had eaten two -mouthfuls an interruption occurred. - -Preceded by a servitor, whom Bevill supposed--and supposed truly, as -he eventually knew--to be a private servant and not one attached to -the inn, a lady came down the room towards the table at which the -Englishman sat: a lady still young, of about thirty years of age, -tall, and delicate-looking. Also she was extremely well favoured, her -blue-grey eyes being shielded by long dark lashes, and her features -refined and well cut. As for her hair, Bevill, who on her approach had -risen from his seat and bowed gravely, and then remained standing till -she was seated, could form no opinion, since it was disguised by her -wig. But he observed that she was clad all in black, even to her lace; -while, thrown over her wig, was the small coif, or hood, which widows -wore. Therefore he understood the solemnity of her attire--a solemnity -still more enhanced and typified by the look of sadness which her face -wore. - - -[Illustration: "He had hastened to the door to hold it open for -her."--_p_. 122.] - - -This lady, who had returned Bevill's courtesy by a slight inclination -of her head, was now served by the elderly manservant, who took the -dishes from the ordinary inn server, and, placing each before her who -was undoubtedly his mistress, then retired behind her chair until the -next dish was ready. But, as would indeed have been contrary to all -etiquette, neither Bevill nor the lady addressed a word to the other. - -When, however, the drawer returned with the flask of Coindrieux, and -Bevill spoke some word to the man on the subject of not filling his -glass too full, he observed for one moment that the lady lifted her -eyes and looked at him somewhat curiously, and as though some tone or -intonation of his had attracted her attention. A moment later her eyes -were dropped to her plate again, though more than once during the -serving of the next dish he observed that she was again regarding him. - -"Has my accent betrayed me?" Bevill mused. "When I spoke to the man, -did she recognise that I am no Frenchman? Has my tongue grown rusty?" - -Yet, even as he so pondered, he told himself that there was no reason -that such should be the case. The lady might herself be no -Frenchwoman, but, instead, one belonging to this war-worn land. - -"She may not be capable of judging who or what I am," he reflected. - -Yet in another moment he had learnt that her powers of judging whether -he was a Frenchman or not were undoubtedly sufficient. - -In a voice, an accent, which no other than a Frenchman or Frenchwoman -ever possessed, an intonation which none but those who had learnt to -lisp that language at their mother's knee could have acquired, the -lady spoke now to her elderly servant, saying: - -"Ambroise, retire, and bid Jeanne prepare the valises. I have resolved -to go forward an hour after dawn." - -The manservant bowed, then said: - -"But the supper, Madame la Comtesse? Who shall serve, madame? The -remainder is not----" - -"The server will do very well. Go and commence to assist Jeanne." - -"Madame la Comtesse," Bevill thought to himself when the man had -departed. "So this is doubtless the owner of the grand coach. And she -is a Frenchwoman. It may well be that she understands I am no -countryman of hers, though I know not, in solemn truth, why she should -suppose I pretend to be one--unless the landlord or servants have told -her, or she has looked in the register of guests." For here, as -everywhere, all travellers had to give their names to the landlords, -and Bevill was now registered as "Le Capitaine Le Blond, of the -Mousquetaires Gris." - -The supper went on still in silence, however, and the server attended -both to the lady who had been styled "La Comtesse" and to Bevill. But -he was nothing more than a raw Flemish boor, little accustomed to -waiting on ladies and gentlemen, and gave Bevill the idea that he was -not occupied in his usual vocations. Once he dropped a dish with such a -clatter that the lady started, and once he handed another to Bevill -before offering it to the countess. - -"Serve madame!" Bevill said sternly, looking at the hobbledehoy and -covering him with confusion, while, as he did so, the lady lifted her -eyes to him and bowed stiffly, though graciously. Then, as if feeling -it necessary that some word of acknowledgment, some small token of his -civility, should be testified, the lady said: - -"Monsieur is extremely polite. He is doubtless not native here?" - -"No, madame. I am a stranger passing through the land on my way -towards the Rhine," while, as Bevill spoke, he was glad that, in this -case, there was no need for deception, since Liege was truly on the -road towards the Rhine. - -"As am I. I set out to-morrow for Liege." - -"For Liege? Madame will scarcely find that town a pleasant place of -sojourn. Yet I do forget--madame is French." - -"As is monsieur," the Countess said, with a swift glance at her -companion, speaking more as though stating a fact than asking a -question. - -Bevill shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly, but as much as good -breeding would allow. Then he said: - -"Monsieur de Boufflers commands there. Madame will be at perfect -ease." - -"Doubtless," the other said, with a slight shrug on her part now. -"Doubtless. Yet," and again she shrugged her shoulders, "war is -declared. The English and the Dutch will soon be near these barrier -towns. They say that the Earl of Marlborough will come himself in -person, that he will command all the armies directed against us. Would -it be possible that monsieur should know--that he might by chance have -heard--when the Earl will be in this neighbourhood?" - -"I know nothing, madame," Bevill replied, while as he did so two -thoughts forced themselves into his mind. One was that this lady had -discovered easily enough that he was no Frenchman; the other, that she -was endeavouring to extract some of the forthcoming movements of the -enemy--the enemy of France--from him. - -"What is she?" he mused to himself when the conversation had ceased, -or, at least, come to a pause. "What? Some spy passing through the -land and endeavouring to discover what the English plans may be; some -woman who, under an appearance of calm and haughty dignity, seeks for -information which she may convey to de Boufflers or Tallard. Yet--how -to believe it! Spies look not as she looks; their eyes do not glance -into the eyes of those they seek to entrap as hers look into mine when -she speaks. It is hard to credit that she should be one, and yet--she -is on her road to Liege--Liege that, at present, is in the grasp of -France, as so much of all Flanders is now." - -Suddenly, however, as still these reflections held the mind of Bevill -Bracton, there came another, which seemed to furnish the solution of -who and what this self-contained, well-bred woman might chance to be. - -"There are," he reflected, "there must be, innumerable officers of -high rank at Liege under Marshal de Boufflers; it may be that it is to -one of these she goes. Not a husband, since she is widowed; nor a son, -since, at her age, that is impossible; but a father, a brother. Heaven -only grant that, if she and I both reach that city safely, she may not -unfold her doubts of what I am. For doubt me she does, though it may -be that she does not suppose I am an Englishman. If she should do so, -'twill be bad for Sylvia Thorne and doubly bad for me." - -As Bevill reached this stage in his musings, the Countess rose from -the table, and, when he had risen also and hastened o the door to hold -it open for her, passed through, after acknowledging his attention and -also his politely expressed hope that her journey to Liege would be -easily made. - -After which, as he still stood at the door until she should have -passed the turn made by the great stone staircase, Bevill observed -this lady look round at him, though not doing so either curiously or -coquettishly. Instead, it appeared to the young man standing there -deferentially that the look on her face seemed to testify more of -bewilderment, of doubt, than aught else. - -"So be it," he said to himself, as now he returned to the room in -which they had dined, and proceeded to adjust his sword-sash, which, -with the sword itself, had been removed before the meal, and would, in -any case, have been at once removed by him from his side on a lady -taking her seat at the table. "So be it. Forewarned is forearmed. She -misdoubts and mistrusts me. If we should meet again--as meet we surely -shall, since we travel the same road and go to the same place--I must -be on my guard. Yet, pity 'tis, if she should be a spy. Aye! if she -should be. If she should be! Almost it is beyond belief." - -He went now towards the stables, to which he had seen the mare led -when he arrived. For Bevill had been a good soldier once, and hoped -that the day was not far off when he would be so again, and, above all -else, travellers such as he was at this time looked to the care and -comfort of their beasts. Also, in his ride from Antwerp, he had come -to like this tetchy, wayward creature, which, when her tantrums were -over, had borne him so well and swiftly on his road. Therefore he went -towards her stall now, and noticed that she looked at him over the -board of the division and whinnied as she recognised him, while -rubbing her soft muzzle against his arm as he stroked and petted her, -and, in doing this, he forgot the woman over whom, but a moment -before, his mind had been so much exercised. - -The woman who, as she had passed up the great stone-carved staircase, -had said to herself: - -"Who--what is he? Not a countryman of mine, well as he speaks our -tongue--aye, marvellously well--and courteous as he is. And neither a -Flemish nor a German boor. Is he an Englishman--is he--is he? Ah! if -he were only that! Oh! if he were--he who will be in Liege as soon as -I--he who will be there when the English forces draw near, as they -will surely do." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -That night Bevill Bracton slept well, and as he had not slept since he -first went on board _Le Grand Roi_ at Harwich two days ago. For the -vessel had been full of persons, and especially children, who suffered -from the sea; the passage had been rough and, consequently, noisy; -while, although the wind was favourable for reaching the Dutch coast, -it had rendered sleep impossible. - -But this night had made amends for all, and Bevill Bracton, springing -out of bed as he heard the clock of St. Peter's striking seven, -prepared to make himself ready for the day's journey. Overnight, -before he had sought sleep, he had thanked Heaven devoutly for having -allowed him to penetrate so far as even this old city of Louvain, and -into what was, in truth, the enemy's country--by seizure, though not -by right. Now once more he prayed that, as he had been thus far -favoured, so he might still be. - -One thing he observed at once as he threw back the heavy shutters from -his windows, which looked down into the great courtyard. He saw that -the great travelling coach was gone. The Comtesse, whose title he had -learnt from the landlord ere he sought his bed overnight was De -Valorme, had departed with any following she might have other than the -ancient domestic he had seen at table, and the woman, Jeanne, of whom -they had spoken. - -"Yet," Bevill said to himself, "at the pace La Rose," as he had now -named the mare, "can travel as against the speed that heavy lumbering -coach can attain, I should pass her ere she has accomplished half the -distance to Liege--long before she has reached St. Trond, indeed. -And," for still there was in his mind a thought, a fear--engendered -doubtless by the dangers with which he must be now surrounded, and -would be doubly surrounded as he progressed farther, and when he had -entered Liege--that in this woman there might be hidden something that -would imperil his safety, "and if she is a spy, at least it is as well -I should be there before her. Let me waste no time therefore." - -He folded up his haversack and cloak, although, as he could see by the -courtyard, which was wet and had little pools of rain lying in the -hollows between the old, worn stones, it must have rained during the -night or early morning, although it was now a fair, sweet day. The -late May sun was shining down fiercely on the red roofs; a thrush was -singing blithely in its wicker cage as though rejoicing in the warmth -and light; one or two of the heavy, clownish domestics of the inn were -making an early meal of black bread and blacker beer at a table below -him; all nature smiled. - -He descended, therefore, carrying his haversack and cloak, and with -his recently purchased pistols thrust in his sash under his coat, -since no traveller left such weapons far from his hand when he slept -in strange houses, and, going once more to the _Speiseraum_, ordered -some breakfast. Then he went out to see that all was well with La -Rose. - -Half an hour later he was on the way to Liege, and was riding along -roads that passed through orchards which were now losing all their -pink and white blossoms as the fruit slowly developed on the trees. - -Because he was young and strong and healthy; because, too, he had -great hopes before him, he took a keen delight in all that was around -him--in the fresh morning air that he drew into his lungs in great -draughts, in the sight of the full-leaved, half blossom and half fruit -gardens and orchards, even in the brooks that had been cut by the -sides of those orchards in long past days, and through which the water -ran with a swishing sound--he was jocund. He felt how good it was to -live and to be passing through the land on such a morning as this, to -hear the birds singing and twittering, and to see the cattle already -seeking shade from the morning sun; to cry out "Good-morning" to the -peasants in the fields or "God be with you" to the old people sitting -outside their houses, their life's labour done. He felt thus because -he was young, and strong, and full of life; because, too, his blood -was stirred by the thought of the adventures which must surely lie -before him; because almost he felt as though he were some young -knight-errant of dead and long-forgotten centuries riding forth to -rescue a lady fair who, immured in some gloomy town or fortalice, -waited for him with longing, eager eyes. - -"And if the miniature does not belie sweet Sylvia Thorne," Bevill -murmured to himself as the mare cantered along the white roads which -the sun had now dried, "then no knight in armour ever rode in far-off -days to the assistance of woman more fair than she. As a child she was -winsome. I wonder if this stately woman, whose portrait I have gazed -on so of ten since my lord gave it into my charge, is winsome still? -Winsome--yes, it may well be so. But grave, almost austere, as those -eyes that look out at me whenever I gaze on the portrait proclaim; -stately in her bearing, almost cold. Well! Cold let her be. What -matters it to me? She is not the guerdon that I seek to win, but only -the means by which I shall win the guerdon I would have. Let me but do -my best, and all will be very well. Mistress Thorne may freeze me with -one glance from those calm eyes, and yet my lord Marlborough shall -warm me back to life with his approval." - -The day went on, the sun rose high in the cloudless sky, and, except -for the various halts which Bevill made under shady trees, or on the -cool side of old Lutheran churches and quaint Flemish houses, to rest -La Rose--and once to refresh himself--he had wasted no time. So that -he knew, not only by the sign-posts and the hamlets he had passed -through, but also by a _routier_, or chart of the district, which hung -in the dark hall of the "Duc de Brabant," that he must be nearing a -small town called St. Trond, a place that lay nearer to Liege than to -Louvain. - -"Madame de Valorme set out at six, the landlord told me," Bevill -reflected, "and I ere the clocks struck eight; I marvel much that I -have not come up with her coach yet. Her horses must travel faster -than I thought, or that coach be lighter than its appearance -warranted." - -Then, at this moment, there came an interruption to any further -meditations on his part. - -A shot rang out on the clear noontide air, one that caused the -nervous, excitable mare to swerve and spring across the road, almost -unseating Bevill; and then, while he recovered himself, to gallop -wildly along the white straight road bordered by pollard trees. - -"Gently, gently," Bevill exclaimed, as he endeavoured to soothe her, -while, since he was a finished horseman, he knew better than to -attempt to check her suddenly, but drew her up gradually. "Gently. -Though, 'fore Heaven, that sudden report was enough to startle one -less flighty than she. Whence," he mused, "did that shot proceed? To -my left, surely, and from a side road which I passed a moment ere the -report rang forth. Was," with a dark look on his face, "the ball -intended for me? Well, we will see to it." - -Whereupon, since now La Rose was, by the aid of much stroking of her -neck and patting and soothing, restored somewhat to calmness, Bevill -turned her head round in the direction they had come, and at last -persuaded her, though it was not easy to do, to retrace her steps to -the crossroads. - -Also, he opened the covers of his holsters and threw them back, so -that the butt of each of his new pistols should be ready to his hand. - -"I may be indebted for a favour to some marauder," he muttered, "and I -abhor debt. If I owe one, it shall be repaid in full." After which he -loosened his sword in its sheath, and so reached the crossroads. - -As he turned into it he saw nothing at first, unless it was the -ominous twitching of the mare's ears; but a moment later he heard a -voice, and that a woman's--a voice that exclaimed: - -"You cowardly dastards! You--you Flemish boors! To attack a woman--to -slay an old man!" - -"Great powers!" exclaimed Bevill to himself, as now a touch of his -knee sent La Rose forward swiftly, while at the same time he drew -forth the pistol from the right holster. "'To slay an old man.' And -that voice hers. Hers!" - -"French! French! French!" he heard several voices exclaim together in -the raucous, guttural, Low Frankish dialect of the district. "You are -all French Papists, servants of the great Papist King in Paris, of the -Italian Priest in Rome. We will not spare you. Or," one voice said, -"not your wealth, if we spare your lives. And he, this dead one, -should not have resisted us." - -Whatever the ruffians who thus spoke might have intended doing was -now, however, doomed to be frustrated. Bevill Bracton was amongst -them--a party of seven men, armed some with great horse pistols, one -or two with reaping hooks, and another with a rusty sword. In a moment -they were, however, scattered, the mare knocking down two as she -lashed out, while one received a bullet in the shoulder from Bevill, -and, falling to the ground, vowed that he was dead. - -But amidst the confusion, and while Bevill cried, "Stop, all of you. -He who attempts to fly shall be shot on the spot," he was able to see -at a glance what had happened. - -The coach--the driver had doubtless been misdirected, or the horses' -heads had not been turned down this side road--stood lower down the -lane than those who had occupied it. At the feet of the horses lay the -man who was undoubtedly the coachman; by his side knelt the Comtesse -de Valorme, looking up at the boors who had attacked the party. -Jeanne, her maid, an elderly woman, seemed to have fainted inside the -coach; while old Ambroise, who was weeping and shaking all over, stood -with a footman close by the side of his mistress. - -Now, as Bevill dismounted, Madame de Valorme, looking up at him, -exclaimed: - -"Ah! The Capitaine Le Blond. Heaven be praised!" - - -[Illustration: "By his side knelt the Comtesse."] - - -But Bevill had no time to be startled at hearing himself addressed -thus, nor to speculate as to whether the Comtesse had discovered his -assumed name from the landlord, or had herself searched for it in the -register. His attention was otherwise needed. - -"You brute dogs!" he exclaimed in the best Dutch he could muster. "So -'tis thus war begins with you--by attacks on women and old men." -While, as he spoke, he thrust his discharged pistol back into the -right holster and drew out that in the left. - -"We are starving," one man said. "You--you--French trample us down, -take all--you, who are as bad as the Spaniards were. We retaliate when -we can." - -"Is there a rope?" Bevill asked, looking down from his seat on the -horse and addressing Ambroise and the younger man, the footman. "One -used in the coach? If so, fetch it." - -"A rope!" the men howled now, while two of them flung themselves on -their knees and whined and screamed for mercy. "A rope! Spare -us--spare us! We have taken nothing." - -"Except a life," Bevill exclaimed, glancing at the body of the -coachman. - -Meanwhile, the footman had mounted the box of the coach and was busily -engaged in uncording the valises piled up on top of it. But while he -did so the Comtesse de Valorme had risen to her feet and had held out -her hand to Bevill, which he, after dismounting, took in his. - -"How shall a helpless woman, travelling with only serving men in -attendance on her, thank one who is strong and brave enough to rescue -her?" madame asked. "How? Ah! monsieur----" - -"Madame in Comtesse." Bevill replied, "I have but done that which -every man would do for a woman. I beseech you say no more." - -"It may be that at Liege," the Comtesse continued (and Bevill could not -but observe how, as she spoke, her blue eyes looked into his as though -endeavouring to read, to decipher, what impression her words might -make on him), "at Liege I can return----" - -"Madame!" - -"----Some of your chivalrous service. Even though proffered to a -French officer," and now those eyes shone like sapphires, "in -safety--in--a French garrison, a woman's assistance may be worth -acceptance." - -"She knows me for what I am," Bevill thought; "or, rather, for what I -am not. And she will not betray me." - -The few words that had been exchanged between him and the Comtesse de -Valorme were uttered in low tones, though, even had they been spoken -clearly, it is doubtful if the boors who were trembling close by them -would have heard, or, in hearing, have understood. For now their -courage, their Dutch courage, had left them; they deemed their fate at -hand, since, armed as this man was and with a horse on which to pursue -them, flight would have been vain. - -At this moment their fears were at their height; their whimpers were -turned into shrieks and supplications. The footman had descended, -bearing in his hand a rope some ten or twelve feet long; while, as the -man who had shot one of them and, in a moment, terrified the rest into -abject fear, took it in his own hands, they saw that his eyes were -directed towards an elm that grew by the side of the road. - -"In mercy's sake," the Comtesse whispered, since she, too, saw -Bevill's glance, "in the name of Him Who forgives all sinners, proceed -to no extremities. And--and--Joseph, my coachman, is not truly dead. -The ball has but grazed his face and stunned him. Monsieur, I beseech -you--nay, I----" - -"Madame," Bevill replied, turning his back to the men who were, in -absolute fact, his prisoners, "I had no thought of executing them. But -still punishment is their meed. Therefore, I will have them bound to -that tree and, at the next village or town--it should be one called -St. Trond--there may be some Prevot-Marechal or Captain of -Marechaussee to whom we can denounce them. The French, our troops----" - -"Yes. Our troops?" with another swift glance. - -"Are all about. The line stretches from Antwerp to Cologne, and across -the Rhine. Into their hands shall these ruffians be delivered. They -shall be the instruments of justice." - -Half an hour after this decision had been come to the coach of the -Comtesse de Valorme was on its way once more; but now it was driven by -the young footman, at whose side Ambroise sat. Outside was Joseph -also, who had recovered from the shock he had received, and was now -engaged in thanking Heaven for the narrow escape that had been -vouchsafed to him, and in calling down blessings on the Comtesse and -Jeanne (on whose shoulder his head rested) and Bevill indiscriminately. - -Sometimes ahead of the great travelling carriage, and -sometimes--though not often--by the side of the open window, where -Madame sat, Bevill Bracton rode now as escort. But, as he did so, -while keeping ever a vigilant look-out to right and left and in front -of him--for he knew not if other groups similar to those who were now, -with the exception of the man wounded by him, all tied firmly and back -to back to the elm tree, might be about--his thoughts did not dwell on -the rescue he had by chance effected, but on the woman he had -preserved from outrage and insult. Also, they dwelt on what must be -the state of that woman's mind at this time. - -"For she is French, and I am a subject of her country's bitterest -foe--and she knows it. Or, not knowing, still suspects. And yet--and -yet--if I mistake her not, if I have read her aright, I have rendered -her harmless. Likewise, she is a good woman. She pleaded for mercy for -those vagabonds, not knowing that there was no need for pleading, -since I am no hangman; she spoke of Him Who pardons all sinners. 'Tis -not of such stuff as this that spies, denouncers, women who rend the -hand that is held out to them, are made. Yet, knowing all, she must be -torn with vastly conflicting feelings. How shall she reconcile herself -to befriending one who is of those who would render her ambitious, -evil King harmless? How shall she, a Frenchwoman, bring herself to be -the ally of an Englishman?" - -But still, even as Bevill mused, he knew that he and his secret, or as -much as she knew or could guess of it, were safe in this woman's -hands. - -A moment later, he had certain proof that he had divined aright. - -They were drawing near St. Trond now; ahead of them they could see the -smoke curling up in the afternoon air, and they could also see the men -lounging at the barrier through which admission was gained to the -town. - -"We shall be there," the Comtesse said to Bevill, who was at this time -riding by the window of the coach, while directing her glance to the -little place, "ere many moments are passed. Monsieur," and she put her -gloved hand upon the sash and leant forward towards him, "those men -will have suffered enough by the time they are released from that -tree. I ask you not to call the attention of any Prevot or officer of -Marechaussee to their being there, or to their attack on me." - -"Madame is truly of a forgiving nature. Yet, since it is her concern, -not mine----" - -"It would be best, even though, unhappily, forgiveness plays no part -in my desire. Questions might be asked, explanations required; nay," -and once more the deep blue eyes looked full into Bevill's, "some of -monsieur's brother mousquetaires may be here." And now those eyes -looked strangely; almost it seemed as though they conveyed a menace. -Yet, Bevill asked himself, even as a chill seemed to strike to his -heart, as icy fingers seemed to clutch at it, could this woman be -false; a traitress to one who had helped and succoured her? Was she no -better than a female Sparmann? - -"She spoke," he said to himself, "of Him Who pardons all sinners; she -besought mercy for those who had molested her. Can such as she be a -spy? I will never believe it." - -Then, suddenly gazing down at her--and now the intensity of his glance -equalled her own, while he saw she did not blench beneath it--he said, -not roughly, yet determinately: - -"Have done with equivocations, madame, with pointed words," -remembering the accentuation of those words "monsieur's brother -mousquetaires." "Speak plainly. Truth, openness, are ever best." - -"If," the Comtesse said now, though still all was not open, her -meaning not altogether apparent, "if you are what I believe--nay, what -I know you to be--and you are discovered, your life is in awful -danger. If you reach Liege you will, if betrayed, never quit it -alive." - -"Who shall betray me to my death? Answer me. Since you have told so -much, tell more. What is it you know, and who and what are you?" - -"A woman," the Comtesse answered. "One who does not betray gallant men -to their deaths." - -"This death you speak of is certain?" - -"Certain. Beyond all doubt. For you are----" - -"What?" - -"Listen. Bend down from your horse. Not even they," with a glance -above to where the servants were, "must hear." - -"Great Heaven!" Bevill exclaimed when he had done so and she had -whispered in his ear. - -For the words she had thus whispered were: "You are an Englishman, and -your name is not Le Blond. Have I not said truly? If you are -discovered your doom is certain." - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -The names of some of its past rulers as well as Spanish governors have -stamped themselves deeply over all Brabant; and scarcely was there an -inn or wayside hostelry to be found in the towns and villages -surrounding the old capital of Brussels that did not bear for sign -either that of "La Duchesse de Parma," "Le Duc de Brabant," "Le Comte -d'Egmont," or, greater still, "Le Prince d'Orange," it being William -the Silent, the great Liberator, to whom reference was made. - -These names constituted a strange mixture, and combined to form a -strange gallery of reminiscences. The first recalled a stately woman -of high lineage on one side and base origin on the other. She was the -daughter of Charles Quint, of "_Charles qui triche_,"[2] and the -sister of Philip, the thousandfold murderer--a woman fierce as the -she-wolf when robbed of its whelps, yet often merciful; one who, to -her eternal glory, despised that other murderer, that persecutor of -all of the Reformed Faith, the Duke of Alva, and kept him in his -place, while sometimes forcing even him to cease from shedding the -blood of the innocent. The second recorded those rulers of Brabant, -among whose numbers had been produced holy men and scoffers, poets and -tyrants; _jongleurs_ and minstrels and buffoons; knights as brave as -ever Bayard was, and cowards who shuddered and whimpered in their -innumerable palaces if but a few of their subjects muttered in the -streets or congregated in small knots at the street corners. The third -perpetuated the name of Lamoral d'Egmont, brave, bold, and vain; one -who had been shipwrecked in corners of the world that had then been -hardly heard of; who had fought for the new faith like a lion, yet had -almost dreaded death, but had, nevertheless, died like a hero and a -martyr at the headsman's hands in the great square of Brussels. The -fourth was he who crushed Philip II. and Spain and all their myrmidons -under his heel, who established for ever the Reformed Faith as the -recognised national religion from the German Ocean to the Ural -Mountains, and who perished at the hand of an assassin bribed by -Philip to do the deed. - -In St. Trond, where the Comtesse de Valorme had decided to rest for -the night, it was the same as at Louvain, Brussels, and all other -places. Those names were still perpetuated over the doors of the inn; -the lineaments of their bearers swung in the breeze or were painted on -the walls. - -"Another 'Duc de Brabant,'" the Comtesse said to Bevill, as now the -coach passed an inn of this name. It was the first they came to, and -the landlord, running out bareheaded, begged of Madame to honour his -house. - -"Well, so be it. It is to the former one that I owe my meeting with a -gallant defender. I will rest here. And Monsieur Le Blond--where does -he purpose sojourning for the night?" - -Perceiving that there was probably in this question some feeling of -delicacy on the part of Madame de Valorme, some sentiment of propriety -as to their not entering the town in company--they who, until those -whispered words of an hour ago, had been all but unknown to each -other--and of afterwards staying in company in the same inn, Bevill, -casting his eyes across the _place_, said: - -"There is another inn for travellers over there, and it is called 'Le -Prince d'Orange.' It has a quiet, peaceful air. It will do very well. -Also, since I have constituted myself the cavalier of Madame until -Liege is reached, I shall be near at hand to keep watch and ward." - -"Monsieur is very good. Farewell, monsieur. Goodnight. When," she -asked, as an afterthought, "does monsieur intend to set out?" - -"Early, madame. Even though 'tis but little distance to my -destination, yet I would fain be there and about the work I have to -do." - -"If," Madame de Valorme said now, after observing with one glance from -her clear eyes that her servants--who had now all descended and were -directing the porters of the inn what baggage was to be taken into -the house and what might be left on the top of the coach for the -night--were out of earshot--"if monsieur seeks for peace and repose in -Liege--though in truth it is not very like that such as he will -require any such things in a French garrison "--and her eyes were on -Bevill, while almost seeming to smile at him and at the knowledge of -his secret, which he now knew she possessed--"I go to join some -kindred whose house will be open to him. Monsieur has been a gallant -chevalier to me----" - -"I beseech madame to forget any foolish, trifling service I have -rendered her by chance." - -"I shall not forget, and"--though now she paused, and said next a -word, and then paused again as though in hesitation and doubt, and -still, a moment later, went on again--"and it may be that all -service--all mutual service--is not yet at an end between us. If, as I -believe, there is some----" - -"Some what, madame?" - -"Nay; I will say no more. Or only this: I, too, go to Liege about a -work I have to do. A work"--and now she leant forward in the coach -from which she had naturally not yet descended, while continuing in a -low tone--"to which I am vowed, to which my life is vowed; a task in -which so long as I have life I will not falter. And I have a hope, a -belief, a supposition--call it what you will--that in you I may by -chance light on one who can help me at little cost to himself." - -"I protest, madame," Bevill almost stammered at hearing these words, -"I protest that----" - -"Listen, Monsieur le Blond," the Comtesse said, speaking so low that -now her voice was no more than a whisper, a murmur, yet a whisper so -clear that, by bending his head, the young man could catch every -syllable she uttered. "Listen. Yet, ere you do so, promise me that no -word I let fall, no thought I give utterance to, shall cause you -offence, or, if I may say it, fear?" - -"Fear? I fear nothing on this earth. While as for the rest, I -promise." - -"Enough." Then in, if it could be so, a yet lower tone, the Comtesse -de Valorme continued: - -"As I have said, you are not what you seem to be. You are not le -Capitaine le Blond for he was a kinsman of mine and I knew him well. -I--I--a Frenchwoman--ah! shame on me, good as my cause is--only hope -you may be----" - -"What?" - -"As faithful to my desire, my secret, when you learn it, as I will be -to yours. If so, then all will be well!" - -"What else can madame believe I shall be? Speak. I will answer -truthfully." - -"No; I have said enough--for to-night. Farewell. I, too, leave this -place early. Farewell, or rather adieu." And the Comtesse put out her -hand to Bevill. - -The landlord had been standing in the great stoop of his house while -this whispered colloquy had taken place; and now, while seeing with -extreme regret that the handsome, well-apparelled young horseman who -had escorted the lady in the coach to his door, was not himself going -to patronise him, he came forward to the carriage. Wherefore, as -Bevill turned the horse's head towards "Le Prince d'Orange" he -murmured respectfully, "Madame la Comtesse"--since the coronet on the -carriage, if not the servants' own words, had told him the personage -with whom he had to deal--"the necessaries have been taken to madame's -apartments. Will Madame la Comtesse please to enter?" - -Meanwhile, Bevill had ridden across to the rival place of -entertainment, had given La Rose into the charge of the stableman, and -had chosen a front room on the first floor of that rambling but -substantial house. - -"There is some strange mystery in this woman," he mused, as he stood -on the balcony to which the window of the room gave access, and gazed -across to the opposite inn. "Something that passes comprehension. -Still, no matter, since there is also a mystery about me. And she -knows it; she informs me she knows it, and yet proffers me help and -assistance. Whatever else she is, she is at least no traitor to the -man who has rendered her some light, trifling service. I am here; she -is across the _place_. If in the night aught of evil should befall -her--and in this disturbed land troubles may well come--I am near her. -We are friends, auxiliaries, though enemies by race." - -But now, springing from out of these musings, there returned to -Bevill's mind the memory of one word that had risen to it; the -recollection that, in pondering over the mystery of the Comtesse de -Valorme, he had discarded from his thoughts the suggestion that she -could be a traitor of another description. - -"To me? No! Never! Perish the thought!" he exclaimed, as he stepped -back from the balcony and threw himself on an old couch by the window. -"No; but what if she be a traitor to her country, to France! By birth, -by blood, by all hereditary instincts we are foes, and yet she offers -me help and protection. Le Blond, the man under whose name I -masquerade, whose very horse I ride, was kinsman to her; yet she, -knowing what I am, makes offers of assistance. She a Frenchwoman and I -an Englishman! - -"She prayed," Bevill went on, "that I might be what she believes I am. -She asked earlier if I could give her information of my Lord -Marlborough's movements and plans. Great heavens! Does she desire to -betray her country into his hands?" Then, suddenly, he sprang from his -seat, exclaiming, "No, no! Never will I believe it! Never There is -some other cause that moves thig woman to act as she is doing. That is -the reason for her desire to reach Liege. It is not, cannot be, -treachery." - -The evening was at hand now--one of the soft calm evenings which, in -the Netherlands, in fine weather, are at times almost as soft and calm -as the nights of more southern lands; nights when here, through all -this marshy country, made fertile and rich by centuries of toil, the -fireflies dance in the dusk as in far off Italy; when the sun sinks a -globe of flame into the bosom of the German Ocean, and when as it does -so, the stars begin to stud the skies. - -Such a night, such a twilight as this was no time for indoors: and -Bevill, recognising that for two hours at least it would be folly to -seek his bed with any hope of sleeping, went forth after his supper to -take the air. Or rather, since his ride had given him sufficient of -that, to observe what might be doing in the little town. - -Of French troops he observed that there were few about, though some -men of the Regiment de Monsieur (the Duc d'Orleans) and some others of -the Artillery were drinking outside an inn while being regarded with -lowering looks by groups of the inhabitants. - -"French--French always!" he heard one man say to the other. "French -always and everywhere! When will the English or our own troops come?" - -"Have patience," another said. "Already, a month ago, even before the -war was declared, was not Kaiserswoerth besieged by the English general -Athlone? The city will soon fall now." - -"English? Dutch--our countryman--you should say. Is not the Lord -Athlone a Dutchman? Is he not Ginkell?" - -"What matters, so that one or the other does it? Soon Marlborough will -be here. Then we shall see." - -"Meanwhile, he is not here, and the French are; and they eat us out of -house and home, and do not pay too well." - -"They will pay with their skins ere long." - -But Bevill knew as much as this himself, so, continuing his walk, he -soon returned towards the inns in which, he on the one side the -_place_ and the Comtesse de Valorme on the other, they were to rest -for the night. But when on the _place_ he could not refrain from -letting his eyes wander to the "Duc de Brabant," while speculating -idly as to where his companion might be installed in it. - -He soon knew, however, since on the first floor of the house he -observed that the long wooden shutters were open, and the windows -thrown back, doubtless to admit the cool air of the coming night, -while he also saw that Jeanne passed once or twice before them. As he -did so he could not prevent his thoughts from turning once more to the -mystery in which the Comtesse seemed to be enveloped, or from -wondering again and again why she should testify such interest in him, -a stranger. - -Could he have gazed into one of those rooms in the "Duc de Brabant"; -could he have seen the Comtesse seated in a deep _fauteuil_ wrapped in -meditation; above all, could he have caught the occasional expressions -that fell from her lips; or, gazing into her mind, have probed her -innermost thoughts, he would have wondered no longer. - -"For fourteen years now," he would in such a case have heard her say, -or have gathered from the Comtesse de Valorme's thoughts, "we have -suffered and borne all from him--and from her who sits by his side. -From her, the scourge and curse of France, the snake that sucks the -life-blood from all who do not worship as she does. Oh! God," he would -have heard the undoubtedly unhappy woman exclaim, as she lifted her -eyes, "how long is it to be? How long for all of us? Fathers, mothers, -husbands, all--all--dead--done to death, either on the wheel or the -gallows, or in the galleys or the dungeons. And for what? Because we -desire to worship God in our own way--the way his grandsire promised -solemnly that we should worship: the way for following which this one -burns us, racks us, destroys our homes, drives us forth to exile and -beggary." - -Still gazing in at those open windows from the other side of the -_place_, while unable to see the woman on whom his thoughts rested, -Bevill did at last, however, discover that she was there. As he still -stood and meditated, her form came suddenly before his eyes and he -recognised that she must have suddenly sprung up from some chair or -couch; while, from her commencing to pace the room and by her almost -distracted appearance, he gathered that her mind was a prey to the -most agitating thoughts. Even then, however, he could not divine what -those thoughts might be, or that he was the central figure of them. -This was as impossible as it was for him to hear her say: - -"And now this man, who is, since he does not deny it, an Englishman; -this man, disguised as a French soldier, while, in sober truth, I do -believe him to be an English one, is on his way to Liege on some -secret mission. 'Some work he has to do,' as he avowed. What work? -What? Is he a spy of the English generals? Above all, can he help me? -Can he bring me to Marlborough, give me the opportunity I have so long -desired of throwing myself at his feet, of beseeching him to hurry -forward that invasion of the South which can alone save those of us -who are still alive? Can he? Can he? Oh, if I did but know!" - -Suddenly, as Bevill stood there gazing at the undoubtedly unhappy, -distracted woman there came the ripple of a cool evening breeze -through the heated air that the day had left behind. A light breeze -that shook the leaves of the orange trees in their tubs before the inn -doors, and also those of the pollards which grew round the _place_. A -moment later he saw Jeanne pull to the wooden shutters. Except for a -streak of light that issued from the air slits at the top of them, all -was now dark and veiled. - -"Poor lady!" Bevill said to himself, as now, in the same manner as he -had done overnight, and as he would do every night whenever he might -be on the road, or on any journey--and as, perhaps, he would do should -he and Sylvia Thorne be able to make their way out of Liege, in the -endeavour to fall in with any of the English or Dutch forces--he -directed his steps towards the stables of the "Prince d'Orange" to see -that all was well with his horse. - -Those stables were reached by passing down a small alley or _ruelle_ -that ran by the side of the "Prince d'Orange," and lay behind the -house, entrance being obtained by a turn to the right when the end of -the alley was attained. - -Finding an ostler, or horse-watcher, in this alley, Bevill requested -the man to accompany him to the door and unlock it; but, learning that -the stables were not yet closed and would not be for yet another hour, -and that there was a lanthorn hanging on the hook inside, he proceeded -alone. - -A moment later he pushed open the door and called to the mare, who by -now knew not only his voice, but the new name he had given her, and -learnt by her whimper that she had recognised his presence. - - -[Illustration: "'I, too, go to Liege about a work I have to -do.'"--_p_. 318.] - - -But as he advanced to see that all was well with her, he heard a -rustle in the straw of an empty stall close by the door, and the next -instant saw a man walk swiftly out of that stall and through the door -into the alley--a man whose cloak was thrown across his face and held -by his right hand, and whose slouching hat fell over the upper part of -it. Yet this attempted and almost successful disguise did not -altogether serve to cloak the whole of his features. His eyes, dark -and flashing, appeared above the edging of the cloak. Where his hand -held the folds together there protruded a wisp of grizzled beard. - -"Where have I seen those eyes, that beard before?" Bevill wondered, -while remembering a moment later. - -"It is Sparmann!" he said. "Sparmann! And he is following either the -Comtesse or me--or both." - -After which he went swiftly to the mare and made a rapid but thorough -inspection of her, thereby to discover if she was injured in any part; -and also looked to see if the fodder remained untampered with in the -manger; while, taking up next the half-emptied bucket, he threw the -water that remained in it away, and, going out into the alley, -refilled it. - -"I will stay here until the stables are locked for the night," he -said, approaching the horse-watcher. "I mistrust that fellow I saw -creep out from here but a moment ago." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -"This threatens danger," Bevill thought to himself after he had spoken -to the man in the alley, and had received from him a surly grunt and -the information that the other was, like himself, a traveller having -his own horse in another stall. But the ostler did not add the words -that Bevill had expected to hear--viz., that this traveller was, also -like himself, a Frenchman. He remembered, however, a moment later, -that though Sparmann was now undoubtedly a French spy, he was -absolutely as much a Dutchman as any native of St. Trond, and could, -consequently, pass easily as a man who was voyaging from one part of -the Netherlands to another. - -In recollecting this, there came suddenly into his mind a thought--an -inspiration--a reflection that, in such a circumstance lay the chance -of outwitting, of silencing--though only for a time, yet perhaps for -long enough--this fellow who, beyond almost all possibility of doubt, -was here with the view of causing harm to him. - -"He is a Hollander," Bevill thought to himself as he stood outside the -courtyard of "Le Prince d'Orange," while undecided as to whether he -should endeavour to see, or at least to communicate with, the -Comtesse. "A Hollander, yet one who is now in the service of France, -and, consequently, an enemy to all things Dutch. If--if--I denounced -him to-night to some of the burghers of this place, to some native -magistrate here, as he will endeavour to denounce me to some of the -French who hold the place, it will go hard with him. These Dutch may, -because they must at present, tolerate the French army, but they will -not tolerate a spy who is their own countryman amongst them. Yet how -to do it? Above all, how to do it at once? Let me reflect." - -As he so reflected, however, he was already crossing the _place_, and -in a moment was in front of the courtyard of "Le Duc de Brabant," -which, although it was similar to that of the inn where he had put up, -was nevertheless considerably larger than the latter. Halting, -however, under the archway that led into this yard, he saw the great -coach of Madame de Valorme standing out in the dark, and observed -that, from some of the lower windows of the inn, there still gleamed -the rays of a lamp or other light, as well as the beams from a -lanthorn hung on a hook outside the stable door. Thus the coach and -the baggage on the top of it stood clearly out, thin and weakly though -the rays of light might be, and by their aid he was able to perceive -other things. - -He saw that Joseph, the coachman, on account of whose ill-treatment by -the Brabant peasants that afternoon he had lodged a bullet in the -shoulder of one of them, was now strapping up a valise on the roof of -the coach; a valise that he divined easily had already been used this -evening and repacked and closed, and then sent down to be put in its -place in time for the morning's departure. Near the coachman, who now -seemed to be entirely recovered from his slight injury--which had been -only prevented by an inch from being a fatal one--there stood a -_facchin_, or porter of the inn, who had evidently brought down the -valise and was now going away to, in all probability, fetch another. - -"Joseph," Bevill said now to the man as he descended from the box on -which he had been standing while strapping the valise, "Joseph, come -down. I wish to speak to you on a matter of serious concern." - -Astonished at seeing beneath him the dashing horseman who, at a -critical moment for all concerned, had suddenly appeared amongst the -boors who had attacked his mistress's coach, and--which he did not -overlook--nearly killed him, Joseph sprang to the ground, while -doffing the hat he wore and instantly commencing a long series of -thanks and utterances of gratitude to Bevill, all of which he had -previously uttered many times during the continuation of the journey. - -"No matter for that," said Bevill, while looking round to see that -they were out of earshot, and remarking that the _facchin_ had -disappeared. "I need no more thanks, nor have needed any. But, -Joseph--your mistress? Where is she? If it may be so, if it can be -compassed, I must speak with her to-night." - -"To-night, monsieur? _Helas!_ it is impossible. She has retired; the -necessaries are all distributed there," glancing up at the roof of the -vehicle, "save one small chest that remains in the rooms for use in -the morning. It is impossible, monsieur," he repeated. "But," the man -went on, "if monsieur has anything to confide, if he requires any -service which one so humble as I can give, monsieur knows where he can -obtain it. Monsieur punished the ruffians who endeavoured to slay me. -If one so poor as I can----" - -"Nay, no matter; yet--yet--it is of grave import. There has happened -that which thrusts against my hopes of reaching Liege, of reaching -that city in company of--almost, may I say, in charge of Madame----" - -"What, monsieur, what?" the man exclaimed in a low voice. "Monsieur is -in some peril? And he, our preserver----" - -"Listen," Bevill` said, thinking it best to at once tell this man the -worst. "It may be that ere morning I shall no longer be able to -accompany Madame La Comtesse on her road." - -"Oh, monsieur!" Joseph exclaimed. "Oh, monsieur! Monsieur is indeed in -some peril. What is it, monsieur?" - -"There is a man now staying at the inn where I am, at 'Le Prince -d'Orange,' who knows a secret of mine which may undo me if divulged. -He is a Dutchman, yet now he serves France--our country--as the basest -of creatures. He is a spy, one employed by France. What's that?" -Bevill broke off to say, hearing a slight noise in the stable close -by. - -"I heard nothing, monsieur. Doubtless one of the horses moving. It is -nothing. Please go on, monsieur." - -"Yet also is he, as I say, an enemy of mine. He may denounce me as one -having sympathy with these Dutch, as one favourable to this Grand -Alliance. Ha!" Bevill exclaimed, breaking off again. "Look! Did'st? -see. That man who passed outside the entry but now, his cloak about -him! One with dark, piercing eyes and a flash of grey beard showing. -That is the man. I will follow him, prevent him, if possible, from -carrying out his intentions to-night." - -"And so also will I, monsieur. Let me but get my coat and whinyard, -and I will be with you. But an instant, monsieur. But an instant." - -"Nay," Bevill called, even as the man sped towards the great wooden -staircase that led out of the courtyard up to the balconies outside -the various floors; "nay, stay here, I command you. Stay here by your -mistress to whom your service is due. I need no assistance. It is man -to man, as," he muttered grimly through set teeth, "it was two years -ago in England." - -Then, seeing that Joseph had disappeared up the stairs, Bevill went -swiftly out of the courtyard and under the arch into the street. - -But he did not know that, as he did so, another man had followed in -his footsteps. - -A man who, almost ere he was outside the entrance, had softly pushed -open the stable door and then, after looking round stealthily to make -sure that he was not observed, had come out himself, while thrusting -into the folds of his coarse shirt something that gleamed for an -instant in the rays of the lanthorn. - -"What was it he said?" this man muttered to himself in a hoarse, -raucous voice. "What? I could not hear all--yet enough. A Dutchman! -One of us--who has joined these accursed French as a spy on us. On -us--_ach! Himmel!_ On us, his countrymen. Ha! Let me but find him, and -he spies no more in this world." - -And now this man was also in the _place_--the deserted place in which -glittered but one or two oil lamps hung on chains stretched across the -road, yet which was well lighted now by a late risen moon that was in -her third quarter--a moon that was topping now the pointed, -crenellated roofs of the old houses and flooding the whole space with -its beams. By this light the man saw that he was not yet too late. - - -[Illustration: "'He's mine,' the watcher whispered to himself."] - - -He saw the tall form of Bevill turning away from the door of "Le -Prince d'Orange," and understood that the man, who had in his hearing -denounced the other as a spy, had been to see if the latter had -entered the inn. He saw, too, by looking up the one long street that -led from the _place_, that the denouncer paused for a moment and then -went swiftly along it. Seeing this, he understood, and himself -followed swiftly, while now and again putting his hand in his breast -as though to make sure of what was hidden there. - -"He is gone that way," he muttered, "and the other knows it. So, too, -do I know it now. Between us we shall run the fox to ground." - -Thus they went on: the first man invisible to the last, but the second -kept well in view by that last; then suddenly the latter paused. - -He paused, with a muttered imprecation; paused while withdrawing -himself into the deep, dark stoop of an old house. - -"He has missed him! Missed him! He is coming back. The spy has -escaped. Ah! ah! the chance is gone. If he has missed him how shall I -ever find him?" - -A moment later this watcher started, while giving utterance to some -sound that was, now, neither imprecation nor exclamation, but, in -truth, a gasp. A gasp full of astonishment, nevertheless; a gasp that -surprise seemed to have choked back into his throat. - -For he who was coming back was not the tall, handsomely apparelled -young man who had started forth in pursuit of him whom he had -denounced as a renegade spy; but, instead, another. An older man, one -who held a dark cloak across his features from which some wisp of a -grey beard projected; one who, as he came swiftly towards that stoop -where the man was hidden, looked back and back, and back again, and -glinted a pair of dark eyes up and down the street as though in mortal -fear. - -"He's mine," the watcher whispered to himself. "He's mine. He will spy -no more." - -As he so spoke, the man who was returning drew near the stoop, his -footsteps fell outside it. He was before it! - - * * * * * * - -"How did I miss him? What twist or turn did the vagabond take whereby -to avoid me?" Bevill pondered the next morning, as now the soft, -roseate hue of the sun suffused the skies that, half an hour before, -had been daffodil and, before that, lit by the moon. For it was four -o'clock now, and the daylight had dawned on one of the last remaining -days of May. - -Four o'clock! And Bevill Bracton, after he had re-entered his room, -disheartened at having missed Sparmann, had sat from midnight until -now on a chair at a table by the window, while sternly refraining from -lying down for fear that, thereby, he might fall asleep and so be -trapped by some of the French soldiery whom the spy would possibly -have put on his track. - -He had asked himself the above question a dozen, a score, a hundred -times during these hours. He had muttered again and again, "How did I -miss him? How lose sight of him?" yet was always unable to find an -answer to the question. - -Also Bevill had asked himself another, a more important question -which, not only in his own mind but in actual fact, remained -unanswered. Why, since Sparmann had escaped him, had he not already -been denounced? Why, through the night as it passed away, or in the -cool coming of the dawn, had he heard no tread of provost's picket, or -corporal's guard, coming down the street to the inn to arrest him? Yet -his ancient enemy had but to warn them that here, in "Le Prince -d'Orange," was an Englishman on whom would be found a Frenchman's -passport, the passport of a secretary of the French Embassy in London, -for his doom to be swift and sure. A hurried examination, a still more -hurried trial, and--a platoon of soldiers! That was all. - -Yet nothing had come during those hours of the passing night. Nothing -had disturbed the watcher and listener at that table by the window, -nothing had caused him to even glance towards his unsheathed sword as -it lay on the undisturbed bed, nothing to cause his hand to advance -one inch towards the pistols placed on a chair by his side. A dog -barking, some labourers going forth to their toil, the striking of the -hours by the church clock; but nothing more. And now the day was come -and he was still free and unsought for. - -"Even had I been sought for it may be that I might have escaped from -out the town at break of day," Bevill mused now; "but what of her -opposite? What of the woman who depends on me and my succour if -needed--the woman who, knowing that I am no Frenchman and am, since -all the world is against France or France's king, doubtless her enemy, -does not betray me? Might have escaped? No! I could not have done -that." - -"Why," he continued, still reflecting, "has that man held his peace? -Does he doubt that he may be mistaken, that I am not his old enemy and -victor; or does he fear that, as he might betray me to his new -masters, so might I find opportunity to betray him to his old ones, to -his countrymen? In truth, it may be so." - -The little town was waking up to the work of the day by this time. -Windows were being thrown open to the rays of the bright morning sun. -Away, outside the town, the bugles and trumpets of those who held the -place in subjection could be heard, and, a moment later, Bevill saw -Jeanne thrust aside the shutters of the rooms of the first floor of -the "Duc de Brabant." - -"I had best make my way across," Bevill mused, as now he refreshed -himself with some hearty ablutions and made the usual toilet of -travellers of that day. "It seems that I am to be unmolested for the -present. Therefore will I start at once, and the sooner the better! -leaving word that, as near as may be, I will await the coach of Madame -la Comtesse beyond the town." - -Thrusting, therefore, his sword into his belt, and his pistols into -his deep pockets, he threw open the door of the room and went out into -the passage. As he did so, however, he saw the sun streaming through -the open door of another bedroom farther down, and heard voices -proceeding from inside the room. - -"Not in all night!" he heard one voice say, while recognising it as -that of the landlady. "Not in all night! And he a man of years! Surely -he is not a wastrel and a roysterer? It may be so, since he says he is -a Frenchman, though he has not the air thereof. Perhaps he has been -carousing with their dissolute soldiery. Or--_ach!_--if he should have -ridden off without payment. _Ach!_ 'tis like enough!" - -"His horse is in the stable," another voice, that of an ancient _femme -de chamber_, replied. "He has not done that. Yet, all the same, 'tis -strange. _Ja Wohl_, it is strange." - -"It must be _him_ of whom they speak," Bevill thought to himself, as -now he passed the door, and, giving "good-day" to the women within the -room, went down the stairs and out into the street, after which he -crossed the _place_ to the "Duc de Brabant." - -The coach of the Comtesse de Valorme was as he had seen it last night. -At present there was no sign of departure; the horses had not yet been -brought from the stable, and none of madame's servants were about. In -the courtyard, however, the stableman and _facchins_ were sluicing the -whole place with buckets of water and brushing and mopping the stones, -amongst them being the one who had brought down the valises to Joseph -overnight. - -Calling this man towards him with the intention of asking him to bring -Jeanne Or Joseph down for a moment, so that he might leave a message -for the Comtesse, he observed that he had a huge bruise on his face, -one that was almost raw, and bled slightly. - -"You have hurt yourself," Bevill said kindly to the fellow, after he -had asked him to do his behest; and after, also, putting a piece of -silver in his hand. "You would do well to put some styptic to your -face." - -"'Tis nothing, mynheer, nothing," the man muttered, as he pocketed the -silver. "The lights were out as I went to my bed last night. The -passages in this old house are dark as a pocket. It is nothing. I fell -and bruised myself." After which he went away to summon one of the -servants of her whom he called "Matame la Gomdesse." - -A moment later Joseph appeared on the scene, and, ere Bevill could bid -him inform Madame de Valorme that he thought it best to proceed past -the barrier and out of the town at once, the coachman exclaimed: - -"And the enemy of monsieur? The spy! What of him?" - -"I lost him," Bevill replied. "He evaded me." - -"And evidently he has not betrayed monsieur?" - -"Evidently. It may be, Joseph, he supposed that in betraying me I -might in return have betrayed him, if not to his new friends, at least -to his old. Now, Joseph, I go. Present my respects to madame and say -that a mile farther on the road to Liege I will await her coming." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -Month before Bevill Bracton had set out on the task of endeavouring in -some way to assist Sylvia Thorne in quitting Liege, and, should -Providence prove favourable, of enabling her to return to England -under his charge, the whole of what was termed, comprehensively, -Flanders was filled with various bodies of troops that were drawn from -almost all the countries of Western and, consequently, civilised -Europe. - -Used--as this great combination of various states had long been -called--as "The Great Barrier"--_i.e_., the barrier between the -aggressions of France and the safety of the Netherlands, it was, -therefore, now filled with the above-named troops of the contending -nations. To the most northern portion of it--from Antwerp on the west -to Cologne on the east, and then downward to Kaiserswoerth and -Bonn--the French held possession under the ostensible command of the -royal Duke of Burgundy, but actually under the command of the Marechal -de Boufflers, styled the second in command. With these were the troops -of Spain under the command of Le Marquis de Bedmar. Other marshals and -generals, such as Tallard (who was afterwards to lose the battle of -Blenheim) and De Chamarande held high command under them. - -The English and Dutch troops, many of the former of which had never -been withdrawn since the Peace of Ryswick, made during the reign of -William III., still held and garrisoned the more northern portions of -the Flanders barrier. Of these, the principal commanders were, until -Marlborough was appointed by the English and Dutch Governments -Captain-General of the whole army of the Grand Alliance, Ginkell, Earl -of Athlone, who was a Dutchman, and Coehoorn, who was another. Of -towns and villages and outposts which the allied troops held at this -time, Maestricht, a few miles north of Liege, was the principal; but -rapidly, after the arrival of the Earl of Marlborough, many more were, -one after the other, to fall into our hands. - -By the time, however, that Bevill Bracton had reached Flanders, not -only were continuous sieges and encounters taking place, but also -continuous marchings and counter-marchings and deployings of troops. -The ground which one week had been occupied and held by the French -would, the next, be occupied by English or Dutch, Austrian or -Hanoverian troops; Austria, which was the rival claimant to the throne -of Spain, being the only Catholic country in the Alliance. Had her -claims not been recognised and used as the pivot on which revolved the -determination of the other Powers to break down, once and for all, the -arrogant assumption of the King of France, she would never have been -admitted as partner in this great alliance of Protestant princes. She -was, however, the foundation stone of the great fabric, and could not -be omitted. - -The land, therefore, which formed part of the eastern portion of -Brabant, as well as the whole of Limburg, the Electorate of Cologne, -and the Bishopric of Liege, was at this time the scene of skirmishes, -of attacks, and general hostilities that occurred almost daily; but, -since these never attained to the dignity of a battle, they have gone -unrecorded even in the most dry-as-dust of military annals. Indeed, -they were frequently bloodless and often unimportant, the occasional -hanging of a spy, or supposed spy, on one side or the other, or the -detention of a person who could give no satisfactory account of -himself, being unworthy of notice by any chronicler, even if any -chronicler ever heard of the incidents--which is probably doubtful. - - -Almost directly St. Trond was quitted, the great Cologne road parted, -as it still parts; the northern arm passing through Looz to Maestricht -and the southern running straight to Liege by Waremme, only to reunite -later out side Liege. - -At this bifurcation Bevill Bracton, drawing up his horse, paused -beneath some trees and determined to await the coming of the Comtesse -de Valorme. - -It was still quite early, and, since he had been subjected to no delay -at the gate, his passport having merely been glanced at by the soldier -stationed there (perhaps because of the excellent French he spoke, -which was a great deal better than that of the man, who belonged to -the Regiment de Perche from the far south of France) he knew that -there was no likelihood of the Comtesse appearing yet. Therefore he -rode on a few hundred paces farther towards where he had observed a -signboard swinging from the branch of a tree, and decided that he -would wait here for her arrival. Also, he had not yet broken his fast, -and determined that now would be a good opportunity for doing so. - -As he came within twenty or thirty yards of the signboard, which bore -a heart painted on it--the emblem resembling more a heart painted on a -card than that which is a portion of the human frame--and had beneath -it, in Dutch, the words, "The Kindly Heart," he was astonished at -hearing a voice call out "Halt!" Yet he was not so astonished at -hearing the word, which is very similar in most languages, as in -hearing the voice that uttered that word, since, undoubtedly, it was -the voice of an Englishman. - -Turning in the direction whence the sound came, Bevill did not see any -person whatever. But what he did see was the short, squat, unbrowned -barrel of a musquetoon projecting through the interstices of a -quickset hedge and covering him. A moment later the voice of the -invisible owner of it repeated: - -"Halt, will you, or shall I put a plum into you?" - -In absolute fact, Bevill had halted at the first injunction; but, on -hearing the above words delivered in a most unmistakably English tone -of voice, he said: - -"My friend, you will pay me no such compliment as that. Since we -happen to be countrymen----" - -"Countrymen!" the voice exclaimed now. "And so I think, in truth, we -must be. Yet, countryman, are you mad? Have you escaped out of some -Dutch Bedlam to be roaming about here alone?" - -"No more mad than you who cry out to one who may be a Frenchman to -halt. Come out of that hedge and let me see you. What regiment are you -of?" - -"What regiment? The Tangier Horse--the Royal Dragoons, as we are now -called.[3] What matters the name so long as the fruit is good!" the -speaker said, as now he came out of a little wicket gate in the hedge -and advanced toward where Bevill sat his horse. As he did so, however, -he still held his musquetoon in such a manner that he could have fired -its charge into the other's body at any instant. - -"What are you doing here?" the latter asked, while recognising by the -man's accoutrements and banderole that he was undoubtedly that which -he stated himself to be. "Is," he continued, "your regiment near here? -Or any portion of our army? If not, you must be mad to betray yourself -to one who might belong to the present controllers of all this -neighbourhood." - -"That," the trooper replied respectfully, since he saw that he had a -gentleman to deal with, and one who, though he wore no signs of being -an officer, might very well be one, "you had best ask my captain and -the lieutenant. They are breaking their fast in the inn." - -"Your captain and lieutenant? Great heavens! Almost might I ask if -they too, if all of you, are demented. Here, in this place, surrounded -on all sides, garrisoned everywhere, by the enemy!" - -"They are as like, sir, to go harmless as you. And we have a picket -near. The enemy cannot get near us without our being warned in time to -escape. We are spying out the land." - -"Lead me to the officers," Bevill said. - -Upon which the trooper motioned to him to dismount and leave his horse -and follow him through the little orchard, out of which he had -descended to the road. "They are," he said, "at the back of the -house." While, as he did so, he repeated himself and said, "We are -spying out the land, but wish no one to spy on us." - -A burst of low, suppressed laughter reached Bevill's ears as now, -after tying La Rose's reins to a stake in the quickset hedge, he drew -near to the spot where the man had said the officers were. A burst of -laughter, suddenly hushed by one who formed the group, as he said, -"Silence! Silence! Here comes some stranger. If 'tis a Frenchman by -chance----" - - -[Illustration: "'He is no Frenchman,' Bevill answered for himself."] - - -"He will not be a Frenchman or any other man long, unless he is of -us." - -"He is no Frenchman," Bevill answered for himself as he reached the -grass plot, on which several officers sat round a table, and while -taking off his hat in salutation as he did so; "but, instead, an -Englishman. One who was once an officer of cavalry like yourselves, -and hopes to be one again ere long." - -"One who was an officer and hopes to be one again! One who _was!_ Pray -sir, of what regiment?" the older of the group asked. - -"Of the Cuirassiers. By name, Bevill Bracton." - -"Bevill Bracton? You are Bevill Bracton? The man who trounced that -insolent Dutchman for traducing our calling? The man who was broken -for doing so?" And the speaker held out his hand. - -"The same. Yet one who is not yet quit of him. He is now a spy in the -pay of the French, and at Antwerp he almost betrayed me, and so again -last night at St. Trond." - -"And this time you killed him?" - -"No. He disappeared. Something doubtless befell him--though not at my -hands--since I passed safely out of the town half an hour ago." - -After which, since Bevill's exploit of nearly killing Sparmann for his -insolence more than two years ago had brought him into considerable -notoriety (of an enviable character) with the whole of the army, while -the harshness of the unpopular William of Orange in removing him from -it had been very adversely commented on, these men, thrown so -curiously together, began to discuss their affairs. - -"Yet," said Bevill, as they commenced to "I pray you let your corporal -keep watch and ward over the road leading from St. Trond past here. -From out of the town will come ere long a travelling coach containing -a lady and her servants----" - -"What? Are English ladies travelling here, too, at such a time as -this? And have you become a squire of dames? Pray, who can the daring -lady be?" - -"The lady is not English!" - -"Oh. I protest! Surely, much as we are grappled to these good -Hollanders, there is no need for a British officer, as you have been -and will be again, to become a knight errant to their comely -womankind." - -"Nay. To be brief, the lady is a Frenchwoman. Ah! I beseech you," -Bevill continued, "do not misunderstand me." - -"'Tis very strange!" - -"'Tis very simple. Listen, gentlemen. I go to help a young lady, a -ward of my Lord Peterborough's----" - -"What! A ward of Mordanto's!" the captain exclaimed, with a laugh. -"The knight-errant _par excellence!_" - -"The very same. He is my cousin--or, rather, I should say in all -respect that I am his. I go to help this young lady to leave Liege in -safety, and to escort her first to the English lines, and afterwards, -if I can compass it, to England." - -"She must be the only English lady there now. For very sure, if you -get into Liege you will also be the only Englishman in it." - -"It may be so--for a time. Yet, for certain, Liege must fall to us ere -long. It is a place to be possessed of." - -"But the Frenchwoman!" one of the younger officers exclaimed. "The -Frenchwoman?" - -"She is a wayside companion--one whom I came to know at an inn we both -sojourned at. A widow, grave, serious, and withal somewhat young. A -serious-minded woman. Some slight assistance I rendered her on the -road 'twixt Louvain and that place," nodding towards St. Trond, "and -since then I ride as her escort. Yet, in solemn truth, my mind is -teased; for, French though she is beyond all doubt, and deemed me to -be the same at first----" - -"At first! And now?" - -"Now she has discovered by some tone or trick of accent--I having the -French well enough in ordinary since my father, Sir George Bracton, -dwelt in Paris, and I was brought up and schooled there--that I am -none. Yet, it may be, she knows not that I am English; but still--but -still she has asked me if I know of the movements of my lords Athlone -and Marlborough. If I can tell her when our army will draw near to -Liege, when it will come, where it is now----" - -"Tell her nothing," the captain said decisively. "She is a spy." - -"No; she is no spy, I will be sworn. The cunning of spies harbours not -behind such clear eyes or so honest a face as hers. If she is aught -she should not be, and still I almost reproach myself for dreaming of -such a thing, she is a woman who by some injustice, some wickedness -done to her, is false to her own country, to France. Listen, -gentlemen. This woman, the Comtesse de Valorme, desires one thing -above all." - -"What is it!" everyone of the dragoons asked in the same breath. - -"To be brought to Marlborough or Athlone as soon as may be. How, then, -shall she be a spy on us?" - -"Upon a pretext to see one of these generals, upon seeing them, she -might discover much," the lieutenant said; "yet she is but a sorry -fool if she dreams of speaking with either of them or learning aught. -Bah! Athlone--Ginkell--would offer her a glass of his native schnapps, -bow before her with heavy, stolid grace, call her, 'Zhere Matam la -Gondesse,' and tell her nothing. While as for my Lord Marlborough----" - -"Ay, my Lord Marlborough!" Bevill said. "Marlborough!" - -"He would receive her with infinite grace. Doubtless, he would kiss -her hand with the most engaging look on his handsome face. Also, he -would let her think that he esteemed himself well fortuned in being -able to place himself and all the army at her disposal, and--he also -would do nothing. A man with the sweetest disposition in all the -world, one bred a courtier from his youth, one who has been a French -soldier himself, who knows France as other Englishmen know their -native hamlet, will not be hoodwinked by any scheming Frenchwoman." - -"She is no schemer, or, if she is, it is against her own land," Bevill -exclaimed. "Oh! if I knew, if I could divine what reason there may be -for any French, in such times as these, to look to the English for -help and support! Gentlemen, you have been long on this foreign -service. Have you heard no word? Can any French, any portion of -France, be hoping for help from us against their own selves?" - -But the officers could tell him nothing. They had, indeed, been abroad -some time, but that time had been passed only in the Netherlands. They -did not know--it was impossible they should know--that far away in the -South, whose shores and golden sands were laved by the soft waters of -the Mediterranean, things were being done that were turning honest, -faithful subjects into rebels. They did not know that homes were being -rendered desolate, children made orphans, and parents childless; that -the nobles were escaping, where possible, to other lands; that the -working classes were being succoured in Clerkenwell and Spitalfields, -beneath the Swiss snows and on the burning shores of Africa. -Therefore, they could neither think nor dream of what might be the -cause--if there were any such!--which could make this woman of the -French aristocracy false to France. - -But now the trooper came back to where they sat with Bevill, and -stated that a great travelling coach was coming slowly along, it -having evidently issued from out St. Trond, which lay round a bend of -the road. Upon which Bevill, wishing them a hasty farewell and -exchanging swift handshakes with them, mounted La Rose. - -"God speed!" they all cried out to him. "God speed" and "_Fortune de -la guerre!_" while the youngest exclaimed, in boyish enthusiasm, "If -you creep into Liege and cannot find your way forth again, keep ever a -brave heart. We shall be near; we, or some of us, will have you out." - -"And, 'ware _les beaux yeux_ of Madame la Comtesse," the captain -called. - -"And those of the ward of my Lord Peterborough," said the lieutenant. - -"'There is more danger,'" cried the youngest, misquoting, "'in one -look of theirs than twenty of our foemen's swords,' as Betterton says -as Romeo." - - -"So, monsieur le Mousquetaire--_monsieur mon cousin_, Le Blond," the -Comtesse with emphasis said, as now Bevill rode back to the carriage -and took up his usual position by the window, "you can speak English -when you desire." - -"Yes, madame, when I desire. I hope the sound of that tongue is not -offensive to madame." - -"An Englishman," the Comtesse replied, her calm, clear eyes upon him, -"should ever speak the tongue he loves best--even as a valiant knight -is ever knightly, no matter what his land may be." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -Liege was before them. From a slight eminence in this land, in most -cases so utterly without eminence at all, they could look onward and -see its walls, especially those on the left bank of the Meuse. Also, -they could see upon what they saw was the citadel a great banner -streaming out to the soft south-west wind--a banner on which was -emblazoned the gold sun that was the emblem of him who gloried in the -name of "Le Roi Soleil." So, too, on the right side there floated out -that ostentatious, braggart flag from the roof of the Chartreuse. - -Lying outside the city, as they were easily able to observe from the -eminence on which they had halted, were several regiments, their -colours displayed from the larger tents amongst the lines; and some of -these Bevill Bracton was able to recognise, since he had seen them -before, when in Holland and Flanders under William III. - -"Those," he exclaimed, pointing towards a large blue banner that -streamed out above a great tent--a blue banner on which was a heraldic -emblazonment that, had they been nearer, they would have recognised as -a leopard _couchant_, "are the arms of a fierce, cruel general. The -pennon to the right is that of the cavalry of Orleans; that to the -left is the pennon of the dragoons of Piemont-Royal. We have met--I -should say I have seen them--before." - -Remembering, however, that much as the Comtesse might suspect or, -indeed, actually know with regard to his being neither Frenchman nor -mousquetaire, she did not know all, Bevill refrained from adding, "I -have charged them in the past, and should know their colours." - -"And this general you speak of--this man who is fierce and cruel? Who -is he?" - -"Montrevel," Bevill replied. - -As he did so he heard the Comtesse give a slight gasp, or, if it were -so slight as to be unheard, at least he saw her lips part, while into -her eyes there came a strange look, one that expressed half fear and -half hate. - -"Madame knows him?" he exclaimed. - -"I know of him. He is, as monsieur says, fierce and cruel. He--he -comes from a part of France I know very well--from Orange. And, worse -than all, he is a--a--renegade." - -"A renegade? He! One of Louis' most trusted leaders! He who has -received the _baton_ of a Field-Marshal but recently! He a renegade?" - -"One may be a renegade to others than king and country. To----" - -"Yes! To what? To whom?" - -"To God!" - -After which the Comtesse seemed undesirous of saying more and sat -gazing down towards the army lying outside the walls of Liege, while -occasionally asking Bevill if he could tell her what other persons or -regiments were represented by the various colours flying from tents -and staffs. - -But he, while doing his best to explain all that she had desired to -know, and while pointing out to her the regiments of Poitou and Royal -Roussillon--both of which he had also encountered--recognised that his -mind was far away from a subject that, in other circumstances, would -have occupied it to its fullest extent. - -For now he could not keep his attention fixed on banners and bannerols -and regiments, deep as might be the import they must bear towards -England and his own safety. He could not even reflect upon how he, an -Englishman passing as a Frenchman, would in the next hour or so have -to make his way through the lines of those regiments while every word -he uttered might betray him to sudden death. Sudden death! as must, -indeed, be his only portion if, among those masses of troops below, -one word mispronounced, one accent to arouse suspicion, should be -observed. Sudden death! Yes, after a moment's interview with one of -the generals or marshals--such a marshal, to wit, as the fierce cruel -Montrevel! Sudden death after another moment, and that but a short -one, allowed for a hasty prayer. - -And still he could not force his mind to think upon these things, -since those words of the Comtesse de Valorme had driven all other -thoughts away. - -"Why?" he asked himself again and again as he sat his horse by her -side. "Why does she speak thus of that truculent soldier? Why, among -so many other matters that must have possession of her thoughts now, -does this man's apostasy, for such it must be that she refers to, -affect her so deeply. Ah! if I could but know!" And, as he thought -thus, he let his eyes fall on those of the comtesse, and saw that hers -were resting on him. - -Suddenly, as he did this, he saw in them something that seemed almost -as clear and distinct as spoken words would themselves have been; some -pleading in them which, unlike spoken words, he could not understand, -while still recognising that in her look there was a request. But yet -he could not understand. He could not comprehend what it was that she -desired of him, and so held his peace. - -Now, however, the Comtesse spoke. She spoke as she leant forward, in -the same way she had done before since they had first travelled in -company, her gloved hand on the sash of the lowered window, her glance -full of earnestness. - -"We are close to Liege, monsieur," she said. "Little more than an hour -will take us to the lines of that army lying outside the city. In two -hours, by Heaven's grace, we may be inside. Monsieur, shall we not be -frank with each other?" - -"Frank, madame. How so? How frank?" - -"Ah, monsieur, do not let us trifle further. Each of us has an object -in entering that city. Yours I can partly divine, as I think; but mine -I doubt your ever divining. Yet--yet--I know what you are, and I would -that you should know who and what I am. If--if it pleases you, can we -not confide in each other?" - -Bevill bowed over his horse's mane as the Comtesse said these words; -then, in a low tone, he replied: - -"Any confidence madame may honour me with shall be deeply respected. -Meanwhile, I have perceived that madame knows or suspects that I am -not what I seem to be. So be it. I am in her hands and I do not fear. -Let her tell me what she believes me to be and, if she has judged -aright, I will answer truly. A frank admission can harm me no more -than suspicion can do." - -"I shall not harm you," the Comtesse said. "I have not forgotten your -succour when those boors had attacked me." Then, glancing round to -observe whether the servants were out of earshot, as was, indeed, the -case, since they had gone some little distance ahead of the coach the -better to gaze upon the troops environing the city, as well as on the -city itself, she said: - -"You are, as I have said, an Englishman." - -"Yes," Bevill replied calmly, fearing nothing from this avowal which, -made to any other French subject, would have been fraught with -destruction to him. "I am an Englishman." - - -[Illustration: "Liege was before them."--_p_. 363.] - - -"A soldier, doubtless, endeavouring to make his way to his own -forces." - -"No; I am no soldier--now. I have been one. But my mission is far -different from that. I go, if it may be so, to escort a young -countrywoman of mine out of Liege, and to take her back in safety to -England." - -"Alas! you will never succeed. That she may be permitted to leave -Liege is possible, though by no means probable. Those in the city who -are not French will scarcely obtain permission to depart, since they -would be able to convey far too much intelligence to the enemy of what -prevails within. While as for you----" - -"Yes, madame?" Bevill said, still speaking quite calmly. - -"You may very well stay in Liege unharmed since no Walloon would -betray you to his conquerors, and the French troops are in the -citadel, the Chartreuse, at the gates, and elsewhere. But you will -never get out with your charge." - -"Not as a Frenchman?" - -"No. Not with an Englishwoman. That is, unless she can transform -herself into a Frenchwoman as easily as you have transformed yourself -into a Frenchman." - -"Yet you have discovered me to be none." - -"I discovered you by some of your expressions, the turn of your -phrases, simply because--and this may astonish you--your French was -too good. You used some phrases that were those of a scholar and not -the idiom of daily life. It is often so." Then, with almost a smile on -the face that was generally so preternaturally grave, the Comtesse de -Valorme said: - -"Captain Le Blond, as you call yourself, would you discover that I am -a Frenchwoman?" - -And to Bevill's astonishment she spoke these words in perfect -English--so perfect, indeed, that they might have issued from the lips -of one of his own countrywomen. - -"Heavens!" he exclaimed, forgetting for the moment the perfect -courtesy and deference which had marked his manner to her from the -first. "What are you? Speak. Are you English or French? Yet, no," he -continued. "No. There is the faintest intonation, though it has to be -sought for; the faintest suspicion of an accent that betrays you. -Madame," he exclaimed, not rudely, but only in a tone born of extreme -surprise, "what are you--English or French?" - -"French," she replied, while still speaking in perfect English; "but I -have lived much in England, and--it may be that I shall die there." - -"I cannot understand." - -"You shall not be left long without doing so. Monsieur, as I must -still address you, it is more than twenty years since I first went to -England with my father, though I have returned to France more than -once during those years. Now I have returned yet again. And--you have -confided in me; I will be equally frank with you--listen. I am a -Protestant." - -"A Protestant!" Bevill exclaimed. "A Protestant? Ah! I begin to -understand. A Protestant opposed to this war; linked with us against -Spain and France; desirous of seeing these two great Catholic Powers -subdued----" - -"Alas!" the Comtesse said, "I cannot claim so noble an excuse for -being here in the midst of this war. My presence here is more selfish, -more personal. I--I--have suffered. God, He knows, how all of mine -have suffered in the South----" - -"You are from the South?" - -"I am. From Tarascon. You saw me start when you spoke of that -unutterable villain, Montrevel. Montrevel," she repeated, with bitter -scorn; "Field-marshal and swashbuckler! Montrevel, born a Protestant, -but now of the Romish faith. A man who has persecuted us cruelly--one -who even now desires to be sent to the Cevennes to persecute us still -further." - -Then, suddenly, the Comtesse ceased what she was saying, and, changing -from the subject, exclaimed: - -"But come--come. We have tarried here too long. We should be once more -on our road to Liege. How do you propose to present yourself at the -gates and gain admission to the city? You will run deep risks if you -appear under the guise of a mousquetaire; for"--and now she took out a -scroll of paper from the huge pocket let into the leather padding of -her coach and looked at it, "there are two troops of the Mousquetaires -Noirs at the Chartreuse." - -"You know that? You have a paper of the disposition of the French -forces?" - -"I have, though with no view of betraying them to--the Allies. My -disloyalty to my country is not so deep as that, nor even is it to the -King who persecutes my people so evilly. Nevertheless, there are many -of the Reformed Faith in these armies. There is a De la Tremouille, -though he is but a lad, in the bodyguard of the Duc de Bourgogne; a De -Rohan with Tallard; a De Sully in the Mousquetaires Noirs; also there -are many others. I have means of learning much, though not all that I -would know. These 'heretics,'" she continued bitterly, "may help me if -trouble comes and I require help. Meanwhile, for yourself. You will -never obtain entrance as a mousquetaire." - -"I have another passport--one procured for me by a grand personage in -England. With that I entered Antwerp, using only the papers of Captain -le Blond after I had been recognised by an ancient enemy." - -"Under what guise, what description, do you appear in that?" - -"A secretary of the French Embassy in London--the embassy that now -exists no longer." - -The Comtesse de Valorme pondered for a few moments over this -information, while, as she did so, there came two little lines on her -white forehead, a forehead on which, as yet, Time had not implanted -any lines of its own. Then she said: - -"And what name do you bear on that?" - -"Andre de Belleville." - -Again she pondered for a moment, then said: - -"It should suffice. It is by no chance likely that any of the -secretaries from that embassy, now closed, should come here, or be -here. Also, those at the walls cannot doubt me. It would be best you -enter as a kinsman riding by my side as escort, as protector; for such -you have been to me. And we are kin in one thing at least--our faith." - -"Madame, I am most deeply grateful to you. If----" - -"Nay; gratitude is due from me to you. Yet what was it you said but -now? That you had an ancient enemy who recognised you at Antwerp. If -so, may he not follow you here?" - -"I think not. At St. Trond he appeared again, only to again disappear. -Some evil may have befallen him, though not at my hands. He would have -denounced me by daybreak had that not happened." - -"So be it then. Let us go forward. Once in Liege you will doubtless be -safe. If 'tis not so, then you must rely on Heaven, which has watched -over you so far, to do so still. Where have you dreamt of sojourning -when you are there? At the house where dwells this lady you go to seek -and help?" - -"Nay; that cannot be. I have never seen her since she was a child. Her -father is dead. I know not in what part of the city she dwells. I must -seek some inn----" - -"No, no. I have kinsmen and kinswomen there of your faith. Their -houses shall be--nay, will be, freely at your service. Speak but the -word and it shall be so." - -For a moment Bevill Bracton pondered over this gracious offer, while, -even as he did so, he raised the gloved hand of the Comtesse to his -lips and murmured words of thanks for her politeness. But after a -moment's reflection he decided not to accept this offer. - -He recognised at once that he ought not to do so; that the acceptance -of that offer would be unwise. For he knew, or, at least, he had a -presentiment, that from the moment he reached Sylvia Thorne his duty -must be dangerous; that what he had promised the Lord Peterborough-- -ay! and also promised to do at all cost, all risk--might put him in -peril of his life. He had known this ere he set out from England; he -knew it doubly now. The French were all about and everywhere. Even -during the next hour or so he would have to pass through a portion of -that army to enter the city that lay before them. The difficulty of -leaving it would be increased twofold--tenfold, when he had with him -for charge a young girl, a young woman, who was also an English -subject. - -"Therefore," he mused, or rather decided quickly, while still the -Comtesse de Valorme awaited his answer, "I must be unhampered; above -all, untrammelled in my movements. God alone knows with what dangers, -what difficulties, it may please Him to environ me; but be that as it -may, I must at all hazards be free and at liberty to either face or -avoid them. Courtesy, that courtesy as much due from guest to host as -from host to guest, could not be freely testified in such -circumstances as these. The quality of guest would not be fairly -enacted by me. I should be but a sorry inhabitant of any man's house!" - -Therefore, in very courteous phrases, conveying many thanks, he spoke -these thoughts aloud to the Comtesse, while begging that the rejection -of her offer might not be taken ill by her. - -"It must be as you say," the lady said; "yet--yet--we must not drift -from out each other's knowledge. Remember, I shall still be able to -help and assist you; also I look forward still to your guidance and -succour. You will not forget? It is imperative for me, if Heaven -permits, to obtain audience of the Earl of Marlborough when he draws -near, or, failing him, that of other of his generals. It is to England -alone that we poor Protestants can look for succour." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -An hour later they had passed through the lines of circumvallation -thrown up by the French around Liege to prevent any attack from the -Allies; and through the earthworks bristling with cannon and culverin. -Also they had, since they were now arrived here, passed the first -inspection to which they must submit and the only one to which they -would be submitted until they were at the gates of the city itself. - -As the carriage of the Comtesse de Valorme had approached the opening -left in those earthworks, the coachman being guided to it by a track -which ran between innumerable grenades piled up in triangular heaps -and numbers of tethered chargers as well as various other signs of -preparation to resist attack, Bevill, looking down at his companion, -saw that she was very white, and that her face, usually so calm and -impassive, gave signs of much internal agitation. - -"You do not fear, madame?" he asked, more with a view to calming her -if necessary than, as a question. - -"No," she replied, "I do not fear. My days for fear, for personal -fear, are passed. I have suffered enough. But I am in dread for you." - -"Dread nothing on my behalf, I beseech you," Bevill said. "I have a -presentiment that that which I seek to do will be accomplished." - -"I pray that it may be so. Yet--yet--I bear a name that stands not -well in the eyes of Louis, and worse, doubly worse, in the eyes of the -woman who rules him--the woman, De Maintenon. If the name of Valorme -is known here to any in command--the name of Valorme, the heretic, the -_reformee_, the _affectee_," she repeated bitterly, "it may go hard -with us. I should not have bidden you to pass under the garb of a -kinsman of mine. It would be best for you not to do so----" - -But it was too late. Ere the Comtesse could finish the sentence, from -behind a number of superb horses tethered together there rang out the -words, "Halt, there!" and a moment later three officers and a trooper -came forward, all of whose splendid dress showed that they were of the -Mousquetaires Noirs.[4] Their blue riding coats were covered with gold -and silver lace; on their breasts were crosses of silver emitting -flames of gold, above each of which were stamped the _fleur-de-lis_; -while the whole was passemented with more lace. Near where the horses -stood, the banner of their regiment blew out to the warm afternoon -breeze; close by waved also the guidon of the Mousquetaires, with its -romantic legend, or motto, on it, "Mon Dieu, mon Roi, ma Dame." - -"It is an officer's guard," Bevill murmured to the Comtesse. - -"And of the Mousquetaires," she whispered back. "'Tis very well you -are not Captain le Blond any longer." - -Seeing that a lady was seated in the great coach, one of the -mousquetaires advanced, hat in hand, towards the window, while -apologising profusely to Bevill for causing him to back his horse so -that he might speak to his companion. Then, in a tone as courtly as -though he and the Comtesse stood in the salons of Versailles, he said: - -"Madame voyages in troublous times. Yet, alas! 'tis war time. As -officer of the exterior guard may I venture to ask for the papers of -madame?" - -Out of his politeness and innate good-breeding the mousquetaire but -glanced at the papers handed to him, while muttering "La Comtesse de -Valorme"; then, with a bow, he returned them to their owner, saying, -"Madame is at liberty to pass. I regret to have been forced to cause -her trouble," after which, turning politely to Bevill, he now asked -for his papers. - -"_La! la!!_" he said, "Monsieur is from our embassy in London," while -adding, with a smile, "Monsieur may meet with some of the English ere -long again. They gather fast. We shall hope soon to give them a -courteous reception." - -"Without doubt, monsieur." - -"Were monsieur and his brother officials well treated in London?" - -"He has nothing to complain of, monsieur. Every facility was given for -leaving England peaceably." - -"I rejoice to hear it. Madame la Comtesse, I salute you," again -standing bareheaded before the lady. "Monsieur, I am your servitor. -_En route_," to Joseph on the box; but suddenly he said, "Yet stay an -instant. Jacques, _mon camarade_," to the trooper close by (the -troopers of the Mousquetaires were all gentlemen and often noblemen, -having servants to attend to their horses and accoutrements), -"accompany the carriage to the city walls." - -"Yes, Monsieur le Duc," the man answered, saluting. - -"Thereby," the former continued, "shall madame's way be made easier -for her. The ground is a little encumbered," he said, turning to the -Comtesse. - -After which, and when more politenesses had been exchanged, the coach -proceeded on its way towards the city. - -A few moments later Madame de Valorme spoke to the trooper who had -vaulted on to a horse on receiving his officer's orders, and was now -riding on the other side of the carriage from that on which Bevill -rode, and asked: - -"Who is that officer who was so gallant to me? He is a very perfect -gentleman." - -"He is, madame, the Duc de Guise." - -"Ah!" she repeated, "the Duc de Guise!" while Bevill, who had glanced -into the carriage as she asked the question, saw that her face was -clouded as though by a sudden pain. - -Still a few moments more and the trooper had moved his horse to the -front of those that were drawing the carriage, evidently with the -intention of piloting Joseph through the enormous mass of arms and -weapons of all kinds, gun carriages, and other materials of war with -which the track through the camp was encumbered. So that, seeing they -were free from being overheard by the man, Bevill said: - - -[Illustration: "'Madame is at liberty to pass."] - - -"That name caused madame some unpleasant thoughts. It is a great one, -though not now prominent." - -"It is the name of the greatest persecutors we have ever known. The -bearer of it is the descendant of those who splashed the walls of -Paris and dyed the waters of the Seine with our ancestors' blood. Can -I--I--do aught but shudder at learning it, at being beholden to a de -Guise for courtesy?" - -"Those days are passed----" - -"Passed Are they passed? Does not their memory linger even now. Is not -the reflex of their wicked deeds cast on these present days? Oh, sir, -you do not know, you cannot know what is doing even now in France, in -the South. Ah, God! it seems to me as though the fact of this man, -this inheritor of all the wickedness and cruelty of his forerunners, -having been the first I encounter here, is an omen that I shall never -succeed in the task I have set myself." - -"Madame, think not so, I implore you. The Ducs de Guise are harmless -now. Their power is gone, their teeth are broken. The ancient nobility -can do nothing against the people without the King's command. He -rules, directs all." - -"Therein is the fear, the danger. Under that woman--faugh!--De -Maintenon, he does indeed rule and direct all, but he directs all for -cruelty. Who has filled the prisons, the galleys--ah! the galleys," -the Comtesse repeated with an exclamation of such pain that Bevill -wondered if, in any of those hideous receptacles of suffering and -misery in which countless Protestants were now suffering, there might -be, in their midst, some person or persons dear to her. "Who has -filled those, who has strung thousands of innocent men and women upon -the gallows, to the lamps of their own villages, on the trees of their -own orchards, but Louis the King and those, his nobles, under him? Ah! -ah!" she went on, "do you know what, in the old days, far, far off, -long before they slaughtered us on St. Bartholomew's eve, the motto of -the Guises was? It was one word only--'Kill.' And killing is in their -blood. It cannot be eradicated; it is there. Is it strange that, in -encountering this man. I fear? I who go to save. I who pray nightly, -hourly, that my mission may help to save, to prevent, further -slaughter?" And, as the Comtesse de Valorme finished speaking, she -threw herself back upon the cushions of her carriage and buried her -face in her hands. - -"I pray God, madame," Bevill said, he being deeply moved at her words, -"that the mission you are upon may bear good fruit. It is partly for -that, also, that we, the English, are banded against France and Spain. -Perhaps it may be that we desire not more to lower the pride, to break -down the power of this King, than to prevent those whom he rules over -from cruelly persecuting those of our faith." - -Now, however, this discourse between them had to cease. They were at -the gates of Liege, outside the suburb of St. Walburg, which, although -not the nearest point of admission, was the one to which those who -were permitted to enter the city at all were forced to go. - -Contrary, however, to any fears which either the Comtesse de Valorme -or Bevill might have felt as to their admission being made difficult, -they found that it was extremely easy. The fact of the trooper who -accompanied them having been sent by the Duc de Guise as an escort -brought about this state of things, since it was almost unheard of -that, whatever might be the detachment on guard at the exterior lines, -or whosoever might be the travellers, such thought for their -convenience should be exercised. - -Consequently, the slightest examination of the papers of each was made -by those at this barrier, and a moment later the barrier was passed. - -Bevill had accomplished part of the task he had set out to perform. He -was in the city where dwelt the woman whom he had come from England to -help and assist. - -"I am in Liege," he whispered to himself. "Yet--yet the difficulties -do but now begin. May Heaven prosper me as it has done hitherto!" - -They progressed now through the long, narrow streets that recalled, as -every street in the Netherlands recalled, and still in many cases -recalls, the ancient rule of Spaniard and Austrian. And thus, -continuing on their way, crossing old bridges over the canals and -watercourses that run from out the Meuse, observing the burghers -coming forth from the service of many of their churches, and remarking -the rich shops and warehouses full of silks and brocades from the -far-off Indies and Java, they came at last to one of the long quays -that border the river. - -"And so," the Comtesse de Valorme said, as now the coach drew up at a -great solid house in a small square off this quay, "we part for the -present. Yet, monsieur, we are more than acquaintances now, more than -mere fellow-travellers----" - -"Friends, if madame will permit." - -"Ay, friends! Therefore will you not tell me what is your rightful -name? It may be well that I should know it." - -"My name is Bevill Bracton, madame. I never thought when I set out -upon this journey that I should tell it to any but her whom I seek; -yet to you I now do so willingly." - -"You may tell it in all confidence, and you know you may. 'Bevill -Bracton,'" she repeated to herself. "I shall not forget. 'Bevill -Bracton,'" she said again, as though desirous of impressing it -thoroughly on her memory. "But here," she went on, "you are to be -known always as Andre de Belleville!" - -"It would be best, madame. I shall be known to few and, if fortune -serves, shall not be long here." - -For a moment the Comtesse let her clear eyes rest on the young man, as -though she were meditating somewhat deeply; then suddenly, though -hesitating somewhat in her speech as she did so, she said: - -"And this young countrywoman of yours--this lady whom you have come so -far to assist? May I not know her name also? It is no curiosity that -prompts me----" - -"Madame," Bevill replied, "our confidence is well established, our -friendship made. The lady's name is Sylvia Thorne." - -"Sylvia Thorne! Sylvia Thorne! Why, I know her. We, too, are friends, -and firm ones." - -"You know her? You are friends?" - -"In very truth. I have been here more than once before as guest of my -kinsman. And--yes, Sylvia Thorne and I are friends. Ah! what a double -passport would this have been to my friendship had I but known that -you were on your way to sweet Sylvia." - -"She is, then, sweet? Doubtless gentle also?" - -"She is both. In Sylvia Thorne, whom you say you knew once as a little -child, you will find a sweet, good woman. Grave, perhaps, beyond her -years--she has suffered much by the loss of both her parents--and too -calm and unruffled, it may be, for one whose footsteps have but now -passed over the threshold of womanhood. Sincere with those who win her -regard, contemptuous of those unworthy of the good opinion of any -honest man or woman; while yet placed here as she is, she possesses -one gift she had far better be without." - -"And that is, madame?" - -"The gift of beauty; for she is beautiful, but seems to know it not. -And it may be that her beauty is too cold and stately; it has not the -brightness, the joyousness, that should accompany the beauty of youth. -But you will see her ere long. Observe, those whom I come to dwell -with for a time are at the door. Farewell--nay, _au revoir_ only, -since you will not enter. _Adieu_ till next we meet. You know the -house now; the door stands ever open to those who are my friends." - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -On that long quay over which the coach had passed but just now, Bevill -Bracton, as he rode by its side, had observed an ancient inn, as all -things were ancient in this old-world land--one that bore on its front -the name, "Gouden Leeuw," and testified as to what its Walloon -significance might be by having beneath it a fierce-looking gilt -monster, that might be intended for a lion, as sign. - -"That should be the house for me," Bevill thought, as now he rode back -towards it. "A front room here, on the lower floor, if it may be -obtained; the river almost at its feet, boats tied to old posts and -stanchions. All is well. If danger threatens, as well it may, then -have I the way open to me." - -For Bevill had not been a soldier for nothing, nor had he forgotten -that he who attempts daring deeds should ever have a retreat open in -case of need. - -That the business he was now about was, in absolute truth, of almost -foolhardy daring he had known and recognised from the moment he -decided to undertake it as he stood before the Earl of Peterborough at -Fulham; while, as he advanced farther and farther through a land -which, though not itself hostile to England, was in the clutches of -England's greatest enemy, he had more and more recognised this to be -the case. But now that he was here, in a city surrounded by those who -had possessed themselves of it during a peace that had never been a -complete one, a city whose heights and strong places were full of the -enemy, he allowed no delusions to prevent him from acknowledging the -perils by which he was surrounded. If he should be suspected, watched, -and either denounced or arrested, there would be no hope for him. He -was neither a soldier who would be saved by his calling nor a -political agent who could be saved by any mission that might have been -entrusted to him. He was merely a subject of the greatest enemy of -France, disguised under a French name; a man who could have no -ostensible reason for being here except as a spy. - - -[Illustration: "Impressed it with a ring he wore."] - - -As, however, he reflected on all this, while forgetting no point that -would tell deeply against him--there was not one that would tell in -his favour!--he felt no qualm of apprehension, and fear itself was -utterly absent. He had set his life upon this cast; the hazard of the -die must bring him either a restitution of all that he desired, or -total oblivion of all things in this world. He had elected to make the -throw, even as the soldier stakes his life against either Fortune's -buffets or rewards; fear had no part or parcel in the attempt. Yet, as -with the soldier, it behoved him to be wary, to fling no chance away, -to risk no more than every brave attempt requires to make it a -successful one. - -What Bevill hoped to find at the "Gouden Leeuw" was, happily, -obtainable. A room was put at his disposal which, while looking across -the quay on to the river, had also, since it was at an angle of the -house, another window giving on to an alley that ran along the side of -the inn. - -"Therefore," Bevill said to himself, "all is very well. Should I be -sought for when I am in this room I still have two other modes of -egress beside the door. Should they attempt to get at me from either -window, still I have the door. Short of surrounding the house, I can -hardly be trapped, and not at all without making a good fight of it." - -"Yet," he continued to muse, as now he endeavoured to make himself -presentable and, at the least, well washed and brushed and combed, -since he intended at sunset to make his way to Sylvia according to the -directions on the letter he bore; "yet it may never come to this. I -obtained entrance easily to this city; I have but the brains of a bird -if, after I have made myself well acquainted with the place, I do not -discover some way of getting Mistress Thorne and myself out of it." - -By this time the sun was beginning to dip towards where the North Sea -lay afar off; already its rays were slanting across the Meuse and into -the windows of his room. The air was becoming cooler; soon the evening -would be at hand; and then he would make his way towards the "Weiss -Haus," as he knew the abode of the late Mr. Thorne was termed; and, if -it might be, present his credentials to the young mistress of that -house. - -But first he must make a meal, since he had eaten nothing since he set -out from St. Trond. Therefore he went now to the usual description of -room where travellers ate, and, ordering a good substantial repast, at -down to do justice to it. While he was waiting for his supper to be -brought to him, he drew from the pocket in his vest the letter which -Lord Peterborough had given him, and regarded it again. - -It was addressed in the Earl's own hand to "Mistress Sylvia Thorne, of -the Weiss Haus, Liege, in the Bishoprick of Liege," and tied with -silk, but unsealed, his lordship having either adopted the ancient -courteous custom of leaving all letters of presentation open, or -perhaps desiring that the bearer of it should read the credentials he -bore. - -Needless to say that Bevill was not one who would have availed himself -of the chance he had possessed for days of discovering what those -credentials were. He would not have been here as the accredited agent -of the Earl, and on such a mission as this, had it not been certain -that the recommendation was all that was necessary to induce Sylvia -Thorne to entrust herself to his hands. The confidence of Lord -Peterborough told him plainly enough what the contents of that letter -must be; while, even if it had not been so, Bevill would no more have -thought of untying the silk bow and reading those contents than of -breaking the seal had there been one. - -But his astute lordship had made one slip in what he had written. In -one corner of the folds, where the superscription was, he had written, -"To present my cousin, Bevill Bracton, heretofore known to -you.--P. & M." - -"My lord must have supposed this letter would leave my hand only to be -taken into the lady's," Bevill said to himself; "otherwise he would -never have written my name thus. He should have put in its place, -'Monsieur Andre de Belleville,' since it must pass through the hands -of some servitor or waiting maid to reach hers." Then, smiling to -himself, he went on, "He warned me of the danger I must encounter -should this letter fall into the hands of others than Mistress Thorne. -Those dangers might well have been added to by this forgetfulness. -However, it matters not now. 'Tis easily made safe." - -He bade the serving man, who had not yet brought him his supper, fetch -a sheet of papers a white wax candle, and some Spanish wax, and, when -this was done, bade him bring also an inkhorn and pen. Then, folding -Lord Peterborough's letter in the fresh sheet, he lit the wax and -impressed it with a ring he wore, and, when the horn came, addressed -it in French to "Mistress Thorne, at the Weiss Haus." Adding also, -"The bearer waits." - -"The house," he thought as now he ate his supper, "should be on this -or some other quay. My lord said that great was the merchandise in -which her father dealt, and also that he owned many vessels. He would -be near the water's edge, since the river is navigable to the sea." - -For precaution--the precaution of not doing aught that might in -any way, if danger should arise, be inimical to Sylvia Thorne's -security--Bevill had resolved that he would ask no questions in the -"Gouden Leeuw" as to the situation of her house. He would give no -intimation whatever that could connect his appearance in this city -with the Englishwoman who, though not a captive, was at least not free -from the environment of her country's foes. He had resolved that the -man supposed to be a Frenchman named Andre de Belleville, residing at -this inn, should not be known, in it at least, to be a visitor to the -young Englishwoman at the Weiss Haus. - -He went out shortly on to the quay and walked slowly along under the -row of trees planted on it and on a similar one across the river, and -observed that many of the burghers were taking the evening air with -their wives and children. In their aspect there was little to be -perceived that would have told a stranger that, either in their strong -places or outside their walls, there lay the hostile army of the most -dreaded monarch in Europe, which, at this time, meant almost the whole -world. Neither did he see any French about, and certainly no soldiers -of any rank; and he did not know that strict orders had been given in -the Duke of Burgundy's name that all of them were to keep apart from, -and, above all, not to molest, the inhabitants of any towns or cities -they either held or surrounded. - -He saw, however, many monks and priests, which did not astonish him, -since he knew well that, though the Reformed Faith had been long since -adopted here by the inhabitants, the Bishopric of Liege was in the -Spanish interests, which meant the Romish, and always had been. Nay, -had he not heard that here was a college of English Jesuits, as well -as another of French? - -Even, however, a Bevill continued his way, while thinking that, at -last, he would have to ask some honest burgher to direct him to where -the Weiss Haus might be, he passed a group of men, one or two of whom -were clad in the garb of a priest, while the others were -undistinguishable by their attire. - -One of the latter, a young man of almost his own age, had fixed his -eyes on Bevill as he drew near--as, indeed, many other eyes had been -fixed on his erect figure and comely face before--while, as the group -passed him, this young man not only stared hard at him, but, as Bevill -could observe by a side glance, turned round to look again as he went -by. - -"I' fags!" Bevill said to himself, walking on slowly, "the man seems -to know me, though never have I consorted with any of his seeming -friends to my knowledge or recollection. And yet--and yet--those dark -eyes that glinted at me under the trees do not appear strange, any -more than did his other features. Where have I seen him before, or -have I ever seen him? Tush! if 'twas ever, it must have been when I -was in the last campaign. We were much given to running against these -gentry." - -He had reached the end of the most frequented part of the quay by now, -and had, indeed, come to a part of it where the high houses, built in -many cases of dark blue marble, no longer presented an unbroken array. -Instead, they were detached from one another, and stood in large -gardens having walls round them; while on the front, towards the quay, -were openings in which were enormous iron gates. In many cases great -warehouses close by lifted their heads high into the air, so that here -they alternated with the residences and spoilt the latter (whose -appearance was handsome) by their own unlovely though businesslike -aspect. But, farther away still, there stood another mansion deeply -embowered in trees and, at some considerable distance beyond it, an -enormous warehouse, yet one that was such a distance off that, since -the house itself was surrounded by the trees, it would in no way -disturb the peace of the latter or the views from it. And the mansion -itself now gleamed out white in the evening sun. - -"It may well be her abode," Bevill thought to himself. "Very well it -may; and if it is not, then must I ask the whereabouts of the Weiss -Haus; or, maybe, it is across the river. Yet that matters not. I -passed a ferry but now." - -When, however, he stood in front of that great white mansion he learnt -that he had found the house of her whom he had come from England to -seek. - -Through the bars of the great iron gate which this mansion possessed -in common with the others hard by, Bevill could see the gardens laid -out in the stiff Dutch fashion he had so often seen before, though -still, it seemed to him as if some attempt had been made to give to -them an English appearance. Beyond the straight beds of tulips, the -flowers of which were now almost all gone, there was a lawn, or grass -plot, green as any lawn in England, smooth and well kept, and having -at its edges beds of roses placed in front of formal statues and -summer-houses. - -"There is some touch of our land here," Bevill said to himself. "In -good truth, I do believe that I have found the lady." - -Seeing through the bars an old man weeding 'twixt the rows of tulip -plants, though he seemed to do his work in a half-hearted way as -though indifferent to what success his efforts might produce, Bevill, -addressing him in the best Dutch he could summon up, asked, "Is this -the house of Mistress Thorne?" - -"_Ja; Ja wohl_," the old man said, looking up from his work. "What do -you desire?" - -"To see her. It is for that I am here." - -The gardener let his eyes rove over Bevill as he received this answer, -and observed that he was well and handsomely dressed, although his -dress, and breast and neck lace, showed signs of travel in spite of -the brushing they had received; then he said: - -"The Juffrouw sees little company now--none but old friends, and -specially none of those who lie out there or there," waving his hands -with a sweep which included, as Bevill very well understood, those who -lay outside the town and in the citadel and Chartreuse. - -"It may be she will see me," Bevill said. "At least, I will make trial -of it. Take this," he continued, while drawing from his breast the -letter he had so recently furnished with a further wrapper and giving -it to the man; "and this for your labour," putting a rix-dollar into -his hand. "Now, go and do my bidding." - -The coin did for Bevill that which, perhaps, neither the packet nor -his own tone of command might have been able to accomplish, and, -thrusting his hoe into one of the flower beds, the gardener went off -towards the white house, while muttering: - -"I can take it as far as the stoop, but no farther. There it must be -given to a house servant, who may deliver it into the hands of the -Juffrouw. I can answer for no more." - -"Do that, and it will serve. Make haste, the night falls; it is -growing late." - -When the old man had shambled off, Bevill, standing by a thicket at -one side of the garden, let his eyes roam over the great white front -of the old, solid house while observing how firmly it had been built, -and how strong and handsome it was. - -In front of the ground floor, to which three stone steps led up, there -ran a long verandah, also of stone: above, on the first floor, where, -Bevill supposed, the saloons were, there projected huge, bulging stone -balconies leading out from the windows, and on one of these there was -a great table placed, with chairs by it, so that he supposed people -sat out here in the cool of the evening when the sun was gone. Also, -there were flowers in china tubs everywhere, and orange trees and -shrubs all about, and awnings too, whereby the great house presented -not only a look of great solidity, but also one of comfort. - -But now he saw the old gardener coming back towards him, and observed -that his hand no longer held the letter. And next he remarked -something else. - -He saw a great striped curtain drawn back from behind the window, and -from behind a lace curtain also, and, a moment later, there stepped on -to the balcony a young woman clad all in black, though her long robe -was broidered with white lace--a woman who, he saw at one glance, was -tall and slight; while--also in the same glance--he perceived that she -was beautiful. - -After which, as he advanced hat in hand, until he was almost directly -under that balcony where now the lady, her hands upon the edge, stood -looking down at him bowing before her, he saw that she waved a sign of -salutation to him, and, as she leant further over, said: - -"Sir, for this visit I thank you. It is long since we have met. You -are vastly welcome. Enter my house, I beg. One of the domestics will -bring you to me." - -With a bow, accompanied by a courteous acknowledgment of her words, -Bevill proceeded towards the house, when to his astonishment he heard -the old gardener, who had reached his side before this, mutter some -words in an angry voice--the words, "He here again! He! No matter. -To-night he shall not enter." - -Attracted by these mutterings and also by the old man's glances -directed towards the great gate, Bevill could not refrain from -following those glances, and, as he did so, saw that a man's eyes were -staring in through the wrought-iron bars. - -The eyes he recognised as those belonging to the same man who had -stared so inquiringly at him on the quay less than half an hour -before. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -The hall of this old house was large and square, its floor composed of -brown and yellow diamond-shaped marble tiles, over the greater part of -which were thrown down various rugs of gorgeous hues. Facing the -entrance was a large staircase, also of marble, that, after ascending -for five steps, turned to either side and so led up to a gallery -above, from which the first floor rooms opened all round. - -Now, as Bevill entered the hall, he saw that Sylvia had descended from -that floor and was standing on the top step of the five awaiting him. -Then, as he approached, she descended the other four steps and, coming -swiftly towards him with both hands outstretched, exclaimed: - -"So you are Bevill Bracton, who once played with me in the gardens of -Carey Villa at Fulham--the young man who pined to be a soldier and -became one. In truth, and I am well pleased to see you; yet, had I met -you elsewhere I should have scarce known you for my old playmate." - -"Nor I you, Mistress Sylvia Thorne; for then you were a little winsome -child and now----" - -"Now I am a woman. One too," she added, while a shade crept over her -face, "whom you find in sad and sorry plight. For, as you know, my -father has gone from me--from me who loved him so!--and I am here in -this beleaguered city, not knowing whether to leave it or stay on and -brave the worst. Yet be that as it may, I thank you for coming here, -for offering your services to your kinsman on my behalf." - -Murmuring his regrets for the loss of her father and also for the -situation in which she found herself placed, while protesting that -that which he had done and hoped still more to do was nothing, Bevill -could not but let his eyes roam over the features of the young woman -who stood welcoming him. And, as he did so, he acknowledged how -truthfully the Comtesse de Valorme had spoken when she told him that -she had the gift of beauty. - -For beautiful Sylvia Thorne was, with that beauty on which no man -gazes without giving instant acknowledgment thereof, even though that -acknowledgment is never outwardly expressed by eye or voice. - -The child's large dark grey eyes--perhaps they were a dark hazel--yet -who may tell the shade of women's eyes at one swift glance!--fringed -with dark lashes, as he had recalled to the Earl of Peterborough, -were, of course, the same; but the rest had changed. The dark chestnut -hair that, in Sylvia's girlhood, had flowed loosely about her, was now -coiled in masses above her white forehead; the clear-cut features that -had promised so much in the young girl had redeemed in her young -womanhood that which they promised. And those quiet, calm eyes well -became the oval face, straight nose, and small mouth, the upper lip -being divinely short; while, when Lord Peterborough had agreed that -she was passing fair, and the Comtesse had said that she was beautiful -yet seemed not to know that she was so, each had judged aright. Also, -there was in her the tranquillity that the latter had spoken of, but -shadowed, too, by the memory of a recent sorrow. For the rest, she -was, like Rosalind, "more than common tall," upright, and full of -dignity; a woman who, as years went on--if they were peaceful, quiet -ones, with all that should accompany them, such as love, home, and -children; years undisturbed by the struggles for triumph or the tears -of failure--would develop into a stately, and it may be commanding -one. - -Doubtless, as Bevill looked on Sylvia Thorne, so, also, she looked to -see what changes time had wrought in the youth who, once little better -than a stripling, was now a man, strong, firm, self-reliant. If so, -what she saw should not have impressed her unfavourably. The handsome -features had not altered, but only become more firmly set; the mouth, -well shaped, spoke of determination, and told of one who, without -obstinacy, would still remain unturned from any resolution he had come -to; the stalwart form of the man had taken the place of the tall, -promising youth. - -Seated in that great hall into which by now the rays of the evening -sun were pouring, and to which two servants had brought great -candelabra filled with white wax candles, while they had already lit -those in the sconces on the pillars, Sylvia and Bevill spoke of what -the future might have before them. But that which Sylvia now told the -young man seemed scarcely to convey the idea that he had undertaken a -journey likely to bear much fruit. - -"Since my dear father's death," she said, after Bevill had described -some portions of his journey from London, though omitting the fact of -his having been recognised by Sparmann, since he thought it -inadvisable to tell her that there was danger in his undertaking, "I -have lived here with a companion. Almost, one might say, a _chaperon_, -or, as the old tyrannical rulers of the land would have termed her, a -_duenna_. Yet now she has fallen sick--in truth, I think the French -have terrified her into a fever. Therefore she has departed--it was -but yesterday--to her own people at Brussels, where, however, she will -also find the French; and I am alone in this great house." - -"What, in consequence, have you resolved on doing?" - -"On shutting it up and seeking refuge at Mynheer Van Ryk's----" - -"The house to which your friend the Comtesse de Valorme has gone!" -Bevill exclaimed. - -They had already spoken of the Comtesse, Bevill telling Sylvia that -that lady had said the latter was well known to her, and also that she -had told him ere they parted that Van Ryk had married a connection of -hers. - -"Yes, that is the house; yet--yet I know not if it is well for me to -go there. If----" - -"But," said Bevill, "if you resolve to follow my lord's advice--and he -is left your guardian--and do me so great an honour as to permit me to -endeavour to escort you safely to England, you will scarce need to ask -for hospitality of Mynheer Van Ryk." - -"I know not. Frankly, I know not what to do. To be very honest, you -should know I am in no danger here--from the French. They have their -faults, and those are neither few nor small; but they are gallant to -women, and, except that they drive hard bargains for all they require, -they have not molested those who dwell in the towns and cities they -either possess themselves of or surround." - -"Until now," Bevill said, while feeling somewhat surprised and -somewhat disappointed, too, at this last utterance of Sylvia, since it -seemed to express a doubt on her part as to whether she should avail -herself of the service which he had come to perform--"until now they -have but made themselves secure of those towns and cities, with a view -to what the future may bring forth. But it is war time at last, and -half Europe has declared against France and Spain. Will France -restrain herself so much in the future? Especially since -Holland--the Netherlands--have banded with England against her?" - -"Ah, yes; ah, yes," Sylvia replied meditatively. "It is true I had -forgotten that. Affairs will doubtless be much changed; and -also--also," she said in a low voice, as if speaking more to herself -than to Bevill, "I am averse to becoming an inmate of Mynheer Van -Ryk's house, hospitably as he has pressed me to do so." - -Recognising that in this there lay hidden some reason which, probably, -Sylvia Thorne knew to be a good one for preventing her acceptance of -the hospitality of the Liegois house, yet still one which she did not -desire to confide to him, Bevill held his peace, and decided that it -did not become him to ask what that reason might be. - -Yet, since he asked no question, nor, indeed, uttered any remark at -the conclusion of what Sylvia had said, she looked round at him as -though in wonderment at his silence. - -Then, a moment later, she said: - -"Between you and me there must be no secrets. The service you have -done me, the service you came here to render me, the service you may -yet do me--nay!" she said, seeing his motion of dissent, "it is in -truth a service. Do not refuse to regard it as one. There must, I say, -be no secrets between us. Therefore, I will be very frank, and tell -you why I do not like the thought of sojourning at Mynheer Van Ryk's." - -Bevill made a motion with his hand, as though not only to deprecate -her appreciation of what he had undertaken to do on her behalf, but -also to prevent her from making any confidences to him that she would -have preferred not to divulge. But Sylvia, sitting upright in her -chair on the other side of the old carved oak table that was between -them--while he observed the calm, almost impassive, dignity with which -she spoke of a subject that must be far from pleasant to her--said: - -"There is in that house a man--a young man--a kinsman of Madame -Van Ryk and, consequently, of the Comtesse de Valorme also, -who--who--well, wearies me with his attentions. He professes to admire -me, and desires that his admiration should be returned." - -"Yes?" Bevill replied in a tone of inquiry, while in that tone there -was no expression of astonishment. It may be, indeed, that there was -no cause for astonishment in what Sylvia had told him. She was -beautiful--"passing fair," as he had himself said when musing on what -the child he had once known might have become by now, and as Lord -Peterborough had echoed; also she was young and--which might well -serve for much--wealthy. There was, he thought, no great cause for -wonderment. Therefore he said simply, "Yes?" and waited to hear more. - -"The matter," Sylvia continued, "would be unworthy a thought, but that -it may make my sojourn at Mynheer Van Ryk's irksome to me." - -"There being no hope of reciprocation?" - -"It is impossible. To me this man--this Emile Francbois----" - -"This _who?_" Bevill exclaimed in a voice that caused Sylvia to turn -round suddenly and glance at him under the lights of the great -candelabra. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "is it possible you know him, or know -of him?" - -"No, no! The name struck me as--as one that I had heard before in--in -far-off days, while unable to recall where or in what circumstances I -had done so. I pray you pardon my interruption. You were about to say -that to you this man, this Emile--what is it?--Francbois was----" - -"Repellent. He is--oh! I know not what--yet one whom I mistrust. -Neither know I why he is here. He is, of course, a Frenchman, yet he -consorts not with those who hold Liege in their hands, and speaks as -though his sympathy is with all who are Dutch." - -"And, if he were different," Bevill asked quietly, "would your -sentiments be also different?" - -"Oh--oh!" Sylvia exclaimed, "how can you ask? Yet it is true you do -not know him; you have not seen him yet. Doubtless you will do so, -however, if I am compelled to accept the hospitality of his kinsman's -house." - -"Yet need there be no such compulsion. You will not have forgotten -what Lord Peterborough's desires are, what I am here for. To take you -away from Liege. Liege that, it is true, has not been harmful to you -as yet, but that may now become terribly so. The Earl of Marlborough -must be on his way here by this time; he may be in the Netherlands by -now; when he comes, war will be carried on in terrible earnest. Will -these French, who do but lie around this city at present, be -considerate for those who are within its walls when they themselves -are between those walls and the troops of the Allies?" - -"For myself I do not fear. I am a woman, and therefore safe; but----" -"But--yes?" - -"The risk will be terrible!" - -"The risk? You are safe, yet fear the risk?" - -"Not for myself," Sylvia answered with a half-smile; then, changing -her tone, speaking once more now in her calm, steady voice, she -continued: "Mr. Bracton, do you deem me a heartless, selfish woman -thinking only of her own safety? I pray not. Nay," seeing that he was -about to reply, "I entreat you, let me speak." After which she went -on: "For me there is little or no danger here. Your cousin, who has -ever had kindly thoughts for me, has overrated the danger in which I -stand. I repeat there is no danger. But--what of you? In what a -position has he placed you?" - -"Ah! never think of it. What care I for danger? And--has he not told -you in the letter I was bearer of that I courted danger? I asked for -this office on which I now am. I besought him to let me be the -messenger who should reach you, who should be, if not the man who -saved you, at least the one who should accompany you, help you, serve -you in your journey to England." - -"You are very brave," the girl said, looking up at him as now he stood -before her, since he had risen and taken up his hat, knowing that, -because the night had come, it was time he left her--"brave and -gallant. From my heart I thank you." - -"No thanks are due. I do not deserve them. Do you know my unhappy -circumstances, and how I hope to mend them? Do you know how I, who -held not long ago the position I loved--the one I had hoped for since -I was a boy----" - -"I know," Sylvia Thorne said, looking at him. "I know, and still I -thank you; and, in good faith, I would be gone willingly enough from -out this place, but not"--and for a moment, just a moment, her -stateliness left her, and she placed her hands before her eyes--"not -at the risk, the danger to you, that must surely arise." - -"The danger is not worth a thought. The English are all around, are -near. Only a few hours ago I encountered some English officers not -twenty miles from here. Once we reach Athlone's forces, or those of -Lord Cutts, we are in safe hands. Our lines stretch from near Venloo -almost to Rotterdam; an English road would not be more safe. And the -sea is ours; the fleets of Rooke, of Shovel, are all about. -Decide--and come, I do beseech you." - -"The danger to you," Sylvia said, as now she escorted him to the -verandah, "is neither in Holland nor on the high seas. It is here. -Here, in Liege! If it is once discovered that you, an Englishman, have -entered this city as a Frenchman, that you are endeavouring to quit it -while assisting a countrywoman to also do so, you will never leave it -alive. Never! Never! Your chivalry will have led you to your doom. Ah! -Mr. Bracton," she continued, "there is no danger to me; therefore, I -implore you, leave me. Leave me. Escape yourself, as, alone, you may -well do. Escape while there is time." - -"Never!" While, as he spoke, Sylvia Thorne, looking at him in the -light of the now rising moon, saw that he smiled. "Never! If you will -not come, if you will not do your guardian's bidding, then I have -another resource." - -"Another resource?" - -"Why, yes: I stay here with you!" - -"Ah, no! Ah, no!" - -"Yes, I remain with you. When the Allies come near here, as come they -surely will--are they not besieging Kaiserswoerth--do they not hold -Maestricht--is not Venloo, close by, threatened?--there will be -terrible trouble in Liege. Those French regiments outside will be -drawn nearer; some will be thrown into the city, besides those already -in the Citadel and the Chartreuse; a terrible state of things will -prevail, an awful licence. I know the French--we have met before! -Therefore I will not go and leave you, having found you. I undertook -to do this thing, and I will stand by my word--my word given to my -kinsman and your guardian. We leave this city together on our road to -the Allies, if not to England, or----" - -"Yes--or----" - -"We remain in it together. I will never set eyes on Peterborough's -face again till I stand before him with you by my side--and safe." - -As Bevill Bracton spoke thus while standing, hat in hand, on the -crushed shells of the path below the verandah steps, and while looking -upwards at the young mistress of the great house, the summer night had -fallen almost entirely, and, beyond the faint light of the dusk and -that of the stars, all was dark around. - -Also, the night was very still, save that, afar off, some nightingales -were singing in a copse, and, now and again, the voices of the boatmen -could be heard on the river and, sometimes, the splash and drip of -their oars as they touched the water. - - -[Illustration: "He could hear her words distinctly."--_p_. 506.] - - -The night was so still that, though Sylvia Thorne spoke now in little -more than a whisper, he, standing below and gazing up at her, could -hear her words distinctly. - -"You will not go," she murmured; "you will not go, leaving me here. -Ah! well, you are truly brave and daring." Then, releasing the -tendrils of a passion flower growing round one of the great pillars, -with which she had been playing, she held out her hand while -continuing: - -"A wilful man must have his way; but, at least, go now. Farewell. -Goodnight." - -While, as Bevill turned away and went towards the gate, she murmured -to herself: - -"Lord Peterborough should be proud to call you cousin, to have chosen -you as his emissary." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -Turning to look round once more, and to again salute Sylvia as he -reached the gate (at which he found the ancient gardener waiting to -let him out and make all fast when he had gone), he saw that the girl -still stood upon the balcony and, through the darkness of the night, -was looking towards the spot he had now reached. The flare of the -candles in the large candelabra within the hall streamed out of the -great open door, making a patch of light behind Sylvia and causing her -to stand out clearly before his eyes. By this he could perceive that -she was leaning against the pillar and looking down towards where he -was, and that behind her head the passion flowers gleamed white, as -though forming a setting to it. - -Then, while doubting whether she could see his action, he nevertheless -raised his three-cornered hat again, and so passed out into the road -between the great gate and the river. - -Once beyond the gate, however, he paused, and, dropping his hand to -his sash, took his sword-handle in it and softly drew the blade up and -down in the sheath to make sure that it ran loose and free. - -"Francbois," he said to himself as he did so. "Francbois, Emile -Francbois! 'Tis strange I did not recall his name before. And he is -here in Liege. Also, he loves Sylvia, and would be loved by her. So, -so; that way trouble may come. Od's heart!--soon we shall have as good -a comedy here--or will it be a tragi-comedy?--as ever George Farquhar -or Mrs. Centlivre has written. Well, we will see to it." - -Continuing his way towards the "Gouden Leeuw," and continuing it -warily too, for he knew not whether from behind some wall, either of -warehouse or solid, comfortable mansion, he might not see in the -moonlight a pair of dark eyes glinting at him, or the phosphorescent -sparkle of a rapier's blade that an instant later might be making -trial of his coat's thickness, he also continued to muse. - -"Sparmann at Antwerp and then at St. Trond--what was it seized on that -vagabond and caused him to hold his hand and disappear?--and now -Francbois here! Francbois, who was at the Lycee in Paris with me--the -boy I sometimes beat for his impertinence regarding my countrymen, and -to whom I sometimes gave a trifle for doing my impositions. And I did -not know him this evening! Ah, well, 'tis not so strange either. -Thirteen years have changed him much. If they have done the same for -me, it may be that neither does he know me. And yet--and yet--I would -be sworn he did. One glances not at another as he glanced at me -without having good reason for't." - -As Bevill Bracton reflected, so the matter was. This Emile Francbois, -this man who had stared so at him on the Quai as he went towards the -Weiss Haus--this man who had undoubtedly followed him to that house, -and peered in through the bars of the gate while evidently aghast at -discovering that the other, whom he knew to be an Englishman, was also -known to the woman whose love he desired--had been a schoolfellow of -Bevill's in Paris. - -And, now, the latter recalled him, as he had done from the moment -Sylvia uttered his name. He recalled the slight, sickly-looking boy -who came from Limousin and dwelt with a priest outside the Lycee--the -boy who told tales of his comrades both inside and outside of school -that often earned for them beatings and punishments. Also, he recalled -how preternaturally clever this boy was, how easily he mastered -lessons and subjects that other scholars stumbled over, and how he -made money by his wits, by doing the lessons and impositions of those -others for them. - -"The man is," Bevill continued to muse, "what the boy has been; the -boy is what the man will become. I doubt me not that as Emile -Francbois was, so he is now. Crafty and clever, fawning and malignant. -Ready to obtain money by any unclean trick. He knows my name; he will -not have forgotten it--if he has, he will soon recall it. If there is -aught to be earned by betraying, by denouncing me, then he will do it. -I must find the means of silencing him. Yet how? Shall I give him -money, or, better still, this," and he fingered the quillon of his -sword as thus he meditated. - -"So he loves Sylvia, does he?" he went on, as now he drew near the -'Gouden Leeuw,' "and she despises him. Ah! 'tis very well; the game is -afoot. If she does not set out soon for England with me, it is as like -as not that I shall never set out at all. All the same, I will take no -trouble in advance." - -After which he entered the inn, though not before he had looked well -around to see if anyone--if Francbois--might be hovering near to spy -on him; and so went to bed and slept peacefully. - -Meanwhile, among many others in Liege who that night, as every night, -were full of thoughts and anxieties as to what was soon to take place -either in it or outside it, Sylvia Thorne was one. The Weiss Haus was -closed now for the night, the great hall door barred firmly, with, in -the house, some of her menservants keeping watch by turns. For these -were truly troublous times. At any moment the French might be attacked -by some of the forces of the Allies, in which case they would in all -probability instantly enter the city and quarter themselves wherever -accommodation might be found. Therefore, all property was in imminent -danger; at any moment the burghers old houses might be turned into -barracks and their warehouses into stables, their granaries taken -possession of, and their servants used as the beleaguerers' own. - -To-night, however, all was peaceful; the city was very quiet; -excepting only the distant sounds that occasionally reached Sylvia's -ears from the French lines--the call of a trumpet or bugle and, -sometimes, the hoarse challenge of a sentry in the Citadel, or the -Chartreuse, borne towards her on the soft evening breeze--nothing -disturbed those who slept or watched. - -Seated in her own room, with the window set open for coolness, Sylvia -was thinking deeply over the sudden appearance of Bevill Bracton, and, -womanlike, she was dreaming over that which never fails to appeal to a -woman's stronger senses--a man's bravery, the more especially when -that bravery has been testified, aroused, on her behalf. - -Now, though still she knew that he had set out upon this perilous -journey towards her--this undertaking whose risks had scarce begun as -yet--intent on doing something gallant that should earn the -approbation of Marlborough when it came to his ears, she did not put -that in the balance against him. For, womanlike again, she told -herself that, no matter what his original object might have been in -entering on this task, no matter that he would as willingly have taken -part in some terrible siege or fought unaided against a dozen foemen -as endeavour to assist her, now her own personality was merged in his -great attempt, it must be she, and not his prospects, that would -henceforth be paramount. - -Even had Sylvia not thought thus, even had it happened that Bevill -Bracton, sojourning in this beleaguered city, had chanced to hear that -she might stand in need of help, and, hearing, had proffered that -help, she would have admired his prompt, unselfish chivalry as much. - -"'I stay here with you,'" she murmured now, repeating the words he had -uttered. "'We leave together or remain together.' Ah, my Lord -Peterborough," she murmured, "you spoke truly when you wrote that you -sent a knight to me, a sentinel to keep watch and ward for me." - -She put her hand now to the lace she wore, and, drawing forth the -Earl's letter, read it again, as she had done thrice over since she -had entered the house after hearing the last footfall of Bevill -Bracton in the road when he left her. It ran: - - -"SWEET SYLVIA, - -"War is declared now. Well I know that, placed as you are, your -situation is precarious. You will be alone in Liege; your house, your -goods, your own fair self in jeopardy. For the first two it matters -little. You may close the house up; dispose of the merchandise to some -of the steady burghers amongst whom you dwell. But you--you, my -stately, handsome ward! You must not be left alone. What shall become -of you? Now read, Sylvia. There was with me to-day one who, as Will -Shakespeare says, seeks his reputation--a restoration of it--at the -cannon's mouth. You knew him once; he has played with you oft in your -childhood. 'Tis Bevill Bracton, once of the Cuirassiers, who lost his -colours because our late sour Orange contemned him for wounding of a -Hollander who had insulted his service. He is young, yet steady and -calm; what he attempts to do he will do unless Death seizes on him. -Therefore he will attempt to reach you, to assist you to leave Liege, -to put you in security either in some of _les villes gagnees_ by us, -or in England itself. In return for which, use him; above all, trust -him. He will be your very knight, your sentinel to watch and ward over -you. Accept his service as he proffers it to you, the service of a -gallant gentleman. He seeks his restoration to his calling, I say; -that is the guerdon he aspires to for his pains. It may be that he -will win another, sweeter to wear than either corselet or plume. Yet -of this I would fain not speak. Only, above all, be merciful. Be not -too grave nor solemn--not more so than becomes a maiden placed 'midst -difficulties. Be gracious as you ever are, yet not too kind; above -all, veil those glances that even I, Mordanto, could not resist were I -as young as your cavalier that is to be. - -"This for the last. He bears your miniature about him. I will be sworn -he will know your lineaments well long ere he reaches Liege. And still -one more last word. In your fair hands will be all his earthly -chances, even unto his life; his future career, when he has found you. -Make no false step that may mar his plans; hesitate not when he -suggests the road to safety; hamper him not. Follow where he will lead -you; it will not be astray. That soon may I welcome you to Carey Villa -is my prayer. That is if I, who long to draw the sword against these -French once more, be still thwarted and refused. Farewell. Out of my -love for your dead father and mother and your young self, I pray -heaven to prosper you. - -"PETERBOROUGH AND MONMOUTH." - - -Sylvia let the letter fall to her lap as she finished the reading of -it, and sat gazing out of her window across the river beyond the -garden wall, while watching, without seeing, the stars that twinkled -in the skies; while listening to, without hearing, the nightingale -answering his mate or the swirl of the water against the bank. - -"All his earthly chances, his life, his career in my hands," she -whispered at last, "when once he has found me. Alas! on me there falls -a heavy charge. And 'hesitate not when he suggests the road to -safety.' Ah, heaven, what shall I do?" - -As still she pondered over these words she became almost o'erwrought; -but suddenly it seemed as though some swift decision, some decisive -banishment of all doubt, had come to her mind. Springing up from the -deep chair in which she had been sitting for so long, she went to the -window and out on to the great stone balcony which it, in common with -all the other windows on the front, possessed: and stood there, gazing -towards the city in which, one by one, the lights were rapidly -becoming extinguished. - -"His life," she murmured once again, "his earthly chances in my hands. -His--the life, the chances of one so brave and gallant as he! Ah! and -my lord bids me not mar him, not thwart him, but, instead, follow him -where he leads. And still I hesitate--or--do I hesitate?" she went on, -whispering to herself. - -Then, an instant later, she exclaimed, "What am I? What? That which I -averred to-night I was not? A selfish woman! Am I that? Am I? Because I -am not in personal danger shall I forget the awful, hideous peril in -which he has placed himself in undertaking this task? Nay, never," she -said now. "Never! Never! Perish the thought! To detain him here, as -detain him I shall if I refuse to go, means detection, ruin, death for -him. Oh! oh! the horror of it! And on my head! But to go--if heaven -above prospers us--may mean at least escape from this place, may -doubtless mean the reaching of the English or Dutch forces. Safety! -Safety for him! I am resolved." While, as Sylvia spoke, she struck the -stone parapet of the balcony lightly with her hand. "Aye, determined. -To-morrow--for to-morrow I shall surely see him--I will tell him so. I -will tell him that I fear for my safety--the pretence is pardonable -where a brave man's life is at stake--that we must go. All, all is -pardonable so that he be saved!" - -On the morrow she did see him again, though not as early as she had -anticipated she would do. Yet she knew there was a reason for his -absence, and that a strong one. - -From daybreak there had been a strange, unaccustomed stir through all -the city--a stir that made itself noticeable even here on the -outskirts. The Liegeois seemed to have arisen early, even for them, -and were gathering at street corners and on the stoops of their quaint -houses, and under market-halls that stood on high wooden posts. Also, -on the river, there was more movement than usual; boats were passing -up and down more continuously than they had done before; all was life -and movement. - -Sylvia, who had herself risen early after a somewhat disturbed night, -was now regarding as much of this as possible from her balcony. On the -opposite bank she could see the rays of the morning sun strike on some -objects that glistened and sparkled beneath it, and recognised what -those things were--breast-pieces, corselets, the lace on scarlet or -blue coats, the scabbards of swords, and, often, the bare swords -themselves. She heard, too, the sounds of drums beating and bugles -sounding; while, from across the water, there came orders, issued in -sharp, decisive tones, and, next, pontoons filled with soldiers -crossing the river and disembarking at various points on the other -side. - -After seeing which Sylvia descended to the hall and asked those who -were about downstairs what all the movement and excitement meant. - -"It is the French coming into the city, Juffrouw," one of the -servitors replied. "They say the Earl of Athlone's forces draw near, -that Kaiserswoerth is taken by the Allies. Also they say----" - -"What?" Sylvia exclaimed, impatient of the man's slow, stolid speech. - -"That the great English commander, Marlborough, has come; that he is -in Holland; that ere long he will march to relieve Liege." - -Sylvia turned away as she heard these words, and went out slowly into -her garden and sat down in an arbour placed half-way between the house -and the great gate. - -"Will this," she mused now, "tell for or against his chances--our -chances? The city will be occupied by the French, instead of having -them outside of it. Alas! alas! it will be against those chances. He -runs more risk with the streets and inns full of French officers and -soldiers than with none but the townspeople inside the walls. Also, -the difficulties of exit are multiplied now. Heaven send the English -forces here at once or keep them away until we are safely out of -Liege." - -Thinking, pondering thus, the girl sat on for some time, though at -intervals she would return to the house to give some orders or to ask -if there were any further news from outside. In this manner the -morning ran away and the day went on; but, at last, when Sylvia began -to be alarmed at the absence of the man for whose safety she was so -concerned, she saw that he was before her. Raising her eyes, she -observed that he was standing outside the gate gazing in at her. - -This gate, as always of late, was kept locked, the key being left in -the lock on the inside; and now, full of some feminine fear or -instinct which seemed to hint that while Bevill was outside the gate -he stood in more danger than if he were inside, with the great -structure between him and those who might seek to harm him, she went -swiftly down and turned the key, while bidding him come in quickly. -Pushing with his shoulder one of the great halves of that gate, he had -soon done as she bid him, while she, holding out her hand to him, -exclaimed: - -"You have not--not been--oh! Danger has not threatened you?" seeming -to gasp a little as she spoke. - -"Nay, nay; why should you fear?" he replied. "Though that you should -do so is but natural. The French are sending in two of their regiments -the better to hold the town if their out-lines are driven back; yet -you will not be molested?" - -"I--" Sylvia said, though now she spoke in a more self-constrained -voice--a voice that, maybe, had in it a colder accent, "was not -concerned for--for--but no matter. I did but deem that with the city -full of French now you might have been--troubled--molested." - -"Ah, forgive me. I misunderstood your thoughts. Now," he continued, "I -have brought you news that may be either pleasant to you or otherwise. -Marlborough is in Holland." - -"I know," she said, as she led him out of the glare of the sun towards -the cool shade of the hall. "I know. Yet it may be that this news is -none too pleasant. I--I--had resolved last night to quit the city, as -both you and my Lord Peterborough think it best for me to do; to -consult"--and as she spoke her voice seemed even more grave, more cold -than before--"_my safety_. Now it may not be so easy to perform." - -"I' faith," Bevill said, with a smile, "easy is not the word. The -gates are barred against all and everyone. Short of being a French -soldier there is no exit from Liege now." - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -Though the approach of the Allies had not taken place within a week -from the time when it was supposed to be near, and was at least -premature, the two regiments of soldiers--that of La Reine and that of -Les Gardes Francaises--as well as two squadrons of the Mousquetaires -Noirs, remained in the city. To supply these with temporary barracks -some of the large warehouses on the quays had been occupied by the -French (who, however, spared all dwelling-houses), and amongst them -were Sylvia's warehouses. - -But the proximity of these troops had rendered the Weiss Haus no -longer an agreeable place of residence to her, and, consequently, she -had accepted the oft-repeated invitation of Mynheer Van Ryk and his -wife to occupy their house with them. Neither the would-be host or -hostess were, however, aware that she had come to the determination of -quitting Liege at any moment that an opportunity should arise. - -Nor, indeed, would it have been easy for Sylvia to explain her reason -for thus desiring to be gone. If she had stated that it was her -intention to escape out of the city, the sober-reasoning minds of the -Van Ryks would simply have formed the opinion--which was, in absolute -fact, the one she had herself long since arrived at--that she was far -safer in Liege than she would have been in quitting it and traversing -a land now swarming with contending armies. - -Yet how would it be possible for her to, on the other hand, inform -them that her reason for departing was not that of self-preservation -at all, but, instead, of consulting the safety of a man who, in his -desire to serve her, no matter what the origin of that desire was, had -placed himself in terrible peril? - -One person existed, however, who was well aware of all Sylvia's -thoughts and intentions; who could understand the nobility of the -girl's mind in deciding to quit a place in which she was in no -likelihood of danger, simply with the view to the preservation of a -man who might at any moment be exposed to the greatest of dangers. -Consequently, this person, who was the Comtesse de Valorme, not only -admired Sylvia for her intentions, but, since she herself was equally -desirous of quitting Liege for her own purposes, had decided not only -to render assistance to the undertaking, if it were possible to do so, -but also to form one of the fugitives. - -"Yet," said Sylvia to the Comtesse, as now they talked over the -determination they had both come to, "fresh troubles arise at every -step. 'Twas but this afternoon that M. de Belleville"--for so both -ladies spoke of Bevill for precaution's sake, though the Comtesse had -known for days that he was an Englishman--"confided to me that M. -Francbois was once at school with him in Paris, and that he can by no -chance have forgotten what his country is nor what his name is." - -"Where should the trouble be?" the Comtesse asked. "Francbois is a -crafty man, especially when craft may serve his purpose. But here it -will serve none. Were he to denounce M de Belleville, it might, in -truth, lead to the latter's downfall, but would not enrich him. Your -friend would be tried as a spy and----" - -"No, no! Say it not!" Sylvia exclaimed, with a shudder, understanding -well enough what the next word must have been. "Say it not. Think how -nobly, how chivalrously, he has found his way here." - -"It would not enrich Francbois," the Comtesse repeated; "therefore he -has no reason to betray him." - -As she spoke these words, however, Sylvia knew very well that -Francbois had not only one reason for betraying Bevill, but had very -plainly told her that, if driven to desperation, he would undoubtedly -betray him. - -Living in the same house that Sylvia was now in, since he too was a -connection of the Van Ryks, Francbois had countless opportunities of -pressing his suit with her, and these opportunities he did not -neglect. And then, after he had discovered that not only was this -Englishman, whom he hated in his boyhood, here in Liege under a false -name and nationality but, as he had also learnt, was in the habit of -seeing Sylvia frequently, he had added to this discovery a very strong -suspicion that he was an English admirer, if not lover, of hers. But -that there was any intention on their part of quitting Liege he did -not as yet imagine. Even so, however, he knew enough. - -This Englishman, passing as a Frenchman, was, he admitted, handsome, -gallant, and _debonnaire_--a man whom any woman might well love and be -proud to love. And Sylvia, he remembered, had refused all the -addresses that other men had attempted to pay her, including his own. -She was ever cold, stately, and almost contemptuous of men's -admiration. Yet now, now that this man had appeared, they had been -much together, as his own observations had shown him--was it not -possible that, in her frequent visits to England with her father, she -had met this countryman of hers and learnt to love him, and that now -he was here, not only to carry on his suit, but also to be with her in -time of trouble? He knew too that, although Bevill had not yet entered -Van Ryk's house, he had met Sylvia and the Comtesse on the quays and -in the public gardens of the city. He did, indeed, know enough. - -Therefore, this very day, he had spoken plainly to the girl--so -plainly that, without indulging in any actual threats, he had made her -see clearly how much there was to fear from him if she still refused -to listen to his protestations, his desire to obtain her hand. - - -[Illustration: "This very day he had spoken plainly to the -girl."--_p_. 513.] - - -"What does he threaten, what hint at?" the Comtesse de Valorme asked -as she listened to all that Sylvia told her; while, as she spoke, -there was a strange look in her eyes. - -"He threatens nothing, yet suggests much. He said but this morning -that a word to M. de Violaine, who is in command of the Citadel----" - -"Monsieur de Violaine! De Violaine! The Brigadier! Is he in command of -the Citadel?" - -"Why, yes. So Monsieur Francbois said. Do you know him?" - -"Ay, very well, for many years. He is, like me, from the South. So! A -hint to him. Well! What is this hint to convey? What harm is it to -do?" - -"To cause Mr. Brac--M. de Belleville to be arrested as an Englishman -passing as a Frenchman, and doubtless, in the French mind, as a spy. -To be tried as the latter--to be executed. Ah, no, no, no!" Sylvia -concluded. "Not that--surely not that." - -"Let him denounce your compatriot to M. de Violaine. Bid him do so -when next he makes his vile suggestion. Only, to the defiance add -this: ask him if he knows to what faith M. de Violaine belongs; ask -him if he knows which man the Governor of the Citadel would deal -harder with--an Englishman passing under the garb of a Frenchman, or a -Frenchman who is----" - -"What?" - -"Ah! well, no matter for the present. Also, on second thoughts, do not -ask him that. Instead, say: Madame de Valorme is a friend of M. de -Belleville. He who injures him incurs her enmity. It will be enough. -Now tell me, when do you expect to see your countryman again?" - -"He is coming to-night to see us both. Alas! he may not come in open -daylight, since he recognises that it is not well for him and -Francbois to meet here face to face. But still he would fain see you, -since you have promised to leave the city with us, if such a thing can -be accomplished; also he comes to tell us how stands the chance of our -succeeding." - -"When does he come?" - -"At nightfall. Knowing that Mynheer keeps his bed of a quinsy, and -Madame stays with him, while Francbois has gone to see his friends at -the Jesuits' College----" - -"Ah! his friends at the Jesuits' College," the Comtesse repeated -quietly. - -"Monsieur de Belleville will come in by the garden gate. It may be, he -says, that he will have discovered some chance, or, at least, have -conceived some scheme whereby we shall be enabled to leave the city -and make our way to the Allied Forces." - -"Does he know my mission, the reason why I so ardently desire to see -Lord Marlborough? Does he know why I so long to cast myself at that -commander's feet--to beg him, to implore him on my knees to send the -long-promised aid of England to those of our persecuted faith in -Languedoc? To send it now--now--when France is attacked on all sides, -when England and Holland are hemming her in with bands of steel in the -north, when Prince Eugene is hurling his armies against her in Italy. -For now is the time. Now! Now!" - -"He knows," Sylvia said, touching her friend's hand gently. "I have -told him." - -"And does he know the rest? All. Have you told him that?" - -"Oh, do not speak of it! Do not think of it! Ah, Radegonde!" -addressing the other by her Christian name. "Do not speak of it, I -entreat you." - -"Not speak of it! Not think of it!" the Comtesse exclaimed, while as -she did so her eyes were wet with tears, her cheeks being also as wet -with them as leaves bedashed with rain, her whole frame being shaken -with emotion. "As well bid me not dream of it night by night, nor let -my existence be broken with unhappy memories. Not think of my father's -death--my father, an old, grey-haired, feeble man!--in the dungeons of -Nimes--my father, who, had he not thus died, would have been broken on -the wheel. Not think of that! Nor, perhaps of my husband----" - -"Oh, Radegonde!" - -"----sent to the galleys, beaten, driven to his doom even as he sat -lashed to the oar. He! young, gallant, an honest, God-fearing man! And -all for what? For what? Because they and thousands like them--all good -and true subjects of this tyrant Louis, of this priest-ridden, -woman-ridden Louis--did but wish to worship in their own way! Not -think of it! My God! shall I ever cease to think of it?" - -"Nay, do not weep, I implore you," Sylvia exclaimed. "The English will -help; so, too, will all the Netherlands. All who think and worship as -those in the South worship will help. And soon, soon, freedom, peace, -must come. An end must come to all their sufferings." - -"Does he know all this?" the Comtesse asked again when her passionate -sorrow had somewhat spent itself. "Does he? If not, he must do so. -Otherwise, what will he deem me--me, a Frenchwoman seeking to reach -Marlborough, the most hated, the most feared foe of France!" - -"He knows," Sylvia whispered, "and, knowing, understands all." - -But by now the night was near at hand. Through the great, open, -bow-shaped window of the solid Dutch house was wafted the scent of -countless summer flowers, the perfume of the roses, now dashed with -the evening dews, mingling with that of many others. Also the sounds -that summer always brings more plainly to the ears were not wanting; -the birds were twittering in the trees ere roosting for the short -night; from the Abbey of St Paul the solemn sounds of the great bell -boomed softly while the silver-toned carillons joined in unison. In -other of the city gardens close by the voices of little children could -be heard as they played their last rounds ere going to their beds, all -unconscious, or, at least, unheeding, in their innocence that they -were in a beleaguered city that, if war's worst horrors rolled that -way, might ere long be the scene of awful carnage and see its old -streets drenched with blood. - -"It is the time, Sylvia," the Comtesse said, "that he should come. Is -the gate unlocked?" - -"Nay, not yet. I will go and see to it." And Sylvia, passing through -the low window and down the steps to the garden, went along the -neatly-kept path towards where the gate was. - -Then, at the moment she was about to turn the key in the lock, and, -next, to leave the solid wooden gate an inch ajar, so that, when -Bevill came, he might push it open as he had done more than once since -she had taken up her abode in this house, she heard a footstep outside -in the lane--one that she had already learnt to know well enough! - -"Ah," she exclaimed, turning the key quickly and drawing back the -door, while she held out her hand to Bevill a moment afterwards. "Ah! -you have come." - -"To the moment," he replied, taking her outstretched hand and bending -over it. "Did I not say that I would be here before the carillon had -finished its chimes? And here am I! Yet--yet--almost I doubted if it -were well for me to come to-night----" - -"You doubted that!" Sylvia exclaimed, while stopping on their way -towards the house to look up at him. "You doubted if you would come! -Knowing how we were waiting here, how we were expecting your coming!" - -"Ay, knowing what danger lurks near to you; to your desire and that of -Madame de Valorme to quit Liege. Also, in a lesser degree, to me, -though that matters not----" - -"That matters not!" the girl exclaimed, repeating his words again, -while in the dusk he could see her starry eyes fixed on his--eyes that -resembled the stars themselves gleaming through the mists of summer -nights--"that matters not!" - -"Danger," he went on, unheeding, though not unobserving, "if Francbois -knows my movements, if he knows that we meditate aught like flight -from Liege. Have you not told me of his unwelcome desires and -hopes--of his----?" - -"Hark! Stop!" Sylvia whispered, interrupting him. "Listen. There is -another footstep in the lane. It may be he--following, tracking you. -And the gate is open! Heavens, he is there! The footfall stops. If his -suspicions are aroused he will halt at nothing. He will denounce you!" - -"Will he? We will see to that. Go back to the room, welcome him as he -returns----" - -"But you? You! The danger is yours, not mine." - -"I am safe. I fear nothing." - -"Ah, yes; when he has entered you can escape, can leave by the door. -'Tis so. Farewell until to-morrow. Farewell." And as swiftly as might -be, the tall, graceful form of Sylvia sped back to the room while -Bevill, crossing the grass plot, entered an arbour at the side of it. - -"Ha!" he said to himself. "Escape! Leave by the door! She does not -know me yet. Escape!" and as he spoke he drew still further within the -darkness of the arbour. - -Neither he nor Sylvia had been too soon in their action. Looking -through the interstices of The vines which were trained to grow -outside the open woodwork of the arbour, Bevill saw that Francbois was -advancing up the path towards the steps leading to the open window of -the old room. - -As he did so, however, a reflection entered his mind which caused him -to wonder if, after all, there was any connection between Francbois' -doing so and his own visit. The man lived here with the Van Ryks. -Might it not be, therefore, that this was his ordinary way of -returning home? A moment later, however, Bevill recognised that this -could not be so. The gate was always locked inside at night; as was -the case with himself but just now, and on former visits during the -week, it had to be unlocked from the inside for entrance to be -obtained. - -"Francbois comes this way to-night," he muttered, "because he knows, -has seen, that I too did so!" and as he so thought he brought his sash -a little more round and felt to discover if his sword ran smoothly in -its sheath. - -Meanwhile, the other had entered through the open window of the room, -and had found Sylvia by herself, since the Comtesse must have quitted -it for some purpose during the time the girl had gone to unlock the -gate. He could see that she was by herself, for the lamp, which had -been brought in some time earlier, was turned fully up. - -"Mademoiselle is alone," Francbois said, though as he spoke his eyes -were peering into the corners of the room that, in spite of the lamp, -were in partial darkness; and also peering, as far as possible, behind -the great Java screens. "Alone!" - -"Apparently," Sylvia replied in the usual indifferent tones she -adopted towards this man. "Madame de Valorme was here a moment since." - -"Madame de Valorme!" Francbois echoed. "Madame de Valorme alone?" - -"Whom else did you expect to see?" - -"One whom I had good reason to suppose was here--your 'French' friend, -Monsieur de Belleville." - -"Your eyes prove to you that your supposition is wrong." - -"Surely he has entered the house. I followed behind him on my way -here." - -"He has not entered the house. That you 'followed' him I do not doubt -And, even had he entered the house, which as I tell you he has not -done, you are not the master of it. Also, Mynheer Van Ryk, who is, has -bade me welcome here any whom I desire to receive." - -"It is incredible!" Francbois said. "Incredible. He passed down the -lane before me. And--and--that door," pointing to one which led out of -the room into a small library or study, "is not fast shut. And there -is a light within." - -"Monsieur Francbois," Sylvia said very quietly, and now she stood -before him drawn to her full height, stately, contemptuous, as an -affronted queen might stand, "if you choose to believe your own -thoughts as against what I tell you, do so. Look in that room and see -if my 'friend,' Monsieur de Belleville, is there. Only, from the -moment you have done so, never dare to address one word to me again. -There," extending her arm, "is the door. Enter the room and observe -for yourself. Afterwards, you will doubtless search the house." - - -[Illustration: "'Enter the room and observe for yourself.'"--_p_. -515.] - - -Vacillating, uncertain how to decide; sure, too, that his eyes had not -deceived him, Francbois knew not what to do. If he looked in the room -and did not find the Englishman, then his remotest chance with Sylvia -was gone for ever; while, if he did find him there, his recollection -of Bevill's earlier character told him that he would have to pay a -heavy reckoning for his curiosity. Yet, how could the man be there? -Would Sylvia have bidden him enter the room had that been so; would -she have bidden him do that which must stamp her as utterly untruthful -should the Englishman be found? - -Still halting, not knowing what to do, he nevertheless took a step or -two towards the library door, while observing that Sylvia's glance was -fixed contemptuously on him; then, suddenly, he exclaimed, "I will -know!" and advanced close to the door. - -At that moment it opened wide and the Comtesse de Valorme appeared. - -"You see," she said, speaking with withering scorn, "I am the only -person the room contains. Now do as Sylvia suggested--search the -house." - -"Monsieur Francbois need scarcely trouble so far as that," a voice -said from the foot of the garden steps, while all turned their eyes on -Bevill standing below. "I have heard enough to know that he seeks an -opportunity of speaking with me. Monsieur Francbois, I pray you to -descend. I, too, must have some talk with you. Afterwards, we can -arrange our affairs pleasantly, I do not doubt. You understand?" -looking at Francbois. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -Francbois, his face become suddenly ashy, as both ladies observed, -from the moment he had heard Bevill's voice and saw its owner standing -at the foot of the steps, nevertheless did as he was invited and went -out to the verandah. Then, seeing that, without any further word or -sign, the Englishman was slowly making his way towards the gate, he -followed him. Yet once the thought came to his mind as he did so, "If -this were not the garden of the house wherein I dwell, if those women -were not there, how easy 'twould be--now, as he walks ahead -disdainfully--to put him out of my path, for ever." While, as he thus -thought, his hand itched to draw the spadroon at his side. - -In the room which he had left, the women were now standing at the open -window, gazing down at the figures of the retiring men. On Sylvia's -face there was a look of intense anxiety, of nervousness--an -expression that, on the face of a woman of less heroic mould, might -have been construed into one of fear. But, though this look was not, -truly, one that depicted fear, the agitation that possessed her whole -being was the outcome of fear. Not for herself--that could never -be!--but for him--him--the man whose every path, every footstep, was -day by day and hour by hour becoming more environed and beset by -danger. - -"And the bitterness of it all is," she thought to herself, "that the -danger need never have arisen. I was safe. Short of this city being -besieged by the English and fired by grenades or bombarded, or sacked -and destroyed by the French in their rage, naught could harm me. Yet, -to protect me, to shield me from harm, as he deemed in his chivalry, -danger surrounds his every movement, his whole existence. How-- -how--shall I therefore save him, how repay him in turn? If we -cannot leave this city, if I cannot save him by the pretence, the -make-believe, that he is saving me--oh! what shall become of him? -What?" - -"They have passed out through the gate," the Comtesse said at this -moment. "They----" - -"What! is he going to kill him? To force him into a duel?" - -"'Twere well he should do so," the Comtesse de Valorme said in a hard, -dry voice that sounded strangely in Sylvia's ears, or would have done -so had she not been too agitated to observe the tone of the other. -"Very well it would." - -"Radegonde! How can you speak so of one allied to you, one dwelling -beneath the same roof as you? He has not harmed you; he is only -dangerous in so far that we fear the harm he may do." - -"While Francbois and Monsieur de Belleville inhabit this city there is -no safety for your friend. I know Francbois. He is treacherous, subtle -as a snake, and--and--it is much to his interests to have M. de -Belleville removed from--well, from your companionship." - -"Why?" the girl asked, looking at her companion. "Why?" Though, as she -spoke, there came to her face the rose-blush that had but recently -quitted it. - -"You should guess why as easily as I. M. de Belleville," the Comtesse -continued quietly, "is the representative of your guardian. Do you -imagine that, holding this office, he would look with approval on -Francbois' desires to--to--ah! you know what he desires." - -"If," said Sylvia, speaking now with her usual calm, "neither my -guardian nor Monsieur de Belleville had any existence, M. Francbois' -desires would be no nearer their attainment. Ah," she exclaimed -suddenly, "what is that? Is it the clash of swords? Listen!" - -"I heard nothing. The night is tranquil; there is no sound. Sylvia, -you are overwrought, overstrung. What do you fear? Such as Francbois -cannot slay one such as he, except by treachery, by betrayal." - -"If I fear aught it is that he should slay Francbois. I would not have -a gallant gentleman stain his sword with the blood of such as that man -is. I would not have Monsieur de Belleville bring fresh trouble, fresh -risks of danger on himself." - -That Sylvia was, indeed, overwrought must have been the case since, -undoubtedly, she could have heard as yet no clash of swords proceeding -from the spot which the two men had reached some minutes before. - -When Bevill Bracton, followed by Francbois, had passed through the -gate giving from the garden into the lane, he had continued for some -paces until, arriving beneath the foliage of a tree that protruded -over the wall of another property, he halted and, turning round, faced -the other. Then he said: - -"Monsieur Francbois, you remember me. We were at school years ago at -the Lycee Saint Philippe. You have not forgotten?" - - -[Illustration: "'Monsieur Francbois, you remember me.'"--_p_. 553.] - - -"I have forgotten nothing. You are an Englishman. Your name -is--_peste!_--I--I know it, yet for the moment it has escaped me. -Nevertheless, I shall recall it." - -"It would be best that you should not endeavour to recall it," Bevill -said, looking down on the man--and there was light enough for -Francbois to see that the glance was a stern, determined one. "Also -that you do not intrude on my affairs. If you do so, it will be -dangerous for you." - -"Dangerous for me!" the other exclaimed, with a contemptuous laugh. -"For me! On my life, monsieur, it is not I who stand in danger here. -Liege is dominated by the French, and I am a Frenchman. You are an -Englishman. Your life is not worth a fico if that is once known." - -"Short of you and what you may do, it cannot be known. Now listen to -me. I am here in the garb of a private man, desiring not to draw my -sword either in the disputes between your country and mine, or in -personal quarrel. But that sword lies against my side ever ready to -leap from its scabbard--as it will if I am thwarted in what I have set -myself to do; if I am betrayed or falsely denounced by anyone--by you, -since there is no other here who can do so. Ponder therefore on -whether it will profit you to thwart, to betray me." - -"_Ohe!_" Francbois exclaimed in a light and airy tone, which was -probably but a poor outward sign of what his inward feelings were. "If -it comes to drawing swords--ay, and crossing them too--there are -others who can do as much. We Frenchmen know something of the -swordsman's art. Witness how you English cross the Channel to take -lessons in it from us." - -"That is true. I myself took those lessons, and I have profited by -them." - -"Ah I it may be so," Francbois said, though the recollection of this -fact, which for the moment he had forgotten, did not add much to his -equanimity. "But as for the betrayal! Once betrayed, a man has little -chance of avenging himself on his betrayer. The rat in the cage cannot -bite his captor." - -"He can bite him before he is caged. Now listen to me, Francbois. If I -supposed to-night that you came into that house with a view to -betraying me, you would never return to it. I know, however, why you -followed me to it, why you were resolved to discover if I was within -it. I know that you pester Mademoiselle Thorne with your -addresses----" - -"And I know," Francbois exclaimed, stung beyond endurance at the -contemptuous tones of the other, "that you are an English lover of -hers; that you have come here to be by her side, to endeavour, if it -may be so, to remove her from Liege to your own land." - -"It is false. I am no lover of hers. Except when she was a child of -ten I have never set eyes on her until I did so here a week ago." - -"It is very strange," Francbois sneered. "You found your way, made -your entrance, to the Weiss Haus with ease. From the balcony -Mademoiselle Thorne extended you a gracious welcome, bade you enter. -Is it the habit for English donzelles to extend such cordial greetings -to every passer-by? Do----" - -But he stopped, seeing that he had said too much, for he had gone too -far. - -For the moment Bevill Bracton said nothing, yet his action was, -indeed, louder than any words could have been. His hand drew forth his -sword, lightly he ran the glittering blade across his left cuff; then, -pointing with his left hand to the weapon by Francbois' side, he -uttered one word--the word "Draw!" - -"What if I refuse?" Francbois asked. - -"Your fate will be the same, therefore you must defend yourself. You -rogue," he went on through his teeth, "you dare to make aspersions on -my countrywoman! You dare--you!--such as you!--to raise your eyes to -Sylvia Thorne and, to make yourself safe with her, as you suppose you -can do, you intend to denounce me to the French here. So be it. Only -there shall be no betrayal. Either you remove me from your path now -and for ever--now, this very instant--or I put an end to all your -hopes and all your intended treacheries." - -"You had best beware," Francbois said, and Bevill perceived that there -was a laugh in his voice--a laugh that was half jeer, half sneer. Also -he observed, and the observation surprised him, that there was no fear -in the man. If he was treacherous and crafty--a villain--at least he -was a bold one. - -"Far best," Francbois continued. "I have crossed the Alps in my time. -Monsieur may have heard of the _stoccala lunga_ and the _botte -secrete_ and other strange passes taught in Italy----" - -"Ay," said Bevill, "as well as the _botte des laches!_ I will essay -them. Doubtless it is the latter I have most to fear. Monsieur I am -your servant. _En garde_." - -And now, through the calmness of the night, the two women must have -heard--sorely they heard--a sound not often familiar to women's ears, -yet one that, once heard, especially in such days, could scarcely be -misunderstood, even if not fully recognised. - -A sound not unlike the hiss of the hooded snake as it glides towards -its victims--or, as one of those old Italian fencing-masters has -described it, "water hissing on hot iron." Also they must have heard -the "tic-tac" that steel makes as it grates against steel--a sound -that is not noise. And once, also, they must have heard a voice, the -voice of Francbois, ejaculate, "Ah!" - -"They are engaged," the Comtesse whispered hurriedly to Sylvia. -"They----" - -"Engaged!" the girl replied. "He and that man! Oh, Radegonde, hasten! -Come! Come, ere it is too late." - -"Ay," Madame de Valorme exclaimed, "Francbois is a master of fence. -Monsieur de Belleville's life is too good for such as he to take." - -Then, together, they sped down the garden path and through the gate -into the lane. - - - -But now the scraping of the steel had ceased, while the obscurity of -the night beneath the overhanging tree was such that they could -scarcely perceive the figures of the two men. Yet that they were there -they knew. The darkness of the lane could not disguise their presence. - -"Stop!" the Comtesse said, advancing towards the deeper gloom that -stood out in that darkness and testified to, at least, the figure of -one man. "Stop, I command you. Monsieur de Belleville, hold your hand. -Francbois, if you injure him, you are lost!" - -While uttering these sentences in a clear voice, though in a somewhat -incoherent manner, she, followed by Sylvia, reached the spot where the -men were. - -That Bevill was uninjured the Comtesse and Sylvia recognised at once. -He was standing upright in the middle of the path between the hedges, -and in his hand he held his sword, point downwards to the earth; on -which Sylvia murmured, "Thank Heaven above!" as she recognised this to -be the case. - -As for Francbois, he, too, was standing upright, only his sword was -not in his hand; and now both ladies heard Bevill say: - -"As for your _lungas_ and _bottes_, Monsieur Francbois, truly they are -not wonderful. A somewhat strong wrist and a trick of disengaging has -defeated them. Pick up your weapon and sheathe it: we will renew the -matter elsewhere." - -"Nay," the Comtesse said, "you will not renew it. I," she continued, -"have that which should render Emile Francbois harmless. Come," she -said now, turning to the other. "Came, follow me some steps farther -down the lane. I must speak with you, and at once. Come," she said -again, and this time she spoke in a tone that plainly showed she -intended to be obeyed--a tone that would have required no great effort -of imagination on a listener's part to cause him to suppose that a -disobedient dog was being spoken to. - -"You are not hurt?" Sylvia asked softly, as she stood alone with -Bevill and looked up at him through the density of the night--a -density that now, however, the swift rising of the moon was -dispersing. "Oh! I pray not." - -"In no way," Bracton replied. "He plays well, yet his defence is weak -in the extreme--and it may be that the darkness was my friend. But, -Sylvia," forgetting his courteous deference for the moment, yet -observing, as he recalled himself, that either she had not remarked -his utterance of her name, or heeded it not, "but I have left him -free--free for harm, for evil." - -"I think not. It would appear the Comtesse has some hold over him, -knows something that may keep him silent; yet, nevertheless----" - -"Yes--nevertheless?" - -"We--we must go. Escape! I--we," she went on, speaking tremulously, -"are not safe. I am afeard." - -"Afeard? You? Yet you have told me the French, even though the worst -befall, will not hurt a woman." - -"I have changed my thoughts. It is--a--woman's privilege to do so. I -would put leagues and leagues betwixt myself--betwixt us--and Liege: -betwixt us and all this land ravaged by war and contending armies. -I--I--cannot bear to remain here longer. In truth, I fear--I am sick -with fear." - -Remarking Sylvia's strange agitation, an agitation so strangely -new-born, so different from the calm indifference and absence of all -apprehension which she had testified when first he reached her, Bevill -could not but wonder at the change that had come over her. For now she -was but in little more danger--if any--than she had been a week past. -There were, it is true, the rumours that the Allies were drawing near, -that Kaiserswoerth had fallen to them, that Nimeguen had either done so -too or was about to do so, that Marlborough was hastening to take -chief command of all the forces. Yet what mattered this! She, like -every other woman in all the land, in every hemmed-in, beleaguered -town and city, was safe from personal violence--safe as a child -itself. - -"And she knew it," he thought, as he gazed at the outlines of Sylvia's -face, now plainly visible in the light cast by the moon through the -leafy branches of the great tree. "She knew it, and she knows it -still. What is it she fears? What fear has come to her?" - -Suddenly he asked: - -"Is it Francbois you fear?" - -For a moment Sylvia did not answer, turning her head away instead, but -saying in a whisper a moment later, "Yes." - -"And I have let him live--live, when I might have slain him without -effort," while adding the next instant, "How can he harm you? No man -can force a woman to listen to his plaint, to accede to it. And I--am -I not by your side?" - -"Ah, yes," she whispered again, while murmuring next through closed -lips some words he did not catch--words that almost appeared to sound -as though they were the words "Knight" and "Sentinel." - -After which, speaking more clearly, Sylvia went on, "Still I would -fain depart. Ah! let us go." - -"In spite of my protection! Through fear of Francbois?" - -"In fear of Francbois--yes," looking straight into his eyes, while -adding inwardly, "Fear of him--for you." - -"But Liege, the exit from Liege, is forbidden to all except the -French, since all others would avail themselves of the opportunity of -divulging the disposition of their forces round the city and in the -city also. It is impossible to go." - -"Yet you are French--are supposed to be French. You have the means -wherewith to be De Belleville, the _attache_, or Le Blond, the -mousquetaire. You can baffle suspicion with your knowledge of their -tongue, with your accent." - -"Nay; I could not baffle a true Frenchwoman, the Comtesse, whatever I -may do with these Netherlanders. Neither could I deceive a -mousquetaire, and Francbois knows I am an Englishman. I will not go. I -will not expose you--and Madame de Valorme to the danger of travelling -with me the few miles necessary, to the danger of endeavouring to pass -out of Liege." - -As he uttered these words it seemed to him that there came a low, yet -swiftly suppressed moan from the girl's lips, and, looking down -wonderingly at her while not understanding--for had she not said that, -come what might, all women were safe in Liege--he was about to ask her -why his determination moved her so much, when the Comtesse and -Francbois returned to where they stood. - -"Emile will not divulge your nationality," the former said now to -Bevill. "He--well, I have persuaded him. Is it not so!" addressing -Francbois. - -"Monsieur de Belleville may rely on me. He--he--misunderstood my -intentions," Francbois replied, holding out his hand to Bevill. - -Owing possibly to the darkness, the young man failed, however, to see -that hand, whereon, a moment later, its owner allowed it to drop to -his side. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -At this time the excitement in Liege among those who were shut up in -it and also among the French who lay around it, as well as in the -citadel and Chartreuse, had become intense. For the latter knew by -despatches from their field-marshals and generals, and the former from -those who, in spite of the besiegers' vigilance, still managed to pass -in and out of the city--when they were not caught and promptly hanged -at one of the gates--that the Allies were more or less triumphant in -the engagements that took place with their foes. Athlone had already -defeated detachments of the French in several encounters; -Kaiserswoerth, if not already fallen into our hands, must undoubtedly -soon fall; Nimeguen, the frontier town of the United Provinces, was in -the same condition, and Venloo was in a very similar one. - -Yet all heard--the French with anxiety, and the whole of the -inhabitants of Holland and the Netherlands with joy--of something -more. The Earl of Marlborough had undoubtedly arrived and after a -considerable discussion--in which such various and remarkably diverse -personages as the King of Prussia, the Archduke Charles of Austria, -the Elector of Hanover, and the Duke of Zell, including, of all -persons in Europe, Prince George of Denmark, supported by his wife, -Queen Anne, had all aspired to the commandership-in-chief--he had been -appointed to that high post. - -Marlborough, as the French very well knew--and the knowledge of which -they did not disguise--had never yet lost any skirmish, battle, or -siege at which he had commanded. His present foes could not know that, -during the whole of his long military campaign in the future he was -never to lose one solitary skirmish, battle, or siege, and was to -stand out amongst the great commanders of all time as the single -instance of a soldier who had never experienced defeat. - -The fact of this general's presence near Liege, since now he was -marching on Kaiserswoerth to assist Athlone, was amply sufficient to -induce the French to tighten their hold over all places at present -under their domination. For their marshals and generals remembered him -as colonel of the English regiment in the service of France, as well -as what he had done in the Palatinate under Turenne; their King at -this time, growing old and timorous, remembered that once again -Marlborough had offered his sword to France, had asked for the command -of a French regiment--and had been refused. Now Le Roi Soleil -remembered that refusal, and recognised that it had raised up against -him and his country the most brilliant and powerful enemy France had -ever had to contend with. - -Consequently, in Liege as elsewhere, no living soul who was not French -could quit the city except by cunning or strategy; it was useless to -attempt to do so. Also, pickets patrolled the streets day and night, -sentries were posted on the walls with orders to shoot any who could -not give the password; boats, filled with armed men, patrolled the -river, making inspection of all and every craft upon it; watch fires -burned around. On the other hand, none were molested nor their houses -visited; trade was carried on as far as possible in the city, though -only such trade as was necessary for provisioning the inhabitants and -supplying such food as was already inside the walls, since nothing -could now enter them. - -"You see," said Bevill to Sylvia one morning at this period, which was -now the middle of June, as they talked over all these things, "how -impossible any attempt to leave Liege would be. We could not get as -far as one of the gates without being stopped and subjected to -rigorous examination." - -"If it were not for us," the girl said, looking at him, "you could -doubtless do so. - -"What!" he exclaimed, looking at her in turn. "What! You suggest that? -That I, who came here to enable you to leave this place, should now -consult only my own safety and go away again while leaving you behind? -Oh!" - -"Ah, forgive me, but--but--I do so fear for you. For us there is no -actual danger; I am an inhabitant of the city; the Comtesse de Valorme -is a Frenchwoman. But you--oh, it is terrible--terrible!" - -While, as Sylvia spoke, there came to her mind another thought to -which she quickly gave utterance. - -"If it is dangerous," she said, "to attempt to leave Liege, is it more -so to you than remaining here? Once outside you would, at least, be -free from the treachery of Francbois." - -"The treachery of Francbois! Do you still fear that?" - -"Yes. No matter what hold the Comtesse may have over him--and that she -has one is undoubted--if he wishes to betray you he will do so." - -"Yet why wish to do so?" - -"Ah!" Sylvia exclaimed, and then was suddenly silent, her eyes -lowered. - -For how could she tell him that which she knew must be the motive of -any treacherous act Francbois might perform; how tell him that which, -she thought, he should have divined for himself? She could not tell -Bevill that Francbois declared him to be his rival, the obstacle to -his hopes with her; that he believed that they had met often in -England, that they loved one another. - -But still she thought he should have understood. Meanwhile, though -this divination came not, as yet, to Bevill's mind, there sprang -suddenly to it a light, a revelation. - -He saw, he understood, that it was his safety she alone -considered--not her own. - -He recognised the nobility of her character, the self-sacrifice she -was ready to make in being willing to quit a place where, if the -discomfort was great, her personal security was almost certain, so -that by acting thus the one chance of his safety, the one road to -it--if any such road existed--was open to him. And in recognising -this he also recognised another thing--a thing that he had not dreamt -of, not suspected in himself, but that he could no longer doubt -possessed him. He understood that, from the first, he had been drawn -towards this girl not more by her beauty and stately grace than by -her womanly attributes, her lack of thought for herself, her noble -self-respect and her personification of honest, upright, English -womanhood. This English womanhood, valiant, self-contained, was -fearless through consciousness of lacking every attribute that could -attract evil towards her; strong because girt with woman's strongest -armour--innocence. - -And now he knew that, day by day, he had been gradually, though -unperceived by himself, learning to love her; he knew that as she had -said those words. "I do so fear for you," and not only had said them, -but had testified to their truth by the anxiety for his safety that -she showed, he was no longer beginning, learning to love her, but -_had_ learned to love her. - -"What shall I do?" he asked himself as they sat on this summer day in -her host's garden. "How act? Now is no time to tell her what has -sprung full grown into my heart. Honour bids me be silent, and I must -obey. No word, no plea, must come from me until she stands free and -unfettered in her, in our, land. I must draw no interest, no credit, -from having placed myself here in a position of danger on her behalf, -'specially since the danger is not to her--but to me. That may procure -me her esteem and regard; it must not be used as a means whereby to -win her love." - -Therefore he did not repeat his question as to why Francbois should -wish to betray him, but, when he had concluded the above reflections, -contented himself with saying: - -"I must not, will not, go hence. Since you aver there is no danger to -you here, so shall there be none to me. I promised the Earl that I -would enable you to quit Liege; seeing there is no need nor call for -you to go, I remain also." - -"You misunderstand me," she said. "The danger may be small, but the -existence is unbearable. I do most earnestly wish to go, to attempt to -reach England; yet I know. I feel--it is borne in on me--that if I -attempt to do so, to reach the allied forces or the coast in your -company, I shall bring harm to you; and--and--oh!" she said, "I could -not endure that. But by yourself alone you may pass safely. Oh, go, -go, go!" - -"It is impossible. No more can I pass out alone than with you and the -Comtesse." - -"What is to be done?" Sylvia almost wailed. - -"We can stay here. Here, where I am in no danger----" - -"Not from Francbois!" she exclaimed, recalling again to her mind that -which Bevill had undoubtedly not dreamt of--the fear that Francbois -deemed him his rival and would stop at nothing to remove him from his -path. "Not here," she went on, "where any stranger who enters the -'Gouden Leeuw' may chance to recognise you." - -"It is improbable; yet, even so, I can leave that hostel." - -"But where can you go? Here you would be welcome in the garb of one -who was of much assistance to Madame de Valorme, as one who is my -friend, my would-be protector; yet--there is Francbois to contend -with. While, if you choose another inn, the danger would be as great -as at the 'Gouden Leeuw.'" - -As Sylvia uttered these words she saw by Bevill's face that some fresh -idea had sprung to his mind, that he was thinking deeply. - -"What is it?" she asked. "What?" - -For a moment he did not reply, but sat with his eyes fixed on hers, -then suddenly he asked: "You have said that I can escape alone; and I -know, I feel as sure as you yourself, that together we cannot escape. -But what if----" - -"Yes, yes," she whispered, stirred to excitement at his words. - -"What if I should go alone, and you and the Comtesse go together, we -meeting outside the French lines?" - -"Ah, yes. That way! Yes, yes! What more? Tell me. Oh, tell me!" - -Still speaking slowly, deliberately, so that she understood that he -was thinking deeply as he spoke, that he was weighing carefully each -word as it fell from his lips, he said: - -"Your house is now deserted. There is no servitor there?" - -"None," she answered, "excepting only the gardener, the old man you -saw. He dwells in a little cottage some distance behind. What is your -plan?" - -"This. It may be best that I withdraw from the 'Gouden Leeuw.' -I--I can leave it at dusk, as though with the intention of passing out -of the city. The people of the house deem me a Frenchman, and -therefore hate me. They will not regard my departure as strange; -while, if it were well to confide in them, they would not betray me. -It was so with the landlord at Antwerp who, in truth, saved me. It -might be--would be so here, if needed. The French are their -oppressors; they look to the English to save them from the French." - -"And afterwards?" Sylvia asked almost breathlessly. "Afterwards?" - -"I should not leave the city--then; but if, instead, I might find -shelter in your house for some night or so----" - -"Yet how will you live with none to minister to your wants? How -support your horse?" - -"I must confide in the gardener. He, like the rest here, is heart and -soul for us, for the English. As for what remains to do, there shall -be no light in the house at night, and I will lie close and snug all -day. Thus Francbois will be deluded into the thought that I am gone. -If he has hoped to gain aught by my presence here, he will soon learn -that he has missed the mark." - -"And for us--for Radegonde and myself? What shall we do? She is a -Frenchwoman, armed with all passes necessary; but I am an -Englishwoman, although resident in Liege. It may be they would not -harm me here, even if the worst comes to the worst--if the Allies -besiege the town, if the French are all driven into it; yet, since I -am English, neither will they let me go forth, fearing what -information I might convey outside." - -Again reflecting for a moment, while still his eyes rested on the -soft, clear beauty of the girl whom now he knew he loved, though, in -truth, he was not at this moment thinking more of that beauty than of -how he might contrive that he and she should escape together out of -this city, he was silent. Then he said: - -"The Comtesse is free to go or stay as pleases her. They will not -prevent her from doing either. Yet her domestics remain; they cannot -go. If she is persistent in reaching Marlborough or Athlone, she -cannot travel accompanied by that company. She is in the heart of war, -she will be surrounded by troops of all denominations. If she goes, -she must go unaccompanied or almost unaccompanied." - -"She is very resolute. She will go. If only to throw herself at the -feet of our great generalissimo and plead for succour for those in the -South." - -"Accompanied by one maid, or companion, or attendant, she would pass -unnoticed; while I, dressed in more sober clothes than these I wear, -might pass as follower--as a humble servant from the South. Thus -should I risk less chance of detection from any tone or trick of -voice." - -"Ah!" Sylvia exclaimed, again stirred to excitement as Bevill unfolded -his ideas. "But the attendant, the companion?" - -"Why, yes, the attendant," he replied. "And would you disdain to play -that part? Could you bring yourself for a few days, one day or two at -most, to sink yourself and your dignity----" - - -[Illustration: "Springing to her feet and with her blood on -fire"--_p_. 559.] - - -"Ah, ah!" the girl exclaimed, springing to her feet and with her blood -on fire--quicksilver--now at the scheme his suggestions unfolded -before her, at the prospect of safety--for him, above all for -him!--that they opened up. "My dignity! Ah, it shall be done! At once! -Yet, no," she went on; "not at once. It cannot yet be done; there are -precautions to be taken." - -"What precautions?" - -"That you should have safe entry to my house; also, be safe in it. And -yet," she added regretfully, "you will be so solitary and alone." - -"It will not matter, so long as I find the means for our escape; yet -what other precautions are needed?" - -"Above all, that of your safety, since 'tis you alone who stand in -danger; yet, still, some other precautions too. The Comtesse's -following are all bestowed at the 'Kroon,' there being no place for -them here. They must be warned to hold their peace until the Comtesse -returns, as she may do--alone. And, further, there is that firebrand, -Francbois. He cannot have the dust thrown in his eyes in one day. He -must not know that, as you are gone, so, too, are we; or that we are -going too. For that would arouse his suspicions once more, and -suspicion with him would lead to deadly action. Also I must see old -Karl, and bid him leave open a door in the Weiss Haus and in the -stable too, and--and provide sustenance for you. Our knight," she -added softly, "must not die for want of nourishment." - -"You think of all--of all others but yourself," Bevill murmured. - -"Ah, no! I think only that he who risks his life for me should have -that life cared for by me." After which, since perhaps she did not -desire that this portion of the subject should be pursued, she -continued: "When do you purpose putting your plan in action? When will -you commence seeking shelter in what will be but a dark, gloomy -refuge?" - -"At once--the sooner the better. If Karl can be warned by you to-day, -then I will go to-night. If danger threatens from Francbois, it will -not grow less by being given time to grow and thrive." - -At this Sylvia was herself silent for a moment, as though wrapt in -meditation. Then slowly she said: - -"It may be best--very well it may. Francbois is away from home to-day; -he sleeps sometimes at the Jesuit College----" - -"The Jesuit College? Is he a Jesuit?" - -"He may be, so far as a layman can be one, if that is possible. But I -do not know. At least, he is greatly their friend, and is, Madame de -Valorme thinks or knows, used by them for their purposes. It is in -this that she has some hold over him which may keep him silent. The -French do not love them." - -"And he is away from this portion of the city to-night?" - -"Yes." - -"So be it. To-night is the night of nights for me. If I can enter the -Weiss Haus after dark, I will do so. I do but wait your word." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -The Weiss Haus lay that night beneath heavy black clouds that rolled -up from the west in threatening masses, and, of a surety, foretold -rain ere morning. Also there was the feeling in the air of coming -rain, of some storm that was swiftly approaching, or rather was close -at hand. The earth of the flower beds exuded a damp, moist odour, the -perfume from the flowers themselves--many of them tropical plants -brought from far-off Dutch possessions--was now a faint, sickly one -which spoke of what was near, while the leaves of the trees, after -hanging lifeless for some minutes, would then suddenly rustle with a -quivering noise as a cool, wet wind swept through them. - -But now, gradually, the clouds, edged with an opal shade which hinted -that, from afar off, the late moon was rising behind them, banked -themselves into thicker and thicker masses, while from them fell some -few drops of rain--the heralds of a coming deluge. At this time, too, -the darkness all round the square, white house became more profound, -so that the mansion looked like some great, white stone gleaming in a -setting of ebony. Under the trees which bordered a great drive that -swept round the Weiss Haus the darkness was still more impenetrable, -and was so dense and thick that here nothing could be perceptible -against the deep obscurity unless it, too, was white or gleaming. - -Yet one thing there was that nevertheless glinted occasionally from -out the gloom--a thing that only those accustomed to deciphering such -signs would have recognised as the startled glare of an eye; and that -not the eye of a human being, but of an animal--an animal made more -nervous than was natural to it by the presence of the approaching -storm and also by the deep muttering of the thunder. - -"She will neigh in a moment," a man holding the creature's bridle said -to himself, while drawing off his cloak as he did so, and whispering -soothingly to La Rose, since it was she. After which he placed the -cloak over her head. "That must not be," he continued. "This house is -deserted by everyone. A horse's presence here would tell any who might -be about that something strange is happening." - -Bevill led La Rose now towards where he knew the stables were -placed--towards where, also, he knew a door would be open, since -Sylvia had told him an hour or so ago that the old servitor had been -warned of what was to be done; and, in spite of the mare shivering all -over in her nervousness at the approaching storm, he managed to induce -her to enter them. Arrived there, his hands told him that the manger -was full of fodder and the rack above well filled with hay, as was -also the bucket with water; and then, having eased her of the saddle -and bridle and replaced the latter by a halter, he pondered as to -whether he should leave her or not. The key was in the stable door, he -had discovered, so that he could secure the mare from harm--if harm -should threaten--yet, should she neigh in terror at the storm, her -presence would be known, and, perhaps, his also. - -Suddenly he came to the determination to remain with her until the -storm had passed. The night was cool now, it was true, yet the stable -was warm, and it was well littered down. In his earlier campaigning -days he had slept in worse places than such as this. To resolve his -doubts, at this moment there came a vivid flash of lightning, a -terrific crash of thunder broke over the spot, and a moment later he -heard the rain falling in a deluge, while La Rose whimpered and moaned -and gave signs of neighing. - -Standing by her head, stroking her soft muzzle, whispering to her, he -contrived, however, to soothe the creature so that, at least, she did -not neigh, while, staying by her till at last the storm had rolled -away, he contrived to reduce her to calmness--such calmness, indeed, -that at last he felt her neck drooping over the manger and knew that -she was feeding. - -"But still I will not leave her," he reflected. "Who can tell but that -another storm may follow swift upon the one now gone; also, if by any -chance I have been tracked from the 'Gouden Leeuw,' if it is known -that I am here, what would an enemy's first act be? To prevent my -further progress! To injure the one thing that can carry me to safety, -that can alone enable me to assist Sylvia and the Comtesse." - -Whereupon, since the precautions that he, with every soldier, had long -learnt to take as regards his charger were well remembered, he lay -down now upon the straw in the next stall--so that he might be well -out of the reach of La Rose's heels should she become again -excited--and prepared to pass the night there, knowing that his voice -would be sufficient to soothe her. - -In spite, however, of the fact that the mare was now quite tranquil, -except that once he heard her hoofs stamping in the straw and once -observed that she was drinking from her bucket, he could not sleep, -his thoughts being much occupied with two out of many things. The -principal of which things was that, by the blessing of heaven, it -might be granted to him to lead this girl in safety back to their -own land; another the love that had sprung into his heart for her; -while still there was a further thought, a thought that was truly a -fear--the fear that, much as he had now come to love Sylvia, there -might be no respondent love in her heart for him. - -"Gratitude, yes!" he said to himself. "That is already there; -also, it may be, a tender hope, a gentle dread for me and of my -successful issue out of the conditions I have surrounded myself with. -But--love? Ah! how shall I know? Her calmness, her dignity will give -no sign that will help me on my way to the knowledge I desire; while, -when the time comes for me to speak, what will her answer be? 'Tis -well that that time is not yet, not now, since were it so my fears of -failure would so much unnerve me that I should also fail in all else I -have to do." - -One other thought arose, however, in his mind and set him wondering at -a subtle change that had taken possession of him--a change caused by a -great desire that now triumphed over what he could not but deem at -this time a lesser one. - -He recognised that, strong as had been his hopes that his present -undertaking should lead him back to the calling from which he had been -wrongfully cast out, those hopes were now but secondary, even if as -near as secondary, to a greater, a more supreme one--the hope that he -would win the love of Sylvia Thorne, win her for his wife. - -And as he so thought it may be that he reproached himself. For he was -a man, and, being one, knew that he should set his career, his honour -in the world's eyes, before a woman's love! - -As thus be became immersed in such reflections as these--reflections -that, he doubted not, had driven away all hope of slumber for the -present--an incident occurred that instantly dispelled those musings, -that stirred him once more into a man of action. - -Upon the deep tranquillity of the night--since now the storm had quite -passed and, as he could see through the mica panes of the stable -window, the late risen moon was shining clear in the heavens--he heard -a door close violently within the Weiss Haus--close violently while -sending out into the silence a heavy, dull thud such as a noise made -in a shut-up house sends forth. As that noise reverberated he heard La -Rose's halter shaken suddenly as by a start, and a tremulous whinny -issue from her. - -Quieting her with a gentle word as he rose from the position in which -he had been lying, and going towards her as he spoke, Bevill's -attention was still strained to the utmost for any further sounds. -Yet, now, all was still, the night was undisturbed by any noise. Even -from the warehouses some three hundred yards off, which were filled -with French troops, there came nothing to tell of their presence. - -"Can my ears have been deceived?" Bevill mused. "And if not deceived, -how has that door closed thus? Ere I brought the mare from under the -trees I had made sure that the one at the back of the house was -closed, though unlocked, and it was not that door which shut so -violently, but one within. Why did it so? The wind has died down long -since; no current of air through any open window--if there were any -such, which is not to be supposed--could have closed it. What is best -to do?" - -An instant later he had determined on his action. He would enter the -house and discover what had caused so strange an occurrence on a night -that was so perfectly calm as this one was now. It might be, it was -true, an occurrence for which he would be able to discover an -absolutely plain explanation; but if it were not so, then it were best -he determined the cause of it. - -He spoke a few words to La Rose even as he drew his sword, intending -to carry it bare in his hand, and while hoping that Providence might -see fit to prevent her becoming frightened and, by her fears, calling -attention to her presence. Then he went forth from the stable door, -locking it behind him and dropping the key into his pocket. - -As he did so, he heard the clock in the Abbey church strike three, as -well as the sound of the other clocks striking one after the other, -and, also, the chiming of the carillons on the calm night air. - -"It is the time," he said to himself, "when those who break into the -houses of others seek to do so. It may, in truth, be some such as -they, or else an enemy, seeking me. Well," through his teeth, "it it -be Francbois, he shall find me--only, when he does so, let him beware. -If 'tis he, no _botte_ shall save him this time; and there is no -Comtesse now to help him." - -A moment later he stood outside the door at the back of the Weiss -Haus--the door of which he had said to himself a moment since that "it -was closed though unlocked." - -But now he discovered that it was no more closed than locked. Some -hand had opened it to enter the house, since even the wind could not -lift a latch--the hand of someone who had entered the house and -forgotten to shut the door behind him. Unless it had been purposely -left open, thereby to afford a means of easy exit! - -"And still it was not this door that shut with such a report," Bevill -reflected, "but one above," and slowly he made his way into the -interior of the house, while resolving to discover and make sure of -who the intruder was. Because all shutters had been close fastened ere -Sylvia left her house, and, discharging her servitors for a time at -least, gave afterwards the care of the place into the hands of old -Karl, the darkness was intense. - -Bevill did not know, therefore, where he was, though guessing by aid -of his knowledge of the mansion that he was now in the domestic -offices. Consequently he decided that, should he be enabled to -progress further without interruption from closed doors--or from an -enemy--he would ere long reach the hall. And then his way would be -clear before him. He knew the manner in which the stairs mounted to -the floor above. - -He went on now, running his hand along the wall of the room he was in -while touching on various shelves the ordinary array of utensils used -for preparing meals--dishes, jars, and so forth--and at last his -fingers lighted on another door, a door that, like the first, was open -an inch or so. - -"Whoever 'tis," Bevill thought now, "he leaves the road clear for his -return, for his escape. Yet that shall not be, or not, at least, until -I know who and what this lurking midnight intruder is." Whereupon he -drew the key of the door forth from the inner side of the lock and, -taking it with him, made fast the door on the other side when he had -felt for and found the key-hole; after which he went on, after putting -the key in his pocket. - -He discovered now that he was in a long, narrow passage, one having, -as his touch told him, doors on either side of it, all of which were -locked, and with no keys in the locks; but as he still progressed, -doing so gently on his tiptoes, he saw ahead of him a patch of -gleaming light, and he understood what that light was. He knew that it -was the moonlight on the marble-tiled hall, and that the moonlight had -found its way in from the great window on the first floor, the window -that served to light the hall by day, and by night, too, when there -was a moon. - -"I shall be upstairs," Bevill said to himself, "ere many moments are -passed. If you are there, my enemy, we should meet." - - -[Illustration: "He lifted the heavy brocade that curtained off the -passage."] - - -His sword in hand, he lifted with the other the heavy brocade that -curtained off the passage from the hall, and, observing carefully the -portion of it that was outside the great splash made by the moonbeams, -went on through the deepest shadow towards the lowest stair. Then, -keeping to the side of those stairs that was itself free of the rays, -he mounted to the first floor. - -"Now," he thought, "we are near close quarters, if it be not the wind -that has played at tricks with me. Above this floor is nought but the -servitors' quarters; short of being driven up by fear, Francbois will -not attempt them." - -At this moment Bevill saw that, suddenly, the great patch of moonlight -below was fading, and also that the light was obscured on the side of -the house that a moment before had been touched by it. Glancing up -through the roof-window, he observed the rim of a dense black cloud -passing beneath the moon. - -"The house will be in utter darkness again ere long," he said to -himself. "Ah, well! if I cannot thereby find my enemy, at least he -cannot see me. And I can return and wait for him at the door I have -but now made fast, if I find him not up here. There, he will not foil -me." - -As thus Bevill mused a step fell on his ear--a soft footfall, almost a -shuffling, halting one--a step that, in its creeping oncoming, caused -even creepiness to one so brave as he--a footfall that seemed ghostly -in its lagging progress towards where he stood. Yet, as the sound of -it approached nearer and nearer, he knew that, for the present, it was -not to his interest to obstruct whoever it might be that drew near, -but rather to watch, to follow, and at last bring to bay this -nocturnal intruder. - -The night itself aided him even as he drew back against the wall, for -now the darkness was profound and, also, the rain beat down pitilessly -on the great window; while the wind, risen once more, was again -howling round the Weiss Haus. But ever still he heard--or did he -feel?--that footfall drawing stealthily nearer and nearer to him. - -At last Bevill heard something also--something he could not -understand, something the meaning of which he could in no wise -comprehend. - -He heard a sliding noise upon the wall in a line with the spot where -his face reached, and he fancied that it was varied now and again by -something else which sounded like the light touch of fingers tapping -on that wall. - -"Whoe'er it is," he said to himself, suddenly recognising what that -scraping sound, interrupted by an occasional touch on the wall, was, -"he feels his way carefully. Let me be ready to greet him--ah!" he -ejaculated, lunging out straight before him with his sword, though -piercing nothing. "Ah!" - -Fingers had passed across his face: an instant later something long -and hairy had swept across his left hand, even as he lunged with his -right: still a moment later the sound of a figure springing down the -wide staircase fell on his ears; and, ere another moment had elapsed, -he was springing after it. - -But, even as he did go, he muttered to himself: - -"This is not Francbois! He had no beard. Who, then, is it? Ah! -Sparmann perchance!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -Some hours after the morning had broken grey and desolate, but with -still a promise in the heavens that the storms of the night were past, -Bevill Bracton arose from the great lounge in the hall on which he had -laid himself down and on which he had been enabled to snatch some -broken rest. For it was six o'clock ere he had deemed it prudent to -attempt this, and he had not even then done so until he had satisfied -himself that, whosoever the man might be whose hand had passed across -his face and whose beard had swept over his disengaged hand, he was -not present in the house now. - -While, however, discovering this to be the case, he had made discovery -of something else. He had found signs that this man had not been the -only visitor to the Weiss Haus beside himself, but that there had been -another. Also, he had arrived at the conclusion that each of the men -had come here on some secret purpose unknown to the other, and that -they had met in the dark and had fought with each other. What that -purpose was might not be hard to discover, he thought, yet, even so, -he could not resolve why, if both of these intruders were his enemies, -they should have come into deadly contact with each other. But that -this had been the case there was no room left for doubt. - -After chasing down the great staircase the form of the man whose hand -had crept over his face, he had, notwithstanding the fact of his -having locked the door at the end of the lone passage, missed his -quarry. In the darkness of the night that quarry had evaded him; in -the coming of the dawn he knew that it had done so effectively. He -made sure, in the grim light of the dayspring, that the house was -absolutely empty of all human existence except his own, doing so by -going into every apartment, large and small, that it contained. - -Observing carefully the direction from which the man came, looking to -see if his fingers had left any marks on the wall along which he had -felt his way in the dark, regarding the sides of the passage that ran -round the balcony over the hall, Bevill discovered some signs of that -man's advance towards him. He saw that, before this midnight wanderer -through the house had drawn close to him, he had come from the farther -or northern part of it. He perceived, also, at twenty paces from the -spot where he himself had stood listening to the approach of his -footfall, a shred, a wisp, of black ribbon lying on the floor. -Stooping to look at this, while doubting for the moment if it might -not have been some ribbon that had fallen from Sylvia's black robe ere -she quitted the Weiss Haus some ten days before, he understood that -such was not the case. The piece of ribbon had at its end a little -tag, showing that it came from some "point" or aglet of a man's dress, -worn either at his wrist or knee. He noticed, too, that it was clean -cut as though with a knife or other sharp weapon; while, picking it -up, he discovered that it was damp and that the dampness left a red -stain on the finger and thumb between which he held it. - -Then Bevill understood. - -"It is from the man's sleeve-point," he said to himself. "Another -man's rapier has cut it asunder ere transfixing his arm. There has, -indeed, been an encounter in this house." - -Going still farther down the passage, he came to an open room, a -little apartment that was more an alcove than a room in actual fact. -Here there was no longer a possibility of doubt left as to what had -taken place. A table of quaint Eastern make was half overturned and -leant against a wall, two chairs were entirely so, a man's hat lay on -the floor, and the carpet was splashed with blood. Also the window was -open to the balcony, and against the balcony there stood a ladder -reaching to it from the path below. - - -[Illustration: "A man's hat lay on the floor."--_p_. 699.] - - -"So, so!" Bevill said to himself, interpreting these signs easily -enough. "The one was here, the other came and found him, and--they -fought. Yet, it may be, each thought the other someone else and -thought me that someone. Whom else should they seek? 'Tis very well. I -have been shrewdly watched. Yet who were _they?_ Is that far to -discover? There can be but two in this land who thrust against my life -and security--the one whose grudge is undying, the other who deems me -his rival." - -He took up now the hat lying on the floor, and, in the dim light of -the rain-soaked dawn, turned it over and regarded the lining to see if -that might tell him aught. Unhappily, however, it told him nothing. -The day had not yet come for hat-makers to stamp their names inside -their wares, and there was no private mark to testify to whom this hat -belonged. - -"'Tis but a poor, common thing," Bevill mused, regarding the coarse -felt, the tawdry galloon and rough lining. "Doubtless 'tis Sparmann's. -Francbois apparels himself bravely; he would not wear such headgear as -this." - -Still continuing his reflections, Bevill arrived at all, or almost -all, that had happened. He concluded that in the darkness, and also in -the noise of the storm, each of these men had decided that _he_ was -the other man. Doubtless, therefore, Francbois considered he had -thrust his rival from out his path; perhaps, indeed, thought he had -killed him, while Sparmann, being wounded, probably deemed that his -old enemy had again defeated him, and so would decide to try no more -conclusions with such an invincible foe. - -"Wherefore," said Bevill, "I shall be safer here to-night than last; -neither victor nor vanquished will come again to molest me. Yet how -has Sparmann escaped from out the house?" while, glancing next at the -balcony and the head of the ladder resting against it, he added, "How -the other both came and went when his work was done is easy enough to -see." - -Determined, nevertheless, to discover the method of Sparmann's -evasion, he returned to the spot where he who was undoubtedly Sparmann -had passed him, and whence he had sprung down the staircase. Arrived -at this point, he saw that a sign, a clue, was ready to his eyes. - -In the now almost broad daylight, though a daylight still somewhat -retarded by the rain-charged clouds rolling away, he perceived that on -the white marble foot of the stairway there was a blood-stain and -still another to the left of it. - -"To the left!" thought Bevill; "and the door I locked fast is to the -right! 'Twas to that I returned. No great wonder that I lost him." - -And now all became as clear as noontide. - -"Doubtless when he came in he would leave the door open behind him," -Bevill pondered, even as he proceeded to the left of the staircase, -"thinking I was already in the house. Learning that he had not one but -two enemies to contend with, he may have feared to return the way he -came, not knowing but that a fourth might be awaiting him at the -entrance. Has he found an exit to the left, or has he dropped dead -before he did so? Here's to discover." - -After which Bevill proceeded down the corridor on the left, which was -a similar one to that on the right, though leading towards a -_plaisance_ which he and Sylvia had one day visited when the sun was -on the other side of the house. But the door opening on to this was -fast locked and bolted; whoever the man was who had escaped from him -he had not done so that way. - -Nevertheless, the mansion was empty of any other living creature than -himself, as now he made sure of by visiting every room and cupboard -that was open in the house. He could swear there was no human being -but himself within it, and, thus resolved, lay down upon the lounge -and slept--uneasily, as has been said. - -He had slept all the same, and so awoke refreshed, while noticing that -the ancient clock in the hall pointed to noon. To noon! And he -remembered he had not gone near La Rose since he discovered that the -place was deserted of its recent visitors. Chiding, reproaching -himself for this neglect--above all, for seeking rest ere going to see -his most precious possession, the one by which he hoped soon to put a -long distance between himself and Liege when once Sylvia and the -Comtesse were ready to set out with him, he now left the house by the -door on the right and went toward the stable. As he put the key in the -door while calling to the mare, his ears were greeted by her usual -whinnying, and, going up to her, he at once discovered that all was -well. No matter who or what those men were who had been able to track -him to the Weiss Haus, and to themselves obtain admission to it within -a few hours of the time when he had left the "Gouden Leeuw," they -either had not known his steed was with him, or, had they done so and -desired to harm her, had found no opportunity for harm. In that -respect all was very well. - -Filling La Rose's bucket for her now, and seeing that both rack and -manger were still well provided with fodder, he determined to return -to the house and there remain close until the evening came, at which -time Sylvia had promised that she would make her way to him -accompanied by Madame de Valorme. For then he was to learn what -provision they had been able to make for leaving Liege, and the time -when they would be prepared to depart. - -Between the stables and the house itself--or, rather, between the -stables and this back entrance to the house--there was a little copse -of trees and shrubs which had doubtless been planted some long time -ago with the intention of shutting off the view of the former from the -latter, and more especially from the windows of the back rooms on the -floor above, which, as Bevill had observed in his search through the -house, were furnished as small sleeping apartments. Through the copse -there ran a path straight to the door, one that was probably used by -the stablemen and ostlers in their going to and fro, and, also, it -would seem, as some little retreat in which the domestics might sit in -their hours of leisure. This Bevill judged, since there was a bench -built round the largest tree of all, and, also, there were some rude -wooden chairs which seemed to suggest that, once, they might have -occupied a more honourable position on the lawn or in the arbours of -the front, but had afterwards been relegated to the back. - -Walking slowly along this path when he had left La Rose, and doing so -because not only did the shrubbery and trees partly shelter him from -the fierce June sun, but likewise from any prying eyes that might be -on the watch, Bevill stopped with a start as he drew near the bench. - -For, seated on it, his bare head bent forward on his breast while his -limbs presented an appearance which combined at one and the same time -an extraordinary suggestion of extreme lassitude and extreme rigidity, -was the figure of a man. The man's garments, even in the full noontide -heat, looked as though they were soaked with wet; a man on whose -breast there hung down a long, iron-grey beard. - -"Who is that?" whispered Bevill, as he halted for an instant at this -sight, and the next went swiftly forward. "It is Sparmann! Is he -asleep--or dead?" - -His closer approach determined for ever any doubts he might have -entertained. One touch of his finger on the man's wrist--a wrist that -was pierced through and through, and, in the sunshine that peeped -through and danced on the quivering leaves, was as red as if -painted--told him that he was already cold. - -"Dead!" he whispered solemnly, fearfully, since, used as he had been -to the sight of and acquaintance with death in his campaigns, that had -at least been open death and not death dealt out in the darkness of -midnight. "Dead! Yet, I thank thee, Heaven, not at my hands. But how -has it come to him? How? That wound, bad as it is, would not slay, or, -at least, not so soon." - -Looking farther, however, at the dead man, he learnt whence his death -had come. Beneath the rusty beard he saw that Sparmann's poor, common -linen frills--doubtless he had been very poor of late--were all torn -asunder as though in the agony of some mortal spasm, and in his chest -he saw a great gaping wound that was enough to tell all. - -"So," Bevill whispered as he stood there gazing on his dead foe and -observing (as we so oft observe the most trivial matters in our most -solemn moments) how a butterfly settled on the dead man's hand for an -instant, as well as how the nether lip was caught between his teeth in -some final paroxysm of pain, and how wet and soaked his poor, shabby -garments were. "So this is the end of you--poor, broken soldier! Alas! -whate'er your failings you were a brave man once; none knew it better -than I who have crossed swords with you. Ah, well! you risked your -life last night to slay me--as I must think--and lost it, though not -by my hand, God be praised! Farewell. Death wipes out all bitterness." - -As the young man stood before the poor, dead thing, while feeling -naught but compassion for his end, there did spring to his mind the -recollection that, with Sparmann gone, one of two bitter foes was -swept from out his path. Yet, had he but known what a few hours were -to bring forth, had he but been able to peer but a little way into the -future, he would have recognised that Sparmann dead might work him -even more ill than Sparmann alive and seeking to slay him in the -deserted Weiss Haus in the darkness of the night. - -Now, however, his thoughts turned to present things, and he was -wondering, even as he still gazed on the dead man, what it was best -for him to do. - -If the body remained where it now was it might be probable that none -would pass along this path in the copse until he and both the ladies -were out of Liege and far off from it. But what if the opposite should -happen? What if 'twere known that he who was being tracked by Sparmann -had harboured here that night? What if---- Then, suddenly, he broke -off in these cogitations, disturbed by a slow, heavy footfall that -approached behind him. - -Looking round to see who the advancing intruder might be, he observed -old Karl coming towards him--old Karl, who, as he drew close to where -the living and the dead men were, asked, "Who is he? Does he sleep, -mynheer?" - -"For ever," Bevill said, answering the second question first, while to -the former one he made reply, "His name was Sparmann. He was a -Hollander once----" - -"Once, mynheer, once?" the old man's bleared, grey eyes glittering as -they looked curiously into Bevill's. "Can a man be born of one land -yet die the subject of its bitter foe?" - -"This man did so. He sold himself to France. He was a spy of France." - -"_Himmel!_ Therefore the enemy of us, of the land that gave him birth. -And yet, mynheer should be French--is French--and has slain him." - -"Nay. He was slain by--another--Frenchman, as I believe." - -"Here? In the garden?" - -"In the house. He was my foe. He would have slain me, yet the other -slew him. He, too, was foe to me, yet thinking that this one was I, -took his life." - -After which Bevill gave as much explanation as he considered safe to -the more or less bewildered old man. - -"Who was the other?" Karl asked, after he had grasped as much as -Bevill cared to tell him. - -"No friend of mine, I tell you; nor, which concerns you most, of the -Jouffrouw." - -"Ha! a traitor to his country, no friend to my young mistress. So be -it. He is better dead than alive. What shall we do with him? He must -not be found till you and the Jouffrouw are safely gone." - -"I know not. I am no ghost believer, nor am I afeard of the dead; yet -if I stay here another night or so I care not to have this man keeping -his silent watch outside the house." - -"Leave all to me. I have a tool-house near my cottage; to-night I will -remove him there. When you and she and her friend are gone he shall -have Christian burial." - -"It will bring no harm to you?" - -"Nay, nay. I have been a soldier. I can still wield a sword. Also, -when the magistrates know of his treachery they will ask few -questions. They will think 'twas I who found him in the darkened house -and slew him for a robber. All will be well. But--you must go soon, -very soon. That tale will only be good if told near to the hour of his -death." - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -No matter though their conquerors lay around the city--for conquerors -in one form the French and their auxiliaries were--and no matter -whether their grasp would tighten more and more upon the beleaguered -place, or be suddenly relieved and loosed by the English and their -allies as they advanced near to Liege, the inhabitants did not cease -to continue as far as might be their ordinary pursuits, and also their -relaxations. - -It is true, the business that they did was much curtailed: their silks -and satins, spices, and other tropical wares could now no longer reach -Liege either by water or land, or, having reached it, could not in -many cases enter. Also, it was true, the burghers could neither feast -nor drink as copiously as had once been their wont, since food was -required for the investors inside and outside the city, who took care -to be first served. - -But some things there were that neither investment nor a reduction in -rations, nor, which was the same thing, a tremendous increase in the -price of all rations, could prevent them from enjoying. Such things, -to wit, as their walks and promenades along the quays on either side -of the river or in the public gardens and places of the city. - -For which reason fathers and mothers still took their daughters out of -evenings and gave them an airing, and treated them to the coffee -drinking beloved of Dutch wives and maidens, while the men smoked -solemnly their pipes, since the city was well provisioned with such -things as coffee and tobacco, no matter how short it might fall of -fresh bread and meat and fish and vegetables. - -And, because the heart can ever remain light so long as the most -terrible calamities have not yet befallen that can well befall, and -can especially do so when the heart is young, the daughters and sons -of the honest Liegois would laugh and talk and sip their coffee under -the flowering acacias, while, through the eyelits of their masks, the -former would cast many a glance of curiosity at those whom they were -taught to hate and loathe. - -For now that the city, as well as the country that lay around it, was -filled with French soldiery, there would sometimes pass before their -eyes handsomely accoutred mousquetaires and dragoons, or sometimes a -fierce and swarthy Cravate, and sometimes a young cadet of the -regiment of Royal-Conde or of the superbly decorated Garde de la -Reine. And from the eyes that sparkled behind the half-masks would -be shot glances that told of one of two things--or it may be of -both!--namely, of hatred for the invader or of that admiration which -scarlet or blue, or gold and silver lace, scarcely ever fail to -extort. - -Beneath the leafy branches of some acacia and ialanthus trees there -sat this evening a group of four people watching all the promenaders, -native and foreign, who passed before them. One, the chief of the -group, was an elderly man who seemed more immersed in intricate -thought than concerned in what met his eyes. By his side was a lady, -herself no longer young, and, consequently, unmasked; a woman with a -sweet, sad face, who might have given to any onlooker the idea that -her thoughts were little enough occupied with the affairs of this -world--an idea that would, perhaps, have been increased in the minds -of those who should regard her by the appearance of delicate health -which her face wore. - -Next to her were two ladies, each masked and young, though one, if the -lower and uncovered portion of the face was sufficient to judge by, -was much younger than her companion. For surely the dark, chestnut -hair of this latter, as it curled beneath the broad-brimmed, -black-feathered hat she wore, while undisfigured by any wig or powder, -belonged only to a woman in her first blush of early womanhood. So, -too, must have done the tall, slight form clad outwardly in a long, -dark-coloured satin cloak, and the slim hands from which the white -gauntlets had been withdrawn. Also, the eyes that looked calmly -through the eyelets of the mask, the sweet yet grave-set mouth -beneath, and the white, smooth chin, would have told that here sat one -who was young yet sedate, beautiful but grave. - -As for the lady next to her, she too was grave and solemn, and, for -the rest, clad much the same as her companion. - -"And so," said the elderly gentleman, speaking now, though not until -he had looked carefully round the _bosquet_ in which they all sat to -see that there was no one about to overhear his words, "and so you are -resolved to go--both of you--and to inform your--your cavalier of your -determination to-night?" - -"Yes," the elder of the two masked ladies replied, "we are resolved. -If for no other reason than for the one that, while we remain, he will -not go himself. And, ah! he is too brave, too noble, to have his life -sacrificed by us. Is it not so, Sylvia?" - -"In very truth it is," the girl replied. "If he remains here he does -so at imminent deadly peril to himself; and that must not be. I, at -least, will not have it so." - -"Nor I," said the Comtesse de Valorme. - -"I do aver," Madame Van Ryk said now, with a half-smile upon her sad -face, "that Mademoiselle de Scudery and Madame de Lafayette might have -drawn inspiration for one of their romances from you. And--how strange -a working of chance is here! This cavalier sets forth to rescue a -maiden who, in plain fact, needs no rescuer, but in her turn is forced -to save the cavalier. Our Netherlanders have no romance. 'Tis pity! -They should know this tale." - -"Romance or no romance," Sylvia replied, "this gentleman shall throw -away no chance of safety, and it rests with me to prevent him from -doing so. Ah! ah!" she went on, "if evil should befall him through his -hopes of succouring me how should I bear my life?" - -Van Ryk shot a glance at his wife as Sylvia spoke thus--a glance that -the lady well understood--then he said drily: - -"At least he wins a rich reward, a rich guerdon"--and Sylvia started -at the word, remembering how the Earl of Peterborough had himself used -it, as well as in what sense he had used it--"in having gained your -interest in his welfare." - -"Should he not gain reward, does he not deserve it, remembering the -interest he has testified in my welfare? And he will do so. If I -should chance to stand face to face with my Lord Marlborough, he shall -know how much 'Monsieur de Belleville' aspires to wear his sword for -the Queen." - -"And so shall he know it from me," the Comtesse said, "if I, too, find -myself before this great commander." - -"We go together," Sylvia said. "If I obtain the ear of his lordship so -shall you." - -"What must be must be," Van Ryk said. "Now, see, the twilight is at -hand. Soon it will be dark. I will but call my wife's chair and send -her home, and then escort you to your own house. Monsieur de -Belleville will doubtless be awaiting your coming--your decision." - -Half an hour later the three stood outside the wall of the Weiss Haus, -by the side entrance that led past the stables and through the little -copse in which, that morning, Bevill had found Sparmann seated dead. - - -[Illustration: "Sylvia heard a soft, yet firm footstep on the path."] - - -Tapping on the door gently as she sought admission to her own house, -Sylvia heard a soft, yet firm footstep on the path a moment later. -Another instant and the door was opened, and Bevill stood before them. - -Then, when they had all exchanged greetings and Sylvia had asked him -how the previous night had passed, receiving for answer the -information that, after the storm was over, he had been enabled to -sleep, Bevill desired to know where they wished to retire to, there to -confer on any plans that she and Madame de Valorme might have decided -on. - -"Let us remain outside," Sylvia replied, "in one of the arbours. The -night is warm, and the sun to-day has dried the wet of last night. -Come," she said, addressing the others, "to the _bosquet_ on the lawn. -There we can talk in comfort." - -Upon which they proceeded along the path that ran through the -copse--there was no silent figure now on the seat around the great -tree, though Bevill could not refrain from casting one glance at the -spot where it had been in the morning--and so reached the arbour the -girl had spoken of. - - -One thing Bevill had determined on, and, in so doing, had also -impressed on old Karl, and this was that no word should be uttered to -Sylvia of all that had occurred in the house overnight. For he knew, -or, at least, already understood, that, should she be made cognisant -of these occurrences, no power on earth would prevent her from -instantly deciding to set out with him from Liege, so as, thereby, to -ensure, if possible, what she would believe to be his safety. Yet in -doing this she might not be absolutely ensuring his safety, while, -undoubtedly, she would be jeopardising her own. And he would not have -that. If Sylvia desired to go, she should go with him in her train, -but she should not go on his behalf. Never! He had come there to save -her, not to force her to imperil herself by saving him. That must -never be. While, for the rest, what mattered it to him now whether he -stayed here in danger, or, if she desired it, courted additional -danger by going with her? In either case he would be by her side -unless disaster came; while, if it came, he would still be near to, it -might be, shield and protect her, perhaps to save her. He would leave -the decision in her hands, would abide by her determination. He was -learning to love her--pshaw! _was_ learning! Nay, he did love her. -Nothing should drive him from her. As she decided so it should -be--short of her deciding to do aught that should part him from her. - -Now that they were all seated in the arbour, Sylvia at once began to -unfold her plans by saying: - - -"Mr. Bracton, the Comtesse and I have decided to quit Liege to-morrow -night." - - -"Ah, yes," he answered, seeing that, beneath the stars now twinkling -in the evening sky, another pair of stars, not less bright than those -above, were looking into his eyes as though expectant of his reply. -"Ah, yes. Yet are you well advised? Have you thought deeply on what -you do? You told me but a few days past that you were safe here, being -a woman." - -"Safe--yes, perhaps. Yet desperately desirous of leaving this -war-ridden land, of reaching my own; of imploring the assistance of -the Captain-General of our forces to put me in the way of doing so. -Also, I desire to snatch the chance of travelling with Madame de -Valorme, who is herself resolved to implore Lord Marlborough -to--to--ah! you know what her desires are." - -"As all know here," the Comtesse said. "There is no need for silence. -England has promised help to us poor Protestants in Languedoc, and, -for the help that England can give, Lord Marlborough alone can decide. -Today, he stands here as England, he is England; he is the one foe -whom Louis fears, the one who may bring Louis to his demands. And the -time is now. Environed east and west and north and south by his -enemies, England's help given in the Cevennes may free us from our -sufferings; may enable us at last to worship God in our own way, as -his grandsire allowed our people to do. I must see Marlborough. I -must! I must!" - -"Being resolved," Bevill said, "doubtless your plans for leaving Liege -are decided on. How have you determined to quit the city?" - -"For our purpose," Sylvia answered, "we are all French. You are M. de -Belleville, Madame is truly the Comtesse de Valorme, I am her maid." - -"Yet her actual maid is old," Bevill said. - -"They will not know that at the gate." - -"'Tis best," Van Ryk said now, speaking for the first time, while -remarking that the wind was rising and rustling the leaves behind the -arbour, "that you leave at a fixed time. The east gate is the last -left open, but even for the French themselves that is closed to them -and all and every as the clock from St. Lambert's strikes eleven, -after which none can enter or pass out. It will be well, therefore, -that you should meet the ladies," he continued, addressing Bevill, -"ere they reach the gate. If chance is with you all you should be -outside in safety ere the hour has struck." - -"Where and when shall it be?" Bevill asked. - -"By the Prince's palace at ten of the night. Then are our townsmen in -their houses and shortly after in their beds, and the streets are -therefore well-nigh deserted. Also our invaders," he went on bitterly, -"are all called in at sunset, the town is quiet. Beyond your -questioning at the gate there will be naught to impede you." - -"Is it agreed on?" Sylvia asked of Bevill. - -"As you command," he answered, "it shall be. At ten of the night -to-morrow I shall be outside the Prince's palace or no longer alive." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Sylvia, shuddering at the very thought of Bevill's -being no longer in existence twenty-four hours hence. "Never speak nor -dream of it. If I thought there was danger of such horrors would I -quit Liege?" - -An instant after Bevill had spoken he knew that his words were -ill-timed. He recognised that to alarm Sylvia at this moment--the -moment when she had decided to set out on the road to England--was -madness. Madness, because he knew--he could not help but know--that -after the episodes of the last night in the now gloomy and deserted -Weiss Haus his own life was in serious danger; not from any violence -that Francbois might attempt against him--that, he doubted not, he -could meet and overthrow--but from his treachery. And though, -soldier-like, he thought but little of his life and was willing to -freely set it against the prize that success and increase of honour -would bring, he was not willing to set it against the sweet, new-born -hopes that had sprung to his heart; against the desire to win this -beautiful and stately woman for his wife. - -"Yet," he mused, even as he heard Van Ryk telling her how he charged -himself henceforth with all care of her property and affairs; how, in -truth, he would regard himself as her steward and agent in Liege until -brighter days should dawn, "yet, if I am betrayed, if I die here, I -lose more than my life, more than that life is worth; while she--ah! -no--I may not dream nor hope as yet to win what I desire. Though -still--still I fain would hope that this life of mine may grow -precious to her--that she would as little part from me as I from her. -If it should be so! If it should!" - -They had all risen now, and were once more making their way towards -the thicket by the stables, Mynheer Van Ryk walking with Madame de -Valorme and Bevill by Sylvia's side; and as they went, he said to her: - -"There is one fear within my heart, one dread that I would have -allayed. May I ask a question, hoping to receive an answer to it from -you?" - -"Ask," Sylvia replied, looking at him in the starlight, while, since -she herself was tall, her eyes were not so far from his but that he -could gaze easily into them. - -"You do not set out upon this journey, do not leave Liege on my -account alone!" he said now. "I could not bear to deem that you are -going on a perilous journey--for perilous it may be--only to ensure -the safety of one who, perhaps foolishly then, placed himself in a -position of which there was no need." - -"Then--And now?" Sylvia murmured. - -"But who now regards the enterprise he undertook as--it may well be -so--the happiest, the best determination he ever embarked upon. Ah! -answer me, Sylvia." - -"I set out to-morrow night," the girl replied, "because I fain -would quit Liege--because I would be gone from out of it at once. -The place thrusts against my desires, my wishes--ay, all my hopes -of--happiness--to come. Ask me no more since I have answered you. -Farewell," holding out her slim, white hand to him. "Farewell until -to-morrow night. You will not fail, I know." - -"I shall never fail you. Farewell. Goodnight." - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -The next night was already very quiet, although it still wanted some -time ere ten should strike from St. Lambert's and all the other clocks -of the city. - -Van Ryk had spoken truly when he said that by this time most of the -Liegois were in their homes, though some who had not yet retired to -them were on the various bridges over the streams running through the -city from the Meuse. For the night had grown almost insufferably hot, -and the interiors of many of the houses, which were built of timber -and stood in narrow, stuffy streets, were not inviting. Also, some few -were strolling about or seated on the quays. - -Outside the Prince's palace--which was that of the -Prince-Bishop--there were, however, scarcely any persons about, and -those only beggars, who sometimes at night crept into the outer -cloisters to sleep. - -In the darkest shadow cast by these cloisters Bevill Bracton sat on La -Rose's back while endeavouring to keep her as quiet as was possible, -though no efforts could prevent her from pawing the earth, or shaking -her bridoon, or snorting impatiently. - -His dress, in which at one time he had thought of making some -alteration, he had, however, left as it was, since it was neither too -handsome nor too conspicuous for a secretary of legation on his -travels with a French lady of rank who, if necessity should call for -such a declaration, would state that they were family connections. - -He had arrived at this spot and taken up the position he now occupied -some quarter of an hour ago, and during that time, while casting -searching glances to right and left of him to see if there were as yet -any signs of the approach of Madame de Valorme's carriage, his mind -had been much occupied with all that had transpired since Mynheer Van -Ryk had escorted the two ladies to the Weiss Haus. - -Yet strange as had been one, or, at least, two, occurrences during the -past twenty-four hours, another matter, the recollection of one other -incident, dominated his mind more than aught else--the recollection -that the last words Sylvia uttered had been almost an avowal of her -regard--he dared not yet tell himself that it was an avowal of her -love--for him. - -"Her voice, her tone, her anxiety to depart from Liege," he had said -to himself a hundred times since he parted from the girl, "scarce -leaves me room to doubt her sentiments for me, while throwing open the -door of a vast, a supreme hope. Ah, if it is so! If, when once we are -free of this place, I may dare to speak, and, in speaking, win the -reply I fain would receive, what happiness will be mine! With Sylvia -for my love, my promised wife; with her safe in England, what may I -not undertake in the future? Once more a soldier, as I hope to be, may -I not follow where duty summons me, knowing that, if it pleases -Providence to spare my life, it will be to find Sylvia awaiting me and -ready to fulfil her promise to be my wife when I return." - -As he had thought thus during the past hours so he thought again -while, statue-like, he sat his steed in the deepest shadows of the -palace cloisters and waited to hear the tread of the Comtesse's horses -approaching, or to see the carriage emerging from one of the narrow -streets that led into the great open space around the palace. - -Still, however, he had those other things to occupy his mind--strange -things that, had it not been for the overmastering thoughts of the -woman he had learnt to love--the woman who, he dared to hope, had -either come or was coming to love him--would have never left his mind. -Things, occurrences, that now cast a strangely different light on all -that had happened during the storm of the first night in the Weiss -Haus, and that had raised oft-recurring doubts as to whether he had -accurately understood all that had taken place in the darkness of that -night. - -When Sylvia and the Comtesse de Valorme had departed with Mynheer Van -Ryk, Bevill--partly attracted by the beauty of the evening and partly -because it was still early, and perhaps, also, because he knew full -well that, after Sylvia's last words to him, there would be little -likelihood of his sleeping at present--determined to remain outside -the mansion for some time before attempting to obtain any rest. - -Naturally--as, maybe, needs no telling--his steps were unconsciously -directed back to the arbour in which their late conversation had taken -place, and, as he approached the spot, the calm tranquillity of the -night, the entire absence of the lightest breeze, forced itself upon -his attention. Even, however, as this took place he recalled how Van -Ryk had said that the wind was rising and rustling the bushes and long -grasses; and, while doing so, Bevill wondered why the merchant should -have given utterance to such a remark; for, as he thought upon the -matter, he knew that no breath of wind had disturbed the air, that not -the slightest breeze had blown that would have stirred a leaf. - -His faculties aroused by all the necessities for caution which had -formed part of his existence since he left England on the undertaking -he was now about--faculties that had long since been trained and -sharpened in his earlier campaigns--he stood gazing at the bushes and -tall, wavy, Eastern grasses which surrounded the arbour, as though in -them he might, dark as it was now, discover some natural cause that -would have furnished Van Ryck with the supposition that the wind was -rising. - -Seeing nothing, however, that could suggest any such cause, he walked -round those bushes and grasses to the back of the arbour and -endeavoured to discover if the reason was to be found there. - -At first he could perceive nothing in the darkness, while feeling -gently about him with his hands and feet, as those feel to whom the -aid of light is denied while they search for aught they may expect to -discover. - -But, at last, it seemed to Bevill that the grass behind the arbour was -strangely flattened down longwise, and, pausing at this discovery, his -sharpened instincts were soon at work wondering what this might mean. - -"A large dog sleeping here might almost have made for itself a bed," -he reflected, "yet there is no dog about the place, nor, even though -there were, would it have lain so straight and long. What, therefore, -may have done this? What? Perhaps a man." - -After which he stooped again, and, placing his hand on the -pressed-down grass, discovered that it was warm. - -"Something has indeed lain here but recently," Bevill said to himself. -"Some eavesdropper who has heard our plans, who knows them all by now, -who has it in his power to foil us. Can it have been Francbois?" - -Supposing this might well be the case, Bevill determined to search the -grounds and afterwards the house as thoroughly as might be, while -understanding that, no matter how much he might endeavour to make that -search complete, it could by no possibility be so. The gardens were -too vast, the house too extensive. As he approached one spot any -person whom he sought might easily move to another; chance alone, the -luckiest of all chances, could bring him into contact with any lurker -who should be about. - -Nevertheless, he decided to attempt the search, and, feeling for his -pistols, which in no circumstances was he ever separated from, he -began to make as thorough an inspection of the place as was possible. -Yet, when all was concluded, and when he had been all about the -grounds, and had peered into the other arbours and _bosquets_ and -behind bushes, and had then once more wandered over the vast, lonely -house, he had found nothing. After which, since still he felt sure -there had been some listener crouching behind that arbour while the -plans of himself and the others were being determined, he brought out -a chair on to the lower verandah and, wrapping himself lightly in his -cloak, since now the night was growing cool, determined to keep watch -as long as possible. - -The early summer dawn came, however, and Bevill was still awake, but -had seen nothing, whereupon he at last decided that it must have been -some animal that had been sleeping behind where they all sat. - - -[Illustration: "The gardener carried something else in his hand."] - - -An hour or so after this and when he had obtained some refreshing -sleep on the great lounge in the hall, old Karl appeared, bringing the -usual food which he had received instructions from Sylvia to provide -each day so long as Bevill should remain at the Weiss Haus. The -gardener carried, however, something else than this in his hand, -namely, a three-cornered hat, which he at once said he had found in -the path that led from a little wicket gate he alone used, and which -opened from the road leading from his cottage to the grounds behind -the stables. - -"Another hat!" Bevill exclaimed, taking it from the old man's hands -and turning it over in his own. "Another! Whose this time?" - -To whomsoever it might have belonged, it did not, however, appear to -the young man that it was any more likely to have belonged to -Francbois than had done the earlier discovered one. If anything, it -was an even poorer specimen of headgear than that had been, and was a -hat that, though originally not of a common order, gave signs that it -might in its existence have passed from one owner to another; from, -indeed, a well-to-do man down to one who would be willing to accept it -in its final state of usefulness. - -"It is very strange," he said, half aloud and half to himself. "Were -there three of them here last night, or were there only two, and was -Francbois not one of them? Had I two enemies besides him, and still -have two with him since Sparmann is gone? It is vastly strange." After -which he turned to Karl, and said: - -"You have just found this thing. Therefore it was not there last night -nor yesterday morning?" - -"Ah," the old man replied, "I cannot tell. Yesterday I used not the -path at all, having gone first to the Jouffrouw at Mynheer Van Ryk's -in the morning; and, last night, I was busy with _him_," nodding his -head towards where the corpse by the stables had been, "after dark." - -"What have you done with him?" - -"He is gone," Karl said vaguely. "Gone. No matter where. He will not -come back to--to--the Weiss Haus or Liege." - -By which remark Bevill was led to suppose that the old man had cast -Sparmann's body into the river. - -"Therefore," the latter said, "we have no knowledge of whether that -hat was left behind by one who was here during the storm of the night -before, or last night. Yet," turning the thing over in his hands, -"surely it must have been the first night. See, it has recently been -soaked by rain, the lining is still damp, and last night there was no -rain whatever." - -"It may be," Karl replied, apparently much astonished at this clear -reasoning. "It may be. Therefore, you had three visitors on that -night." - -"I cannot say. I have but proof of two. The wearers of the two hats at -least were here. Yet they may well have been the only visitors; in -solemn truth there may not have been three. Though strange it is -that, if there were but two, both should have parted with their hats. -One must have lost his in the encounter in which he received his -death-wound, the other in fleeing away." - -For, now, Bevill had grave doubts as to whether Francbois had been at -the Weiss Haus at all on the night before the one now past. Still, if -it were not Francbois who had mortally wounded Sparmann--while almost -of a certainty supposing Sparmann to be another person, namely, -himself--who was it? Who was the other enemy he possessed? He knew -neither of personal enemy nor spy tracking him, nor of French soldier -or official likely to do so. - -All the same, there was, there must be, a third enemy, even though -Francbois had not been of the number that night, since it was almost -certain that neither of those hats would have been worn by him--even -as a disguise. There must be two others beside him while Sparmann was -alive! - -"And still there is more mystery," Bevill mused as the old man stood -gazing up at him, "more that is inexplicable. Sparmann did not find -his way out through either of the doors, nor, since I followed him as -he fled down the stairs, did he do so by the ladder against the -balcony. How, then, did that come to pass? Did he hide somewhere in -the house until I had opened the door leading to the stables, or was -there some window near the ground through which a man wounded to the -death might yet escape?" - -But no answer came to these reflections. Whatever had taken place in -the Weiss Haus, other than all which he already knew, had left no -trace behind. - -* * * * * * * - -Ten had struck, and, next, the quarter, from all the city clocks ere -Bevill had concluded these reflections, and still the carriage which -he was to accompany to the gate (since, as has been told, it was -finally decided that all should leave the city together, or attempt to -leave it) had not appeared. - -As, however, the half-hour rang out, Bevill perceived it drawing near. -On the box he recognised Joseph, he being, doubtless owing to the -necessity for a coachman, the only servant whom the Comtesse de -Valorme had thought fit to bring with her. - -Slowly the carriage drew near until, now, it was almost abreast of -where Bevill sat his horse, when, allowing La Rose to advance, he rode -up to the side of it and, bowing low to its occupants, asked if all -was well with them. - -"All is very well," the Comtesse and Sylvia said together, while the -latter added, "as we pray it is with you. Ah!" she went on, "how we do -pray that the next half-hour will see you safely out of this place." - -"And I," Bevill said, "that we shall all be safely out of it -together." - -Any further remarks they would have made were, however, checked by -what they deemed to be an ordinary occurrence in a city in the -condition that Liege now stood. - -From the direction in which the travelling carriage had come there -appeared--their corselets gleaming under the oil lamps slung across -the end of the old street--half a dozen men of a dragoon regiment, -having at their head an officer. As they advanced at a trot, Bevill -observed that no sooner had they approached close to the party than the -officer gave an order for them to proceed slowly, so that now the -_cortege_ presented the appearance of a carriage accompanied first by a -gentleman as escort, and next by a guard--small as it was--of cavalry. -Still, however, as the great vehicle proceeded through narrow, tortuous -streets, while emerging occasionally into little open spaces having -sometimes fountains in the middle of them and, here and there, an old -and timeworn statue, he saw that, wherever he and the carriage went, -the dragoons followed. Also, if any interruption occurred, or any halt -was made by Joseph in the confined streets, they halted too, so that, at -last, he felt sure that their close following of him and those with him -was no mere coincidence. This was, he soon decided, no night patrol -returning from its round to its own quarters, but resembled more a guard -which had taken possession of the travellers after having come across -them. - -He saw, too, that the ladies knew what was behind and were already -alarmed. - -Turning sound suddenly over his cantle, therefore, while raising his -hat at the same time, Bevill said to the officer: - -"Monsieur proceeds in the same direction as ourselves. It is to be -hoped that we in no way interrupt his progress or that of his troops." - -"In no way, monsieur," the officer answered equally politely, while -returning Bevill's salute. "But," speaking very clearly and -distinctly, "we are warned that an English spy will endeavour to leave -Liege to-night in company with two ladies who travel by coach, and, -until monsieur has satisfied those who are at the gate, he will pardon -us if we inflict our company on him and his friends." - -"An English spy!" Bevill exclaimed. - -"Unhappily, it is so. One whose name is as well known as the French -name with which he thinks fit to honour our country by assuming." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -When the officer of dragoons had uttered those last words there -remained no longer any hope of escape in Bevill's mind. It was -impossible to doubt that he was the person for whom this small body of -troops was searching, or to suppose that there was in Liege any other -Englishman who, as the officer had said with delicate sarcasm, was -honouring his country by assuming a French name. - -At first he knew not what was best to do, though, had he been alone, -his perplexity might easily have been resolved, since there would have -been one of two things open to him, namely, on the one hand, an -attempt to escape by flight through the narrow streets which -surrounded them all at this time--an attempt to dash suddenly away on -the fleet-footed La Rose, in the hope that she would bear him more -swiftly through those cramped streets than the heavy troop-horses of -the dragoons could follow, or ride through, side by side. On the other -hand, an effort to cut his way through these soldiers, though they -were seven against him, might by supreme good fortune be successful. - -But, now, these ideas could by no possibility be acted on. He was -there in company with Sylvia and the Comtesse as their cavalier and -escort; while, although it was his safety and not theirs which was in -peril, his place was by their side to the last. Consequently, there -remained one thing alone to do: to state that he was the Englishman of -whom these men were in search, while adding that he was no spy, but, -instead, one who had made his way from England to Liege with the sole -object of assisting a countrywoman to leave a city surrounded by the -eternal enemies of the English. - -Before, however, Bevill could follow this determination, at which he -arrived suddenly, since from the time the officer of dragoons had -uttered his last words until now not two moments had elapsed, he saw -the face of Madame de Valorme at the window of the travelling -carriage, and, an instant later, heard her address the officer. - -"Monsieur," she said, "ere we reach the gate may I beseech the favour -of speaking to the gentleman of our party in private? I have some few -words to say to him in connection with our journey when we shall be -outside the city. I am confident that monsieur will not refuse so -simple a request." - -"Madame may rest well assured of that," the officer replied, as now he -sat his horse bareheaded before the Comtesse. "Madame shall not be -incommoded by listeners to anything she may have to say to her -friend." After which he ordered three of his men to advance twenty -paces in front of the carriage and halt there, and the other three to -retire twenty paces behind it; while he himself rode forward and took -up his position in front of the foremost men. - -The Comtesse and Sylvia, with Bevill at the carriage window, were, -therefore, as free to discourse without being overheard as though the -soldiers had not been in the neighbourhood. - -"Ah!" the former said now, speaking of course in a low tone, as at the -same time Sylvia thrust forth her hand and clasped Bevill's silently, -while one glance at her sweet face was enough to show him how agitated -she was, the look in her eyes telling him of that agitation as clearly -as the tremor of her gloved hand could do. "Ah! what is to be done? -Have we failed so soon in our undertaking? Have we brought you to your -destruction?" - -"Nay, never, never!" Bevill whispered back. "If I have met my -fate"--while, as he spoke, he heard a moan, which was in truth a gasp, -from Sylvia's lips, and felt her hand tighten convulsively on his--"I -have brought it on myself; I can meet it boldly. I set myself to do -this thing, looking for a reward, though never dreaming how fair a -reward might at last be mine," he added, with a glance beyond the -Comtesse to where Sylvia was. "If I have lost shall I not pay the -stake, shall I not look ill-fortune bravely in the face?" - -"How has this disaster come about?" Sylvia asked, speaking for the -first time. "What precaution has been omitted? Or is it----?" - -"Treachery!" the Comtesse said. "Ay! that way the disaster has come. -Say, is it not so?" - -"I fear, indeed, it is," Bevill replied. "Listen. Someone, either -Francbois or another, was in the garden of the Weiss Haus last night -behind the arbour, and overheard our plans. I have been denounced, our -plans have been revealed, by the eavesdropper." - -"Maledictions on him!" the Comtesse whispered through her white teeth, -while now her eyes were worthy rivals in splendour of Sylvia's own as -they sparkled in the light cast by a lamp suspended across the narrow -street. "May vengeance confound him, whoe'er he is; and if 'tis -Francbois, let him beware! I hold him in my hand. If--if--you -are--are----" - -"Cease in mercy's sake!" Sylvia exclaimed. "Ah, say it not. It -cannot--cannot--be." - -"If you are betrayed by him, you shall be dearly avenged," the -Comtesse continued. "Yet, see, that officer gives some order to the -men by his side. Quick--what will you do? What?" - -"Proclaim myself an Englishman, yet no spy. Speak truthfully, and -acknowledge that I came here to save my countrywoman----" - -"Madame," the officer exclaimed now as, after turning his horse, he -rode back to the carriage, "the clocks are striking the last quarter. -If madame and her friends are not at the gate in ten minutes there -will be little hope of their passing through it to-night. Even -provided," he added below his breath, "that the papers are in order." - -For this well-bred young dragoon had a full certainty that he had -found the quarry which he, as well as two or three other small parties -of soldiers, had been sent out that night to waylay if possible. Yet -he had caught a glimpse of Sylvia in the depths of the carriage and -more than a glimpse of the aristocratic though sad features of the -Comtesse, and he regretted that it had fallen to his lot to light on -those who were sought for. As for Bevill, he recognised that he was -one of his own class--a gentleman and, by his appearance, perhaps a -soldier; but he believed him to be what he had been described as -being, a spy, a thing accursed in every land, and for him the young -officer felt little sympathy. - -"It must be so," Madame de Valorme said now. "Monsieur," speaking as -calmly to Bevill as she was able to do, "pray bid Joseph to proceed." - -A moment later the group had again set forth, three of the troopers -riding ahead and three behind the carriage, only now the officer rode -very close behind Bevill. - -It took but little longer after this to reach the gate set in the -walls, which at this time were very high and strong, the gate-house -itself looking like a small fortress built into a still greater -fortification. Inside it, three or four mousquetaires were standing as -sentries as the carriage approached, while, since all recognised the -young officer in front, no challenge was given, but, instead, a -salute. - -Then the latter, speaking to one of the mousquetaires, said: - -"Inform the officer of the guard that Captain d'Aubenay has arrived in -company with a party who desire to pass out." - -Ere, however, this could be done, the officer himself had come forth -from the guard room, and as he did so the Comtesse uttered an -exclamation, while muttering beneath her breath: - -"It is De Guise. Again! Ah, that man is fatal to all of us!" - -In the manner of the young Duc de Guise there was, however, nothing to -suggest any disaster, since, courteous as he had been at the western -gate when the Comtesse entered with Bevill, so he was now as she and -Bevill endeavoured to leave by the eastern one. - -"We meet again, madame," he said; "and, this time, when madame would -depart. The formality is nothing. I merely require to see the papers -of herself and friends. Yet I have seen it before," he went on, as now -he took the _laissez-passers_ of the Comtesse and Sylvia from the -former's hand. "Ah, yes, yes," he muttered, though as he did so he -glanced at Madame de Valorme and, past her, at Sylvia. "Madame la -Comtesse de Valorme and her _dame de compagnie_. _Si, si_. And -monsieur?" he continued, looking up now at Bevill, while all noticed -that he had not used one of the accustomed phrases, "_Passez, -madame_," or "_C'est tout en regle_," nor had he as yet returned the -papers. - -"Ah, yes!" the young Duke said now, as he looked at the paper Bevill -handed down to him. "Monsieur de Belleville. I remember very well. Of -the embassy in London. Yes," still looking up. Then he said, "I regret -to do so, but I must ask monsieur to descend from his horse." - -"Descend!" - -"Unfortunately it must be so. We have received orders not to permit -monsieur to pass the gate for the moment. Doubtless for the moment -only. It is very regrettable----" - -"And," asked the Comtesse, "has monsieur le Duc also received orders -not to permit me and my _dame de compagnie_ to pass out?" - -"_Je suis desole_, but, alas!----" - -"Is it so?" - -"It is so, madame." - -"Are we to be detained here? And for how long?" - -"Ah, Madame la Comtesse! For how long! But for a moment. Monsieur de -Violaine, the Governor, makes the night rounds regularly, reaching -here at eleven as the clocks strike, or very little later. Madame may -rely on seeing him in a few minutes. If he decides that it shall be so -the gate will be opened to let madame and mademoiselle pass out." - -"And as for me, sir?" Bevill asked. - -"Monsieur, I cannot say. Our orders were simply to detain you if you -presented yourself at the gate." - -Then, again addressing the Comtesse, the young Duke said: - -"Will not madame and mademoiselle give themselves the trouble to -descend from the coach? The guardroom is at their disposal: while," -looking at Bevill, "monsieur is quite free to accompany his friends -inside." - -After which the Comtesse and Sylvia left the great carriage, and -Bevill, after assisting them to do so, in which attention he was -joined by the Duke and another officer of mousquetaires, accompanied -them to the guardroom. - -Hardly, however, had they set foot in the place than the clatter of -several horses' hoofs was heard outside; the voice of a sergeant was -also heard giving the order to salute, and, a moment later, the -Governor, M. de Violaine, entered the room. As he did so the eyes of -those three were turned on him whom they well knew was, for the time -being at least, the arbiter of their destiny; while Madame de Valorme -seemed to become even more pale than she usually appeared. For, as she -had said once, this man was well known to her, and, like her, belonged -to the South of France; while, in other days, he had aspired to win -her hand, though this no one in Liege but herself and De Violaine -knew. - -The group was now one at which any onlooker, not knowing all that -agitated the hearts and minds of those present, might have gazed in -interested wonderment. - - -[Illustration: "De Violaine muttered beneath his breath, 'It is -she--Radegonde!'"--_p_. 747.] - - -De Violaine, tall and handsomely accoutred, had stopped short as he -entered the guardroom, and, his eyes fixed on the Comtesse, had -muttered beneath his breath, "It is she--Radegonde!" - -By Bevill's side, to which she had drawn close as they entered through -the clamped door, was Sylvia, gazing at him, silent for some moments, -yet whispering next. - -"You thought to save me--would have saved me. If on this earth there -exist any means by which I can do by you as you would have done by me, -they shall be used. You said last night that you would never fail me. -Now I exchange the pledge. By God's will never will I fail you." - -"Sylvia!" Bevill murmured, and then was silent from agitation at her -words. But a moment later he said, speaking so low that none but she -could hear, "Sylvia, I am in God's hand, not knowing what His decree -may be; yet--yet--if this is not the end, if to-night we do not make -our last farewell----" - -"No, no!" she moaned, turning her face away so that the others should -not see her fast falling tears. "Not that! Never! Ah, it cannot be!" - -"I pray it may not be so; but, Sylvia, if happier days shall ever -dawn, if some day I may stand face to face with you again; if I should -then dare to tell you all that is in my heart? Ah!" he exclaimed, as -now he felt her hand touch his beneath the long, dark riding-cloak she -wore. "Ah! am I answered?" - -"Yes," she whispered, "answered as none shall ever be again," and -turned her face away--from him this time, so that not even he should -see it. - -Meanwhile, whatever emotion De Violaine and the Comtesse may have -experienced in meeting under such strange circumstances, circumstances -so different from those of other days, when he who now commanded -besought pity, and she who was now almost a captive could not -vouchsafe mercy to her then captive, they had at least obtained -control over themselves. - -Quietly, with the easy calm of that old French _noblesse_ which, above -all things, permitted no emotion to be apparent, the Governor had -advanced towards Madame de Valorme and, in a few well-chosen words, -had informed her that matters which had come to his knowledge -prevented him from allowing her to use her right of quitting the city -at present, or of leaving Liege until she had answered some questions -satisfactorily. - -"What matters? What questions, monsieur?" the Comtesse asked. - -"Firstly," M. de Violaine said gravely, "the reasons for which you are -desirous of travelling at this moment. It is an unhappy time for -ladies to select for setting out upon a journey. They might," he -added, with significance, "come into contact with the English or some -other of our enemies; they are all around." - -For a moment the Comtesse looked at the Governor; then, seeing that -the others in the room were not close, she said: - -"Have you, a De Violaine of our unhappy province, forgotten how the -eyes of all there are turned towards England? Even though I should -'come into contact' with the English would that be harmful to me, or -those of whom I am one?" - -"I have not forgotten that I am a soldier, a servant, of France," the -other answered. "As one who has sworn a soldier's duty to his King I -must, for the time, forget all else. Madame la Comtesse, I ask of you -to return to the house from which you set out and remain there. You -have been denounced to me as one who is desirous, for a purpose of -which I know as well as you, of obtaining an audience of Lord -Marlborough." - -"Denounced! Naturally, I do not desire to be informed of the name of -my denouncer. I know it--and I pity him." - -De Violaine looked at her for a moment; then, turning towards Bevill, -he said: - -"Monsieur, the name on your passport is not your name. You are, I am -informed, an Englishman and a spy." - -"I am an Englishman, monsieur. I am no spy." - -"That you will have to prove, as well as your object in being here in -any position except that of a spy. For the present you will be -detained at the citadel. The gate," he said, addressing the Duc de -Guise, "will be opened no more to-night." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -Through all that had taken place in the guardroom, M. de Violaine had -conducted himself as a gallant gentleman, and neither in his tone, -words, nor bearing had there been any of that hectoring or browbeating -towards one who, if he was what he had been denounced as being, might -well have been subjected to such treatment. - -For a spy, found in a city subject to those who were already sore -pressed by the very country to which that supposed spy belonged, could -scarcely look for gentle treatment at the hands of one who was in -command of the principal fortress of that city; while, polished as the -French _noblesse_ and gentry might be, soldiering was conducted with a -considerable amount of roughness at this time, and it was the habit of -all in command in the chief European armies--which were the armies of -England and France alone--to treat suspected prisoners with scant -consideration. - -Yet Bevill could not complain of any roughness on the part of the man -whose captive he now was. De Violaine, except that his manner was cold -and austere towards him, had behaved as well as one gentleman brought -into contact with another, and that other the subject of a hostile -country, could have been expected to behave. For all of which there -was a reason, over and above the fact that the prisoner was -undoubtedly the friend of the woman whom De Violaine had once loved -tenderly and hoped to win, as well as apparently something more than a -friend of the beautiful companion of the Comtesse--that stately, -handsome girl from whose eyes the tears had fallen fast in compassion -for the man who was now his prisoner. - -This reason was that he had been face to face with the denouncer of -Bevill, and, later, with Bevill himself--the denounced--and the first -had impressed him unfavourably, while the second, Englishman though he -was, had produced a vastly different effect on him. - -That morning, early, Francbois had obtained an audience with the -Governor, and, after many crafty hints and a considerable amount of -falsehood, had told sufficient to cause De Violaine to issue his -orders for preventing Bevill and his companions from leaving Liege. - -But when Francbois, after stating that not only was the principal -accused an Englishman, but also a spy of the enemy, as well as -being a Protestant--whom he termed generally _heretiques_ and -_reformes_--but also one who had committed other crimes against France -which he would unfold, the soldier bade him be silent. - -"You state," De Violaine said, "that you can prove he is an -Englishman; that he travels under a false name while bearing a -passport made out in that false name, a French one. That is sufficient -for his arrest." - -"Sufficient, monsieur, for his arrest! His arrest! But surely not -sufficient--surely not--for his condemnation--his punishment?" - -"That will come later--at the court-martial, since it is by that he -can alone be judged. Then you can tell all else you know." - -"A court-martial! Is that necessary? Is he not a spy and are not spies -condemned without many formalities? Are not Protestants the enemies of -France?" - -"No," De Violaine said, regarding coldly the man before him. "I am -one. Am I an enemy of France? So, too, are half the inhabitants of -this place, yet they submit." - -"Monsieur le Gouverneur is a Protestant!" Francbois exclaimed, taken -aback at learning a fact of which he was in utter ignorance. "A -Protestant!" he said again. - -"One of many who love France well and serve her well. Also, you speak -of la Comtesse de Valorme, and state that you know what she is in -Liege for. Knowing so much, you know too that she is of the reformed -faith. Do you not suppose, also, that this Mademoiselle Thorne, this -English girl of whom you speak, is the same?" - -"There is nought against Mademoiselle Thorne." - -"There will be if she attempts to leave Liege without my particular -permission. Now go, monsieur. You have told me enough to cause them -all to be prevented in their intention. Later, you can tell the -officers who will judge this Englishman all that you know. Only," with -a strange look in his eyes as De Violaine regarded Francbois, "be -careful not to leave Liege yourself: you will be wanted." - -"I--I----" Francbois stammered, utterly taken aback, not only at the -knowledge he had now obtained that the Governor was a Protestant, but -also at learning that he himself would be required at whatever form of -trial there might be. "I hoped that I should not be called upon to -appear personally; I hoped that my information would be sufficient." - -"You will have to be present. Where is your abode?" - -"At--at----" But he paused. If he gave the house of Van Ryck as his -place of abode he stigmatised himself as one who betrayed a woman -dwelling under the same roof as he; while if, on the other hand, he -told this man sitting before him and regarding him so coldly and -contemptuously, that he was an inhabitant of the Jesuit College, he -proclaimed himself as one whom this Protestant soldier would regard -with abhorrence and all other Frenchmen with mistrust. - -"Answer me," the Governor said, seeing that the other hesitated. -"Answer, I say. Where do you dwell?" - -"I--I--am for the moment at the Jesuit College, Monsieur le -Gouverneur," Francbois cried, seeing a look appear upon De Violaine's -face which he could not comprehend, so strange, so inscrutable was it. -"I am of the religion of France, as most Frenchmen are. There is no -crime in consorting with Jesuits." - -But still De Violaine looked at Francbois, who now stood before him -with his features white as a corpse within its shroud; while, as the -former regarded him, he felt that he was trembling. - -"No," De Violaine said at last, speaking very calmly; "there is no -harm in consorting with Jesuits, unless it be to do harm. Yet----" - -But now he paused and added nothing further, though still looking -Francbois through and through with calm eyes. - -Inwardly, however, his reflections were profound. - -"The Jesuits' College!" he was saying to himself. "A portion of that -confraternity which secretly is opposed to the claims of France to the -Spanish Throne since, once possessed of Spain, France would attempt to -suppress the Inquisition. The Jesuits' College in this place, from -which De Boufflers has hinted more than once that news of our projects -and plans is disseminated to the enemy. Ah! who is the greater spy on -us--that Protestant Englishman of whom this man speaks, or he himself -who harbours in that college under the sheltering wing of the order. -_Carogne!_ if I trap one 'twere best I held the other in my hand as -well," and once more the Governor's eyes fell on the man before him. - -"Monsieur," Francbois said now, as, still white and still trembling, -he again met De Violaine's glance, "Monsieur, is my presence needed -further? I--I--have affairs of consequence in hand." - -"Doubtless! Yet I have changed my mind. When do you say this -Englishman masquerading as a Frenchman is about to quit the city with -those ladies?" - -"To-night, Monsieur le Gouverneur--before the hour of eleven strikes." - -"So be it. You have told me much, but not sufficient. To-night, before -eleven, they will all be stopped on their intended journey. The -Englishman will be brought here"--"here" being the citadel in which -this conversation was taking place--"and your charges against him must -be made at once. It may be that all you state is capable of -explanation." - -"Here, monsieur? I would have desired not to be present, not to be -forced to accuse this spy face to face. A silent, an unknown, an -absent witness is sometimes more useful than a present one. Yet, since -monsieur desires it, it shall be so. I will be here. Monsieur may rely -on me." - -"Reliance is not necessary," De Violaine replied, while knowing well -that, if once this man was allowed to go, the inside of the citadel -would never see him again. "You will remain here till the gate is shut -and that man in our hands. He shall be brought here at once; you shall -stand face to face with him and tell your tale. If what you state, and -that which you say you can state further against him, cannot meet -inquiry, he will be in grievous peril." - -"But, Monsieur le----" - -"No more. You will be well cared for, and, providing you speak truly, -no harm can come to you." After which De Violaine struck upon a bell -by his hand, and, upon the appearance of two of the men on guard -outside, bade them remove the gentleman before them to a room in the -north wing of the citadel and be careful to treat him with all care -and attend well to his wants. But before Francbois was removed from -his presence, and ere he reached the door, the Governor bade the men -retire outside the room again until he summoned them. Then, when once -more alone with Francbois, he said: - -"There is some reason for your denunciation of this Englishman. What -is that reason? Is it to obtain money, reward?" - -"Monsieur?" Francbois exclaimed, making a sorry attempt to draw -himself up to his full height and to look the Governor fairly in the -face. "I am a gentleman--a Frenchman and--a patriot." But, -impassively, De Violaine--though it may be that his shoulders were -shrugged almost imperceptibly--continued: - -"Are these ladies with whom this Englishman will endeavour to leave -the city known to you?" - -"Yes," Francbois replied, speaking truthfully, since he could not -doubt that ere long--by eleven o'clock this night, if no sooner--any -falsehood he might utter would be unmasked. "Yes. La Comtesse de -Valorme is, in a manner, of my kin." - -"Of your kin?" while beneath his lips the other drew a quick breath. -"Of your kin? La Comtesse de Valorme is kin to you! But there are many -De Valormes in--in the South. Is she by chance the wife of Gabriel, -Comte de Valorme, who was sent to the galleys for his religion?" - -"She is, monsieur, the widow of Gabriel. He died in the galley _Le -Requin_." - -"Ah! so he is dead." And again De Violaine drew a subdued breath. Then -he went on: - -"And the other lady? She is, you say, English. A countrywoman of this -man whom you denounce. Who is she? What is she? What does she here in -Liege?" - -That the French Governor should not know this was natural, since, -between the military investors of Liege and those residing in the city -there could be no intercourse whatever, or only the very slightest -between the commanders of the former and the magistracy of the latter; -and, consequently, all that Francbois now told him was unknown -previously. But of Sylvia De Violaine asked no further questions, and, -going to the door again, called in the guards and bade them escort -Francbois to the room he had ordained. - -After which, and when left alone, he sat down in his chair again and -gave himself up to his reflections and to many tender, yet sad, -memories. - -"So Gabriel is dead," he said to himself. "Poor Gabriel. Dead in one -of those accursed galleys. Dead! He to be dead thus! And Radegonde is -here--here in Liege. Radegonde, the one woman who ever rose as a star -above my life, the one woman who might have been the flower of that -life. Yet it was never to be. Never! Never! When Gabriel came all hope -was gone for me. Gone! Nay, it never existed. What was it she told me -on that last night? That, had her heart been hers it should have been -mine--only Gabriel had gained possession of it and would hold -possession of it for ever. And now--now--Gabriel is dead, and it falls -to me to interrupt her, to thwart her--her, to whom once I would have -given my life had she demanded it." - -De Violaine brushed his hand swiftly across his eyes, thrust his chair -back, and rose from it to pace the room, while muttering to himself, -"That is done with, put away for ever. Duty alone remains--the duty, -the allegiance I have sworn. A soldier's loyalty! No matter what he -ordains," and his thoughts flew to far-off Versailles, "no matter how -much she persuades him to evil, he is the King and I his soldier. Duty -to him--and France! Yet, oh! that he were different." - -"As for this fellow," the Governor continued, contemptuously now, "who -and what is he? Has _he_ dared to raise his eyes to Radegonde, to -dream that he shall ever occupy the place Gabriel held; and does he -hope by some low cunning, some base intrigue, to bring her to his -hand? Emile Francbois! Emile Francbois! Ha! Have a care! You may have -thwarted her, you may have brought this Englishman to the halter, -but--there is rope enough in this fortress to hang more than one. A -spy deserves no worse fate than a traitor." - -He sent for the officer of the guard now, and gave his orders for -despatching a handful of cavalry under the command of one officer to -one part of the town and a second to another part, and gave -instructions that from dusk each should be on the watch for a -carriage, containing two ladies and accompanied by a man on horseback, -that would be making its way towards the only gate open after sunset. -He also gave instructions that if this party was met with it should be -conducted to that gate and there detained until he arrived at the -conclusion of his rounds. - -And so the trap that Francbois had baited was set. No travellers such -as he had described would be able to pass out of the city this night. -While, so strong was the sense of duty, of loyalty to France, -engrafted in the heart of De Violaine--badly as France was treating -that class of her subjects to which he belonged--that, even had Madame -de Valorme been his sister or his wife, he would not have permitted -her to continue her journey--a journey on which she went, as he could -very well imagine, with a view to conspiring with France's most -powerful enemy, England, as represented in the presence of -Marlborough. - -Yet it was hard to do!--hard to thwart the woman whom he had loved and -lost, the woman he had once dreamed of winning for his wife; and hard, -too, to prevent that woman from endeavouring to obtain help for those -of his and her own faith now suffering for that faith. - -But if he drew his existence from those of that faith, so, too, he -drew it from France, and, as one of her soldiers, he had sworn to -protect her. - -Not even his love for a woman whom he had lost could make him false to -that vow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - -When De Violaine gave the order to the young Duc de Guise that the -gate was to be opened no more for the night, Francbois, had he been -present instead of in the citadel, might well have considered that he -had succeeded in his betrayal of the man whom he regarded as his rival -in the affections of Sylvia Thorne. For that man was now a prisoner in -the hands of France; while the actual fact of his being in Liege by -aid of a false passport was one that must in any case tell heavily -against him. Also, some other statements--which were not facts--that -Francbois was prepared to weave into his denunciation would, beyond -all doubt, accomplish his destruction. - -That those statements would soon be made none who were present at this -time could doubt when, following on the order to have the gate kept -fast until daybreak, another was issued by the Governor. - -"Call Captain d'Aubenay," he said now to one of the mousquetaires -under the command of De Guise, while, turning to Bevill, he continued. -"You will be taken to the citadel; there you will hear the charge -against you--the charge upon which, later, you will be tried, as well -as upon another, of being present in a city under the control of -France while falsely passing as a Frenchman." - -To which Bevill made no reply, except a courteous bow, since he deemed -silence best. - -But, if he had nothing to say, one person at least--the Comtesse de -Valorme--saw no reason for also being silent. - -Approaching De Violaine, who stood some little distance apart from the -rest, she said therefore: - -"There is but one man in all Liege who can have denounced your newly -acquired prisoner. That man is named Emile Francbois"; while, -remarking that the other neither assented to nor denied this -statement, she added, "It is so, is it not?" - -But still De Violaine kept silence, whereupon the Comtesse continued, -while adopting now a different form of inquiry--a more impersonal one. - -"Whosoever the man may be," she said, "who has thought fit to testify -against monsieur, to formulate the charges against him of which you -speak--charges of which you could not otherwise have known--he must -have sought you out to do so. Monsieur, I beseech of you to at least -answer this, even though you answer nothing else." - -Whereupon, stung by the coldness of his questioner, stung also by the -almost contemptuous tone in which she spoke--she whom once he had -loved so much--De Violaine replied: - -"The person who has informed against the prisoner waited upon me at -the citadel." - -"And is present there now to repeat his charges against--the -prisoner?" - -To which question De Violaine contented him by answering with an -inclination of his head. - -"So be it," the Comtesse replied, and there was in her tone a -bitterness that her listener could never have supposed her to be -possessor of. "So be it. I know--nay, we all know"--with a glance that -swept over Sylvia and Bevill--"who this informer is. But, since -Monsieur le Gouverneur is by the way of listening to his informers," -and she saw De Violaine start and flush as she spoke, "he will not -refuse to give audience to another informer--at the citadel." - -"Another!" - -"Yes, another. Myself! Monsieur de Violaine will not perform his duty -to France in a half-hearted manner. He gives open ear to the first one -who tells him of spies being about he will not surely turn a deaf ear -to a second informer who wishes to denounce a traitor." - -"A traitor? Who is he? And who is to denounce him?" - -"I am the latter. The man you received in the citadel--Emile -Francbois--is the former. I claim the right to be received at the -citadel by you in the same manner that you received that man. Only, my -denunciation shall be an open one, made before others--not one made, -as doubtless this was, within closed doors." - -"So be it. The right is yours. When will Madame la Comtesse honour me -by----" - -"When? To-night. Now. At once!" - -"At once? It grows late." - -"Late! What matters the lateness of the night in comparison with the -exposure of a villain? Monsieur de Violaine, I demand to be allowed to -accompany your prisoner to the citadel and to hear what Emile -Francbois has to assert against him." - -"And I also," Sylvia said, since [illegible] ...tion had ceased by now -to be c [illegible] ... tones and could easily be overheard in the -guardroom. - -"You, Mademoiselle!" De Violaine exclaimed, not knowing but that -Sylvia was, in absolute truth, that which she was supposed to be, -namely the _dame de compagnie_ of Madame de Valorme. "You? Surely -Madame la Comtesse does not require your support at such a scene." - -"That," Sylvia said, as she stood tall and erect before the Governor, -so that he no longer deemed he was speaking to any other than a woman -who was herself of equal rank and position with the Comtesse, "that is -not the question. It was to enable me, to assist me to leave Liege, -to protect me as I did so, that your prisoner made his way to this -city--for this that the base, crawling creature, Francbois, denounced -him to you." - -"You are then Mademoiselle Thorne?" - -"I am Mademoiselle Thorne. If Francbois has much to tell you about -Monsieur Bracton, since that is his rightful name, so too have I," and -as Sylvia spoke her eyes were turned for a moment towards Bevill--for -a moment only, but it was enough. Enough to tell Bevill that, even -though he should be condemned to-night and executed at dawn, it -mattered little now. That glance had told him more than a hundred -words could do: it had told him he was the possessor of Sylvia's love! - -* * * * * * * - -The _salle d'armes_ of the citadel, in which half an hour later De -Violaine, the Comtesse, Sylvia, and Bevill stood, was large enough for -half a regiment to bivouac in, and had, indeed, in past ages served -for such a purpose, as well as many another of blacker memory. For in -that great hall, wainscotted with oak from floor to roof, that dark -hall in which those who stood at one end of it by night could scarce -see to the other, deeds of blood and cruelty had been perpetrated the -recollection of which had not by then been effaced. Here prisoners -innumerable had heard their doom pronounced; while on other occasions -those within the citadel had made many a last stand ere being captured -or slain. - -To-night this hall was but partly lighted by the wood that flamed in a -huge cresset at the further end of it, and by great, common candles -that flared from sconces fixed into the walls, while dropping masses -of grease to the open floor as they did so. - -Yet, sombre as was the light thus obtained, it served well enough for -what was now occurring. It served to show De Violaine standing before -the enormous empty fireplace that reached to the roof--one in which -many persons might sit as in a room and warm themselves on winter -nights; to show, also, the Comtesse de Valorme and Sylvia seated -together on a huge oaken bench on which, in earlier days than these, -Spanish, Burgundian, French, and Walloon soldiers had lolled as the -citadel was held in turn by their various rulers and generals--a bench -on which at times trembling prisoners had awaited the pronouncement of -their doom. Also, that light showed Bevill standing erect and calm not -far from where Sylvia was seated, with, behind him, four troopers of -the Regiment de Risbourg, which was quartered partly in the citadel -and partly in the Chartreuse, or Carthusian, monastery. - -There was, however, one other man present, behind whom there also -stood four soldiers. One other--Francbois. Francbois, white as a -phantom, yet speaking with an assumption of calm while protesting that -that which he was now saying was uttered in the interests of France -and justice. - -This protestation made, Francbois went on to state how, from the -moment he had seen the prisoner on the Quai, he had recognised him as -an Englishman with whom he had been at school in Paris years before; -and, consequently, in the interests of his beloved France he had -resolved to discover what reasons he might have for being in Liege. - -"Was it not possible," De Violaine asked, in his clear, quiet voice, -"that the reason the prisoner now gives for his presence here may have -been the true one--that he had come from England to escort his -compatriot, Mademoiselle Thorne, back to their country?" - -"Monsieur, had that been so this Englishman, Bracton, would have -proceeded differently. From the moment he landed at Antwerp, almost -from the first moment, his actions were marked by deceit and, alas! by -wickedness unparalleled. He landed under the assumed name that he has -borne here--Andre de Belleville. When he was recognised as an -Englishman by one whom he had deeply injured in earlier days, one whom -he had driven to ruin, he passed as an officer of Mousquetaires named -Le Blond----" - -"Le Blond of the Mousquetaires. He is long since dead. I knew him -well." - -"And I," said the Comtesse. "He was my cousin." - -"Monsieur," said Francbois, "it was that dead man's papers he -possessed himself of. The very horse he rides was that of Le Blond." - -"How," asked De Violaine, still with ominous calm, "are you acquainted -with these matters?" - -"Monsieur, the man whom he had so injured tracked him here--tracked -him when he had recovered from the wound inflicted on him at St. Trond -by the prisoner." - -"It is false," Bevill said now, speaking for the first time; "by -whomsoever the man may have been wounded at St Trond, that wound was -not given by me." While, as he spoke, he learnt for the first time how -it was that Sparmann had not denounced him at St. Trond, how it was -that he had been enabled to quit St. Trond without molestation. - -"In what way," said De Violaine, repeating what he had said before, -"are you acquainted with these matters? You tell me that they have -happened. What I desire to learn is who you have obtained your -knowledge of them?" - -"Monsieur le Gouverneur, that man--his name was Sparmann--came to -Liege when his wound was healed, still determined to expose, to -denounce the Englishman. He and I met--by--by--accident, and I -discovered what his intention was." - -"It is strange that the only two men in Antwerp who desired to -denounce the prisoner should have met. What was this man?" - -"He was a Hollander who had been vanquished by the prisoner in a duel. -For that he fell into ill-favour. Later, he became a spy of France." - -"A spy! You consort with spies!" - -"Ah!" murmured the Comtesse de Valorme at these words of the Governor, -yet the murmur was loud enough for all present to hear, and to notice -also that it was full of meaning--so full that, unconsciously, De -Violaine's eyes were turned to her for an instant. Then the latter -continued: - -"Nevertheless, this man has not denounced the prisoner. It may be he -confided that task to you." - - -[Illustration: "'I denounce this man.'"--_p_.755.] - - -"Monsieur," Francbois said now, and it was apparent to all that he was -about to make his supreme effort, "Monsieur," drawing himself up to -his full height, "I denounce this man, not because the task was -confided to me--I am no spy, no denouncer, whose office it is to do -these things--but because that other is not here to do it for himself. -He was murdered by that man, that Englishman, your prisoner!" - -"Liar!" exclaimed Bevill, and in a moment he had sprung at Francbois, -when, seizing him in a grasp of iron, he would have throttled him had -not the troopers intervened and torn Francbois from his grasp. "Liar! -If 'twas any who slew him that night in the Weiss Haus 'twas you!" -though even as he spoke he had his doubts, remembering the signs he -had discovered of the presence of a third man beside himself in -Sylvia's house. - -But now, amidst the excitement caused by Francbois' words and Bevill's -prompt action to avenge them, amidst the contemptuous exclamations of -both Sylvia and the Comtesse against Francbois (while, as the former -spoke, she had sprung from the oak bench and stood by Bevill's side, -whispering words of belief in his innocence of the horrible deed of -which he had been accused), De Violaine's quiet tones fell once more -on all their ears. - -"You declare this man murdered that other one, that spy. What is your -proof?" - -"I saw him do it," Francbois replied, though as he spoke he was -careful to draw close to the side of the soldiers. "I had gone there -with Sparmann to assist in capturing this man." - -"Yet did not give help. Had you no weapon with which to assist your -'friend,' your '_confrere_,' or, unable to do that, no power to avenge -his death?" - -"I--I----" Francbois stammered. "I----" - -"Enough!" De Violaine said. "Your story does not bear the impress of -truth upon it. Remove him," he said now to four of the soldiers. "It -needs," he continued, "that I learn more of you--of who and what you -are. There lies more matter behind all this than you have seen fit to -divulge." - -"That you shall know at once--on the instant!" the Comtesse exclaimed. -"Let him remain here and listen to what I have to narrate. Also let -Mr. Bracton remain. Beside what else there is to tell of that man, -Francbois, he hates this Englishman for a reason he has not deemed it -well to divulge--for the reason that he believes Sylvia Thorne----" - -"What!" De Violaine exclaimed, startled. - -"For the reason that he believes I love this man," Sylvia said, -drawing even closer to Bevill as she spoke, and holding out her hand -to him. Then, as Bevill clasped it in both of his, she turned and -looked the others proudly in the face, while adding: "As in truth I -do. If you slay him on that wretch's word, you slay the man I -love--the man who, I pray, may live to call me wife; the man who has -risked, perhaps thrown away, his life for me." - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - -The declaration by Sylvia of her love for Bevill had caused so much -agitation among those assembled in that gloomy _salle d'armes_ that, -for the moment, all forgot there was another declaration to be -heard--namely, the denunciation of Francbois by the Comtesse de -Valorme. To him who was most principally concerned--to Bevill -Bracton--the proclamation of Sylvia's love came not, however, so much -as a surprise--since, had she not loved him, the words she had but -hitherto whispered would never have been uttered at all by one so -calmly dignified and self-contained as she--as a joy supreme. In the -joy, too, was merged an honest, manly pride in having won for himself -the love of a woman who nobly, before all present, had not hesitated -openly to avow that love. - -And still, even now that the love was acknowledged, every action of -the girl as he drew close to her and, in his deepest murmur, whispered -his own love and pride in her, but tended to increase his reverence. -For as she--disdained all assumption of embarrassment, of having -uttered words before others which, in ordinary cases, should have been -whispered in his ears alone--now stood by his side with her hand still -clasped in his, and with her calm, clear eyes fixed on him, he -recognised more fully than ever he had done before how royally she was -clad with womanly dignity. It was given to him to understand how that -outspoken love for him had become her even as, oft-times, the murmured -confession of their love by other women becomes them. - -"Sylvia," he said now, "what shall I say, how prove to you all that is -in my heart? How repay the love you have given me, the love I hoped so -dearly to win?" - - -"Repay! Is it not mine to repay? You might have left me here alone. It -was in your power to go, yet you resolved to stay. And," she said, -gazing at him, "I love you. The words you uttered last night told me -of your love for me; to-night I have avowed my own in return. Yet, -ah!" she almost gasped, "in what a place, in what a spot, to plight -our troth, to exchange vows!" - -"Fear not, sweet one. The place matters nothing; the balm is -administered, is here," and he touched the lace above his heart. "Even -though they keep me prisoner for months, even though they slay me for -being that which, God knows, I am not----" - -"No, no, no! Not that! Not that!" she murmured, losing momentarily her -self-control and clenching her under-lip between her teeth to hide its -trembling. "Not that. It cannot be." Then looking up at him more -firmly, though now he saw her eyes were welling over with tears, she -added, "We have not met thus to part thus. It cannot, cannot be." - -"By Heaven's grace we will never part. Once free of this, once safe, -and--together--always together--we will never part on earth again. -Heart up, my sweet! Heart up!" While, as he spoke, the pressure of his -hand by hers told him that, as far as resolution could come to her -aid, she would never despair. Nay, more--if such a thing might -be--it conveyed in some subtle form to him the knowledge, the -assurance, that if there lay in her power any chance of saving him, -that chance would be exerted. Yet how, he asked himself, could she do -aught towards saving him? - -What was there to be done? His presence in this city, his assumption -of being French while actually the subject of France's most determined -enemy, was enough. - -Meanwhile, there were others present--one other at least, the -Comtesse--to whom this declaration of Sylvia had, if it came as a -surprise at all, only come as one by the manner in which it was made. -For she had seen enough, had observed enough to comprehend how, day by -day, this man and woman had been gradually drawing nearer and nearer -to one another; to discern how dear to each was the presence of the -other, and to perceive that, as so they were drawn closer and closer -together, the strands that drew them must tighten more and more until -they could never be unloosed. - -But if this avowal carried, therefore, no surprise to Madame de -Valorme, to Francbois it brought an added agony to that which had gone -before, even if, to him also, it brought no surprise. For he could not -but ask himself what he had gained by his betrayal of this man--a -betrayal that alone would have been justified, alone might have -claimed extenuation, had it been the outcome of an honest, -straightforward desire to serve the country he belonged to by injuring -its enemies. - -"Gained?" he reflected. He had gained nothing, while losing much, -perhaps everything. Sylvia Thorne loved this man; she was not the -woman to ever love another--above all, not him who had betrayed the -beloved one. And, yes he had given this rival into the hands of the -enemy. It might be, it doubtless was the case, that he had brought -about his doom; but there--there!--but a few paces from him was one, -his own connection, who was now about to send him also to his doom. -For she knew enough to do so; she had told him so that night in the -lane when, after the Englishman had disarmed him, she had taken him -apart, even as, in the same breath, she had told him that if harm came -to that other so it should come to him. And now--now--it had come to -that other. In a few more moments it would come to him. She was about -to speak. Gained! Out of his own mouth, by his own evil disposition, -he had brought about his own fate. - -As his mind was tortured thus the Comtesse de Valorme commenced the -exposure which must lead to his undoing. - -"Monsieur de Violaine," he heard her saying now, even as every fibre -in his body trembled and seemed to become relaxed and flaccid, while -the moisture stood in great drops on his cheeks and forehead, "you -have heard Mr. Bracton proclaimed a spy, though he is none, but only a -man who assumed a false name, a false nationality, to help a woman -whom," she added, "he loves. He is no spy; but, if he were, is a spy -worse than a traitor?" - -De Violaine started as she uttered these words, since he remembered -how the same thought, the same question, had arisen in his own mind -that very day; then in reply he said: - -"Each is an evil thing--contemned by all honourable men. Yet one man's -evil-doing does not justify that of another." - -"That is undoubted. Yet listen. This man," her eyes on Bevill, "is no -spy; this one," and they fell with withering contempt on Francbois, -"is a traitor." - -"Have you proof of your words?" De Violaine asked, his marvellous calm -always maintained. - -"Proof? Ay, as much as you require. Le Marechal de Boufflers comes -here ere long, it is said, to see that all is prepared, all ready to -resist the Allies; to, it is also said, resist Marlborough himself. -When he comes show him these, after you have read them yourself." As -she spoke thus the Comtesse de Valorme thrust her hand beneath the -great _houppelande_, or travelling cloak, she had set out in and still -wore; while, thrusting it next into the lace of her dress, she drew -forth a small bundle of papers. "There is enough matter there," she -said, "to hang a score of traitors." After which, turning to -Francbois, she added: "You should have burnt those long ago instead -of keeping them; or, keeping them, should have found sanctuary for -them in the college of your friends and patrons, the Jesuits. Van -Ryk's house, the house of a heretic," she said bitterly, "was a poor -depository for such things; the bureau in a room sometimes occupied by -a heretic woman the worst place of all." - -But Francbois was now almost in a state of collapse; it was necessary -for the stalwart troopers of the Risbourg dragoons to support him. For -at last he knew that, whatever might be the fate of this Englishman -whom he had striven to ruin, there was no ray of doubt about his own -fate; while--and this was the bitterest of all--he had brought that -fate upon himself. She, this tigress in woman's form, as he called her -to himself, had warned him in the lane behind Van Ryk's house that it -would be so if he betrayed the other; she had said the very same words -that she had but just now uttered; had said that she had enough proof -against him to hang a score of traitors. Only--she had not told him -the exact nature of that proof. While he, who received so many letters -by channels so devious that he could scarce remember how each reached -his hands, had lost all memory of how once, when disturbed, he had -thrust a small packet of them into the topmost drawer of an old bureau -in a room that he generally occupied, except when other guests were in -the house. In absolute fact, he had forgotten that bundle of letters -until now. - -For some moments Francbois could not speak; his breath seemed to have -failed him. Nay more, even though the breath had been there to give -utterance to his words, his mind was incapable of forming thoughts -that, in their turn, should be expressed in words. He could but gasp -and whine and raise his hand to his brow to wipe away the hot sweat -oozing from it; he was so prostrate that the sturdy dragoons holding -him thought that he would sink lifeless to the floor. Yet all the time -he knew that the eyes of the others were upon him, were fixed coldly -and contemptuously on him; the eyes of all except those of De -Violaine, who, beneath the greasy candle guttering in their sockets, -was reading the papers he had but now received. Yet, once Francbois -saw that the Governor turned over a letter again and re-read it, and -that--then he raised his eyes from the sheet and also looked at him -for an instant. In that instant Francbois anticipated, perhaps -experienced, the agonies of death a hundred times. - - -[Illustration: "Francbois saw that the Governor turned over a letter -again."] - - -At last, however, he found his voice: thoughts to utter by its aid -came to him. Struggling in the troopers' arms, he raised himself into -a firmer, a more upright position and was able to assume something -more of the attitude of a man. Then, freeing his right hand from the -grasp of one of the soldiers--the hand in which he held his -handkerchief, now a rolled-up ball--he lifted and pointed it towards -the Comtesse; after which he said, in a harsh, dry, raucous voice: - -"Spies! You--you--both--have talked of these." It may be he forgot in -his frenzy that from him alone had such talk originated. "So be it. -Yet, besides this English bully, this swashbuckler who slays in dark -houses, those who would bring him to justice, are then no others -present? What is this woman who in her self-righteousness denounces me -as a traitor----" - -"She has done more; she has proved you to be one," the Comtesse said. - -"What is she?" Francbois went on. "What? Her husband died a traitor at -the galleys; if women could be punished thus, she would be in a fair -way to do so, too. Is she no traitor? She? She who is here to meet -with Marlborough, or Cutts, or Athlone; to throw herself in their -path, to intrigue with them for an invasion of the South--she who -would have escaped to-night with those others had I not warned you of -her. Warned you! There was no need of that! You who, like her, are of -the South--a Camisard, a Cevenole." - -Again De Violaine looked at this man, and the look had in it more -terror for the abject creature than a thousand words might have -possessed; after which, addressing the soldiers, he said: - -"Remove both prisoners--each to a cell. Each of you," addressing both -Bevill and Francbois, "will be subjected to a general court-martial -when a sufficiency of officers can be collected to form it, and after -the Marechal de Boufflers and the Duc de Maine have been consulted. -Mesdames," addressing the Comtesse and Sylvia, "you must return whence -you set out. The Captain d'Aubenay and his men shall escort you." - -Thus the expedition, the escape from Liege, had failed, since all who -were to have gone on it, as well as he who prevented its -accomplishment, were prisoners. For that the Comtesse de Valorme and -Sylvia were now in a way--though a different one--as much prisoners as -Bevill Bracton and Francbois they could not doubt. Except that they -would be free of Van Ryk's house and gardens--free, possibly, of the -city itself--instead of being confined in some room, or rooms, in the -citadel, all freedom was gone from them, and they knew and understood -that it was so. - -But, still, in each of those women's hearts there had sprung up some -hope for the future, the reason whereof neither could have explained, -since whence hope was to come neither of them knew. From De Violaine -there was, of a certainty, nothing to be looked for. Though no -Camisard or Cevenole, as Francbois had stated, he was, nevertheless, a -Protestant serving a cruel King who oppressed those of his faith; yet, -being one, the Comtesse de Valorme knew well that nothing would turn -him from his loyalty. Neither his early love for her, nor any hope -that, now she was free, he might win her love, nor his belief--if such -were possible--that Bevill had done nothing to merit condemnation as a -spy, would weaken his fidelity so long as he bore the commission of -Louis. From him there was nothing to be looked for but a stern, -unflinching execution of his duty. And, if not from him, whence should -hope come? At present they could find no answer to this question that -they had each asked of their own hearts; they saw no glimmering ray to -give them confidence. And still--still each hoped already, and the -hope would never die within their hearts until the last chance was -gone. - -"I love him I love him! I love him!" Sylvia was whispering to herself -now, even as preparations were being made to remove Bevill from this -old, dark, and weird hall that reeked of the memories of innumerable -cruelties; Francbois being already removed. "I love him. And--and he -thought to save me. He deemed I needed assistance, rescue. Now it is -he who needs earthly salvation, he whose impending lot cries for -prompt succour. Ah, well! help, succour, shall be forthcoming unless I -die in an attempt to obtain it. Oh!" she gasped, her hands to her -breast, "they are leading him away--from me!" - -With one swift movement she was by Bevill's side; a moment later she -was clasped to his heart; another, and he was murmuring words of love -and farewell in her ears. - -"Adieu! Adieu, Sylvia," he said. "Nay, my sweet!" he whispered, "let -fall no tears; weep not for me. I have won your love; the happiest -hours of my life have come. Since I may be no more by your side--as -yet--I have the thoughts of you to solace me; the thought, the pride -of knowing I have won your love, that I alone dwell in your heart." - -While, seeing that De Violaine in his delicacy had turned his eyes -away, and was gazing into the great empty fireplace until this sad -parting should be made; seeing, too, that even the rough troopers had -turned their eyes from them, he embraced Sylvia for the first -time--the first time and, as he feared, the last. - -"I love you," he whispered. "Whate'er betide, remember my last words -are these. Remember that, if the worst befalls, my last thought shall -be of you, my last prayer for you, your name the last word on my lips. -Farewell." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - -The weather that, through the latter part of June and July, had held -so fine, had changed at last. With that persistency which for -centuries has caused all in the Netherlands to say that their climate -is the worst in Europe, or at least the most unreliable, a rainy -season had again set in accompanied by considerable cold. The rivers -were so swollen now that, in the case of all the great ones, the -usually slow, turgid streams had turned into swirling volumes of -water, resembling those which, in mountainous regions, pour forth from -their icy sources; even the smaller waterways had overflowed their -banks and submerged the low-lying fields around them. Thus, except in -some particular instances, all military operations had come to an end -for the time; the thousands of soldiers who composed the rival armies, -and were drawn from half the countries in Europe, lay idle in their -tents--when they had any--or in some town they had possessed -themselves of; or, in many cases, on the rain-soaked ground. - -Of these armies none suffered worse than did the principal portion of -the English forces--namely, that under the Earl of Marlborough. For -the torrid heat of July was all gone now--that heat of which, but a -week or so before, Marlborough had made mention in one of his frequent -letters to his wife, while adding the hope that it would ripen the -fruit in their gardens at St. Albans, the gardens so dear to him since -he knew well enough that she walked in them daily and thought always -of him. For whatever John Churchill's faults might be, and whatever -the faults of his beautiful but shrewish wife might be, neither failed -in their absorbing love for one another--the love that had sprung into -their hearts when he was but a colonel and gentleman of the bedchamber -to the Duke of York and she a maid of honour to the Duchess. - -The heat and fine weather were gone, and for refuge, there was little -but the open left for the English troops. It was true Kaiserswoerth was -taken at this time, Breda was occupied by the English, Maestricht was -the same, and Nimeguen had been long in our hands; but with these -exceptions Marlborough, with 60,000 men under his command, lay almost -entirely in the open. His lordship was at this time at Grave on the -Meuse on his way to Venloo, there to attempt the siege and capture of -that town, it lying some forty-five miles south of Grave and fifty -miles north of Liege. - -But however impassable, or almost impassable, the roads were at this -present moment, traffic on them, other than that caused by the French -and allied armies, had not ceased, for the sufficient reason that it -could by no possibility do so. Along every road there streamed wagons -and provisions, which, since the latter were to be offered to the -first would-be purchasers, were in little danger of being seized as -contraband of war by either side, especially as both the contending -forces paid for what they appropriated, though, as often as not, the -payment was not what the vendors demanded. - -Horsemen were also frequent on these same roads, since, provided they -were neither soldiers nor spies, nor bearers of despatches or -disguised letters, as was soon apparent if they were stopped and -searched rigorously, they were not molested, though in many cases the -errands upon which they rode were more harmful than even secret news -might have been. For many of these men were, under the assumed titles -of suttlers and army agents, nothing more nor less than professional -gamblers and "bankers," who, once they had got within the lines of -either army, contrived not only to strip the officers of all the ready -money they possessed, but also, in cases where they knew the standing -and family of many of these officers, to lend them money (which they -afterwards won back from them) at exorbitant rates of interest, the -payment of which frequently crippled them or their families for years. - -Besides these, there haunted the neighbourhood of the armies, like -ghouls or vampires, or those vultures which can scent bloodshed from -afar, a class of women, most of whom were horribly bedizened and -painted hags, who followed, perhaps, one of the most dreadful trades -to which women have ever turned their attention. But, though they -passed along these roads under false names and sometimes titles, and -rode in good hired vehicles and, as often as not, in handsome ones -that were their own property, they presented a different appearance -when a battle had taken place. For then their silks and satins, their -paint and patches, their lace and jewels, and also their pinchbeck -titles of marchionesses and countesses and baronesses, were discarded, -and they stood forth as they really were--as women still in women's -garb, it is true, yet in all else furies. With knives in their -girdles; with, in outside pockets or bags, the hilts of pistols and -some times--nay, often--rude surgical instruments bulging forth; with, -too, more than one gold-laced coat buttoned across them, or with the -sleeves knotted and with their other pockets crammed with scraps of -lace and costly wigs, and miniatures and gold pieces, they stood forth -as those earthly cormorants, _les chercheuses des morts_, and, in most -cases, as the murderesses of the living. With their knives or pistols -they put an end to the lives of wounded men, whom they afterwards -robbed of their money and trinkets, and, also with those knives, they -scalped the dying, since hair was valuable. Likewise, with their -surgical instruments they wrenched the teeth, also valuable, out of -dying or dead men's heads; while, if the wounded were still able to -protect themselves, they played another part, that of the Good -Samaritan, and offered them a drink of Nantz or usquebaugh, which -generally finished the business, since it was usually poisoned. - -Along a road between Venloo and Grave, over which a dyke had -overflowed from the heavy rains, so that the horses passing over it -were fetlock deep in mud, there went now a vehicle, or, rather, rough -country cart, springless and having for shelter nothing but a rough -covering of coarse tarred canvas supported on bent lathes. Seated on -the shaft of this cart was an old man who, out of tenderness for the -value of the beast that drew it, if not for the beast itself, never -proceeded at any but the slowest pace possible. Inside, under the -awning or cover, were Sylvia and Madame de Valorme, who, as is now -apparent, had managed to escape out of Liege. - -Yet it had been hard to do, and doubly hard to these two women, who, -the soul of honour, had to deal with one other--De Violaine--who was -himself a mirror of honour and loyalty. - -And still they had done it. - -In common with many other escapes recorded in past and even present -days, theirs had been accomplished in the most simple manner, namely, -by simplicity itself. Indeed, captives who, with their appearance -unknown to their warders, had walked out of their prisons, both before -and after this time; men who had been known to stroll out of such -places as the Bastille, or Vincennes, or Bicetre, and sometimes from -English prisons and lockups, as well as he who, on the road to the -guillotine, had escaped by the simple device of dropping out of the -back of the _charrette_ and then crying "_Vive la Revolution!_" and -"_A bas les aristocrats!_" had not done so more easily than had these -two women. - -Only, it had taken time for Sylvia and the Comtesse to arrange their -plans, and time, they soon knew, was of all things the most precious. -For De Violaine, who had one morning come down to the Comtesse de -Valorme from the citadel with a view to asking her why she had -jeopardised her own freedom by espousing the desires of the -Englishman, had confessed that, though Bevill could not at present be -brought to trial, his peril was still extreme. - -"De Boufflers is here," he said; "he has come to draw off all troops -that can be spared, as well as to examine the state of defence in -which Liege is." - -"To draw off the troops!" the Comtesse and Sylvia both exclaimed, -while the latter felt her heart sink within her at his words. "Is Lord -Marlborough not coming?" - -"Alas! it is because he is coming, mademoiselle, that it is done. We -who are French desire to oppose your general in every way, so that he -shall not reach Liege," and De Violaine sighed as he spoke; for he -knew as well as De Boufflers that, if Marlborough appeared before -Liege with one-fifth of those 60,000 men who were now under his -command, the city would probably fall an easy prey to him. - -"Why should this prevent an innocent or, at least, a harmless man from -being put to his trial and released?" the Comtesse asked. "What evil -has he, in truth, done? He has but committed a gallant action in -attempting to carry away to safety the compatriot whom he loves, the -woman who loves him." - -Now, in one way, Sylvia and the Comtesse had thrown dust in the -Governor's eyes from the beginning; they had concealed from him the -knowledge that Sylvia and Bevill had not been lovers when first the -latter made his way into Liege--the one piece of information, as they -shrewdly guessed, which might stand as Bevill's excuse, his -justification, for doing that which he had done. - -"And," the Comtesse continued, "beyond this, what sin against France -has Mr. Bracton committed? Is the fact that he, being an Englishman, -should also be a Protestant a crime?" - -"Nay, nay," De Violaine said; "that is no crime, else you and I are -criminals; but----" - -"But what?" - -"There are other matters that may weigh heavily against him. Ah! -mademoiselle," he cried suddenly, hearing a slight exclamation issue -from Sylvia's lips while noticing that the rich colouring had fled -from her cheeks, and that she seemed about to swoon, "I beseech of you -to take this calmly. All may be well yet." - -"What are these other matters, monsieur? On my part, I beseech you to -tell me," Sylvia almost gasped. - -"I--I? Nay, what need to tell? He may be absolved by the court that -tries him; his attempt to save the woman he loved may justify all. We -of our land are sometimes self-sacrificing in our love," with a swift -glance at Madame de Valorme; "we should scarcely bear hardly on a foe -for being so." - -Other glances that De Violaine did not see had, however, been -exchanged as he spoke thus--the glances of the two women as he uttered -those words, "his attempt to save the woman he loved may justify all." -Glances that conveyed to each the thought that was in the other's -mind--the understanding that, in no circumstances, must it ever be -known that the love had come to Bevill and Sylvia after they had met -in Liege, and not before. If that were known or discovered, one of -their principal hopes for his escape was gone. Also, as each of those -women flashed the signal to the other, each remembered, and in -remembering thanked Heaven, that even that base and crawling creature, -Francbois, believed the love to be of an earlier origin than Bevill's -arrival. Thence, therefore, sprang the hope that one frail chance in -his favour might still remain, and that, from this secret, aid might -be forthcoming. - -In an instant, however, since glances are almost as swift as lightning -itself, the episode had passed and Sylvia had asked once more: - -"What are those other matters? Ah! do not torture me with concealment. -You--surely you, must, noble as you appear to be--must have loved some -woman once, have won the desired love of some true woman. Think, I -implore you, think if her feelings had ever been wrung as mine are -now, if she had ever been distraught as I am, how your heart would -have been stirred with misery for her. Ah," she cried again, unable to -restrain her sobs, "if you cannot pity me, at least show pity for my -grief, my misfortune." - -"From my heart I pity you, mademoiselle," De Violaine said, while as -he spoke his voice was calm as ever, though, nevertheless, both women -knew that the calmness was but due to self-control. "Even though," and -now it seemed as if he braced himself to utter the next words, "I -may--never--have known what love is; above all, have--never--known -what it is to win the desired love of some true woman. Yet is pity -shown to those who suffer, to those who fear, by placing our hand upon -the sore, by telling them where the evil lurks?" - -"What we know is less than awful imaginings. Let me learn the worst -against the man I love," Sylvia continued, and now she was drawn to -her full height once more; except that her cheeks were still wet with -recent tears she was herself again. Tall, upright, almost commanding, -beautiful as ever, she stood before De Violaine, and, in her nobility -of nature, seemed to issue an order he dared not disregard. "Let me -know the worst. I will not live in further suspense." - -"A letter has been found upon him." - -"A letter! What letter?" her thoughts flying back fondly to the one he -had brought from her guardian--the letter that had commended Bevill -Bracton so much to her regard--the letter she had kept and read a -hundred times. - -"A letter from one who is our bitterest foe--a restless, intriguing -man seeking ever his country's glory and aggrandisement at the expense -of ours; ever intriguing against us, setting those who are well -disposed to us against us----" - -"Who is this man, perchance?" - -"The Earl of Peterborough." - -"Ah! and is he all that you say? He is my guardian, and was my -father's dearest, earliest friend." - -"Your guardian! Your father's dearest friend!" De Violaine repeated, -while inwardly he said to himself, "This must never be known. -Otherwise, Heaven help her! She will stand in almost as much danger as -her lover stands now, should it be discovered that she is -Peterborough's ward." - -But aloud he said, "In that letter Mr. Bracton"--De Violaine knowing -Bevill's proper name by this time as well as Sylvia or Madame de -Valorme knew it--"is addressed as 'cousin' by the Earl. Is he that?" - -"He is," Sylvia replied fearlessly. "Some degrees removed, yet still -his cousin." - -"He could scarcely own a worse kinsmanship--in--in De Boufflers' -eyes," De Violaine muttered once more--to himself. - -To himself he had muttered these words, yet words were not needed to -tell either of the others that here was a circumstance which must tell -hardly, cruelly, against Bevill. They understood that by some act of -forgetfulness, some inadvertency, he must have kept about him a letter -that prudence should have warned him to destroy the instant he had set -foot in the neighbourhood of the French; and now--now it would tell -against him with awful force. They could not doubt this to be the -case; no further doubt could exist in either of their minds. De -Violaine's face, as he thought to himself that the unfortunate -prisoner could scarce claim kinship with a more dangerous man in the -eyes of France than the Earl of Peterborough, had been enough to tell -them all, to banish all hope from their hearts. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - -If the Comtesse de Valorme had taken but a secondary part in the -conversation that had occurred, it was because she recognised that, to -Sylvia, the moment was all important. Also she recognised, or -understood well, that at the present moment the preservation, the -earthly salvation of Bevill Bracton, if such were possible, stood -before all else. Her own desires, her own hopes of coming into contact -with the Generalissimo of the allied armies, or, short of him, of -someone in high command, must, if only temporarily, give place to the -saving of this man so young and so fearless. Yet, even as this thought -possessed itself of her mind, she acknowledged that all power of so -saving him was outside the efforts of Sylvia or herself. - -What, she asked herself, was there that either of them could do to -assist in that salvation--they who were themselves in a sense -prisoners? De Boufflers was here at this moment; he would doubtless -make himself acquainted with everything in connection with the -prisoner, or, indeed, the prisoners; he would give orders as to what -was to be done in the form of a trial, a judgment; and against these -orders there could be no disobedience on the part of any. Nor could -there be any suggestions of mercy. There were none who could venture -to disobey or to suggest, or who, thus venturing, would be allowed a -moment's hearing; while, worse than all, the facts were overwhelming. -Bevill Bracton had placed himself in this position--a position that in -war time was the worst in which any alien could stand. For, having, as -an alien, obtained an entrance to Liege, he had next disobeyed the -stern order that no aliens who happened to be in the city should -attempt to leave it and thereby find the opportunity, should they -desire it, of communicating with the enemy. To all of which was added -the additional terror that, villain though he was, Francbois was a -Frenchman, and the Frenchmen who listened to what he had to say -might be tempted to believe his words. While, to cap everything, -a letter of Lord Peterborough's had been found in Bevill's -possession--Peterborough, of whom it was as well known in France as in -London itself that he had loudly denounced the French succession, had -counselled the rupture with France, and himself thirsted to take part -in the present war. - -Yet, even as Madame de Valorme acknowledged that there were none who -could help him who now stood in such imminent deadly danger, a -counter-thought, a counter-question ran through her brain like -wildfire. "Is it so?" she asked herself. "Is it truly so?" and almost -sickened as she found the answer that there were two persons who still -had it in their power to afford timely help, though, in doing so, -their own feelings, their own self-respect, their sense of honour, -might be forfeited. The first was one who might be brought to -influence the council, the court-martial that decided the unlucky -man's fate--De Violaine! - -And the second was one who might influence him. Ah, yes! She, the -woman he had loved and lost--the woman whom--since it was idle to -juggle with herself--he still loved. Herself! - -Herself! and the moment had come when, if it were to be done she must -do it, though, even as she knew that it was so, she loathed, execrated -herself. For in her heart there dwelt, as there would ever dwell, the -thought, the memory, of her unhappy husband who had died beneath the -horrible tortures, the beatings, the sweat, the labour of the galleys; -while in De Violaine's own heart there dwelt one thing above all--his -honour, his loyalty to the country he loved and served and to the King -he despised, yet had deeply pledged himself to obey faithfully. - -But still the essay must be made. The honest, upright life of Bevill -Bracton should not be sacrificed without some effort on her part, -wicked though that effort might be, and surely--surely God would -forgive her! The sweet, fair promise of Sylvia's young life should not -be wrecked if she stood, if she could stand, for aught. - -And the moment had come. Sylvia had left the room, unable to bear -further emotion; had left it to retire to her own room, there to cast -herself on her knees and pray for Heaven's mercy on him she had learnt -to love so fondly. The Comtesse de Valorme and De Violaine were alone. -He was glancing out through the window at the garden, now drenched -with rain, while she was seated by the table as she had been seated -since first he was announced. - - -[Illustration: "Almost in a whisper the Comptess spoke."--_p_. 850.] - - -For an instant the silence between them was unbroken; then, almost in -a whisper, the Comtesse de Valorme spoke to the man who still stood -with his back to her. For this was no moment for the practising of -that ceremony which was the essence of all intercourse between the -well-bred of those days, but, instead, a moment when courtesy must -sink before those emotions that sometimes in men and women's lives -pluck at and rend their hearts At last, however, the woman spoke, and -the man was forced to turn round and meet her gaze. - -"Andre de Violaine," she said now, and he observed how her voice -faltered as she uttered the words and how her colour came and went, -"have you forgotten a promise, a vow you once made me ten years ago, -while demanding no vow in return from me?" - -"I have forgotten nothing," the other answered, his voice more calm -than hers as he turned towards her, yet with his eyes lowered so that -they did not meet hers. "I have forgotten neither vows nor -hopes--vows, the fulfilment of which has never been demanded; hopes -that withered even as they blossomed. Shall I recall them, to show how -clear my memory is?" - -"Nay; rather let me do so. I recall a man who vowed in days gone -by--far off now--that there should be no demand a woman--I--could ever -make of him that he would not meet, not carry out by some means, even -though at the cost of his life." - -"His life," De Violaine said, lifting his eyes suddenly to hers. "His -life. Yes." - -"What can a man give that is more precious? What else is there for him -to fear who fears not death, the end of life?" - -"Nothing," De Violaine said now, leaving that question unanswered, -"has ever been demanded of me by that woman--by you. Madame, there are -some men so lowly, so unheeded in this world, that favours from them -are scarce worth accepting or even asking for. Had you ever called on -me to do you any service, to give you even my life, the service would -have been done, would have been given without a moment's hesitation." - -"How he dwells on the word life!" the Comtesse said to herself. "How -he shields himself behind it! Because he knows there is another word -neither of us dares utter." Yet, a moment later, she was to hear that -word uttered. - -Then she continued: - -"And now it is too late to ask for favours. That time is too long past -for vows to have kept fresh--even as, perhaps," and he saw she -trembled, it may be shuddered, as she spoke the words, "it is for -hopes." - -"Too late for vows to be redeemed? No. For life to be freely given if -required? No. For hopes? Yes, since no price can be demanded for the -fulfilment of those vows." - -"Is hope dead within your heart, or has it but turned to -indifference?" - -"Radegonde," De Violaine said now, speaking quickly, yet with a tremor -in his voice, "all hope died within my heart ten years ago, on the day -when, at Nimes, you married Gabriel de Valorme. Nay," seeing she was -about to speak, "do not tell me that he is dead; I know it now. But -his memory, your love for him, is not dead." - -"Ah!" the Comtesse gasped. For De Violaine's words were true, and she -despised herself for having, even in so great a cause as this she was -now concerned in, endeavoured to rouse fresh hopes within De -Violaine's breast. - -"Now," the latter said, "tell me what you desire--what your words -mean. Though you are still wedded in your heart to Gabriel, still -bound to him by memory's chain, there yet remains--my--life." - -"No, no," she almost cried; "not that. Why should I ask your life--I -who slew the happiness of that life--I who could not give you what was -not mine to give? Instead----" - -"Yes--instead?" - -"I seek to save a life, a guiltless one." Then, rising from her chair -and advancing close to De Violaine, she said, "You can preserve this -Englishman. If," and she wrestled with herself, strung herself -masterfully to utter the words, "if you ever loved me, if in your -heart there still dwells the memory of that dead and gone love, I -beseech you to save him. He is innocent of aught against France." - -"The memory of that love is there, never to be effaced; but for what -you ask--it is impossible." - -"Oh! oh! And this is the man who vowed to give his life to me!" the -Comtesse murmured. "The man who is supreme here, in Liege, yet will -not do that!" - -"My life is yours, now as it has ever been--to do with as you -will--instantly--to-day, at once. But you demand more of me; you ask -that which I cannot give--my honour! You have said that he who fears -not death fears nothing. Alas! you--you--Radegonde de Montigny, as -once you were when first I knew and--Heaven help me!--loved you; you, -Radegonde de Valorme as you now are, should know that death is little -beside honour: and I, before all, am a soldier." - -"You will do nothing?" - -"I can do nothing." - -Madame de Valorme sank into the chair she had quitted a moment ago, -and sat there, no longer gazing at him, but, instead, at the ground. -Then, suddenly, she looked up at De Violaine, and he saw so strange a -light in her eyes that he was filled with wonderment at what the -meaning might be--filled with wonderment, though, as she spoke again, -he understood, or thought he understood; for now, though using almost -the same words she had but just uttered, they were uttered in so -different a tone that he deemed understanding had come to him. - -"_In no case_ will you do anything?" - -"In no case," he answered in a tone so sad that it wrung her heart. -"Whatever may be, can be, done, cannot be done by me." - -After which, without attempting to touch her hand even in the most -formal way, De Violaine whispered the word "Farewell," and left her. - -And she knew that in one way she had won what she desired. She knew -that, should she and Sylvia attempt anything which might have in it -the germ of a chance for Bevill's ultimate escape from death, that -attempt would not be frustrated by him, although he would have no hand -in it. - -From this time the two women turned their thoughts to but one -thing--their own chances of quitting Liege and communicating with -Marlborough. While, as they did so, they remembered that, in a way at -least, these chances must be more favourable than heretofore. There -was now no such crawling snake as Francbois at liberty to spy on them -or to denounce them and their plans when once he knew them. - -Meditating always on what steps might be taken to ensure the success -of this evasion, consulting with Van Ryk on what opportunities might -arise, even as, for exercise and fresh air, they walked about the -quays or drove in and round the city, it gradually became apparent to -them that the attempt need not be hard of accomplishment. Many of the -French soldiers had been at this moment withdrawn, since De Boufflers -had decided that it was best to mass them on the road the English -forces must traverse, and so, if possible, check Marlborough ere he -could reach Liege, instead of awaiting his attack on the city itself. -Meanwhile, they observed many other things. They saw that all the -gates were open in the mornings for the entrance of the peasantry with -their country produce, and, afterwards, for their exit; they perceived -also that those who came in with the sparse provender they still had -left for sale did so with the slightest of inspection, and, with their -baskets and panniers over their arms, went out entirely unmolested. - -"Alone we could do it," the Comtesse said. "I know it, feel it. Only, -each must do it alone--you at one gate, I at another. And, outside, we -could meet directly it was done. Seraing is close--'tis but a -walk--so, too, is Herstal. And Herstal is better; it is on the way we -must go." - -"Doubtless," said Sylvia, "it is best we go alone, apart. Thus, if one -is stopped, the other may escape, may be able to continue the attempt -alone. Ah! Radegonde, if we should succeed! If we should be in time to -save him!" - -"Ay! 'tis that. If we should be in time! Yet time is one's best -friend! They will not try him yet. They cannot. Except at the citadel -and in the Chartreuse, Liege is almost denuded of troops for the -moment. There are not enough officers to try him now, and--and--I know -it, am sure of it--De Violaine will not advance matters. Oh! Sylvia, -we must succeed." - -So now they made all plans for ensuring their success, and decided -that, on the next morning after this conversation, those plans should -be put into execution. Fortunately one thing--money--was not wanting -to aid them. - -That next morning broke wet and stormy; the rain poured down at -intervals, though followed, also at intervals, by slight cessations in -the downpour, and by transient gleams of sunshine. Owing to which the -peasant women who had sold their fowls and eggs and vegetables, as -well as those who had been less successful, were forced to cower -under antique stoops around the markets or under the market roofs -themselves, or to trudge away in their heavy sabots--which, at least, -served to keep their feet dry--towards the gates and out into the open -country. - -Amongst others who were doing the latter was a tall, fine peasant girl -whose eyes, gleaming out from beneath the coarse shawl thrown over her -head, belied, in their sombre gravity, the old Walloon song she hummed -as she went along. A tall, fine girl, who, with her basket over her -arm, splashed through the mud and slush until she reached the -northeast gate and asked the corporal, who stood carefully out of the -rain, if he did not require a fowl for his _pot-au-feu_ or some eggs -for his midday meal. - -"If I had a wife like you to cook them for me!" the Frenchman -gallantly replied. "But, tell me, are all the girls from Herstal as -handsome as you?" - -"Handsomer," the peasant girl replied lightly. "My sister to wit. Buy -some eggs from me, corporal." - - -[Illustration: "Seeing a strange look in the girl's eyes, he changed -the word he was about to utter"--_p_. 852.] - - -"I have no money, and eggs are dear here now. Give me one for----" -Then, seeing a strange look in the girl's eyes, he changed the word he -was about to utter into "luck." - -But since the peasant was now outside the gate it may be that, even if -he had said "love" instead "luck," it would have made little -difference to her. For she was out of Liege; she was free--free to -begin her efforts, her attempt, mad as it might be, to rescue the one -man on earth with whom and whose name the word and meaning of love -could ever be associated in her mind. - -Free to stride on in her coarse, rain-soaked peasant dress towards the -village of Herstal, and, when two hundred yards from it, to fling -herself into the arms of another peasant woman some few years older -than herself and to murmur, "Outside and free, Radegonde! Oh, thank -God! thank God! Free to attempt to save him." - -"Ay, and free to set out at once. Mynheer Van Ryk's old domestic still -keeps the inn here. The _charrette_ is ready. We have but to remove -these peasants' clothes and sabots, and we can depart. Come, Sylvia, -come!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - -Had Philip Wouvermans lived half a century later than he did, the -splendid brush he wielded would have found greater scope in the region -he knew so well than it ever obtained, superb as his work was. For -now, over all that portion of Europe known generically as the -Netherlands, or Low Countries, there was the movement and the -colouring this master delighted in--armies marching and fro, encamping -one night at one place and at another on the next, bivouacking here -to-day and there to-morrow, attacking or attacked, conquering or being -repulsed. Armies, regiments, even small detachments, were clad -sometimes in the royal blue of France, sometimes in the scarlet of -England; while, intermixed with the former, might be seen the yellow -grey of Spain or the dark green of Bavaria; and, with the latter, the -snuff-brown of Holland or the pale blue of Austria. As they marched -along the roads, singing the songs of the lands from which they drew -their birth, or across fields, the ripened corn and wheat were -trampled under their and their chargers' feet or beneath the coarse, -iron-bound wheels of their gun carriages, since, now that war was over -and around all, the luckless peasants and landowners found but little -opportunity of reaping those fields. - -Yet neither was it the passage of these armies alone that disturbed -those unfortunate dwellers in the scene of contest, since, sometimes, -their fields and orchards and copses would witness some small yet -sanguinary conflict between the hostile forces. On such occasions -their downtrodden corn would become dyed crimson; the branches of -their fruit trees would be cut down by whistling musket bullets or -heavy cannon balls; their copses, sought out for shelter, would become -the death-bed of many a gallant man whose eyes had opened to the light -in lands far distant from those in which they finally closed. And -then, routed, the vanquished would not march but rush along the roads -once more, the victors would hurry after them in furious pursuit, and -the unhappy owners of the soil and all it bore would be left bemoaning -the ruin that had befallen them, ruin that the passage of years could -alone repair. - -Amid such scenes as these the Comtesse de Valorme and Sylvia were -passing now as gradually they drew near to Maestricht, where, as they -had learnt, they would, even if they did not come into touch with some -portion of the English army, at least discover something as to its -whereabouts. They knew this, they had learnt it, by words overheard -outside inns at which they halted at nights; by witnessing the frantic -gestures and listening to the excited talk of the half-Brabant, -half-Guelderland boors as they discussed the coming of the English and -others. Also, they had learnt by now that to make their way easily -along these roads it were best they should be anything but French; for -the English were sweeping like a tornado through all the land, the -French were in most instances retreating or fortifying themselves in -old towns and castles; the English, for whom all Netherlanders had -been looking so long, were at hand at last. - -Therefore, from now, neither Sylvia nor the Comtesse spoke in anything -but English, excepting only when the native dialect was necessary to -cause their desires to be understood, when Sylvia, whose long -residence in Liege had enabled her to be well acquainted with the -local dialects, used that. - -"There is no news of the approach of the allied forces as yet?" the -Comtesse asked, as Sylvia, looking out of a carriage they had taken -possession of when they had discarded the rough country _charrette_, -drew in her head after a slight conversation with a peasant. - -"None," the girl answered wearily. "None. And during all this time -they may have----" and she paused, shuddering. - -"Nay, dear heart," the Comtesse said, her English clear and distinct -as it had been when she astonished Bevill by addressing him in it. -"Nay, have no fear. I--I--extorted from De Violaine--Heaven help me! I -was but endeavouring to play on his memories of the past for our, for -your sake--the knowledge that he could not yet be brought to trial. I -myself have no fear of that." - -"I myself cannot but have fears; for he has won my heart, my love. Oh! -Radegonde, had it been you who loved him, you whom he loved, you could -not be as calm as now you are." - -"It may be so," the Comtesse said softly. "Doubtless it would have -been so had it chanced that I had learned to love him--if he had -learned to love me," and then was silent. - -Something, however, some strange inflection in her voice caused Sylvia -to look round at her companion, when, seeing that the Comtesse's face -was averted, and that she was gazing out of the window, she added: - -"Ah! forgive me. Who am I, a girl who has but now found happiness in a -man's love, to speak thus to you who have suffered so--to you whose -own heart died with M. de Valorme?" - -But the Comtesse, beyond a whispered "Yes," said no more. - -That, however, these two women, always good friends and companions and -now united in one great desire--the desire of saving the life of a man -who possessed in their eyes the greatest charm that can, perhaps, -appeal to woman's nature, that of heroism--should cease to talk of him -as much as they thought of him, is not to be supposed. While, as they -so thought and also talked, each was reflecting on every chance -favourable and unfavourable that might tell for or against their hero. - -"Who was this spy, I wonder," Sylvia said now, "of whom Francbois -spoke? The man whom he accused Bevill of slaying that night in the -Weiss Haus? Radegonde, did he confide in you?" - -"No more than in you," the Comtesse answered. "Surely, too, he would -have chosen the woman he loved for his confidante?" - -"Or, rather, have doubly feared to confide in that woman and to, -thereby, bring fresh misery to the heart he had but just won for his -own." - -"Ah, yes," the Comtesse said, again in a low voice. "Doubtless that -was his reason." - -Returning, however, to the matter of the spy, Sylvia, who thought that -in this man's death might lurk some deeper danger to Bevill than even -that which was threatened by his obtaining entrance into a town -beleaguered by the French, and by his doing so under a false name, as -well as doubly threatened through a letter from Lord Peterborough -being found in his possession--asked again: - -"Not even in your journey from Louvain to Liege did he mention him?" - -"Yes, if this man is the same as he who sought to have him detained, -first at Antwerp and afterwards at St. Trond; if, too, Emile Francbois -has not coined one further lie in his desire to ruin him. Yet you know -all this as well as I, Sylvia. You have learnt from Mr. Bracton of his -escape from Antwerp on the horse, with the passport of Le Blond, and -of how, after seeing the man again at St. Trond, he left the place -next morning before I did so, though that man had then disappeared and -had not even returned to his lodging at the inn where they both put -up." - -"Yes, that I know. He told me more than once of his escapes from the -broken soldier, Sparmann, who had become a spy in the service of his -country's enemies, as also he told me how he hated passing under a -false name, a false guise, no matter how good the cause was. Ah!" she -went on, "his honour, his full sense of honour shone forth in every -regret he uttered, even while he acknowledged how good was the cause -which compelled the subterfuge. It must be Sparmann who was wounded to -the death in my house, though not by Bevill, since he denies it. Yet, -had he in truth slain the man who sought to slay him, it would have -been no crime." - -"He did not slay him. His every action, his every tone, when Francbois -denounced him as having done so, was a testimony to the truth of his -denial; though, since both Sparmann and Francbois were each working to -the same end, were each in that lonely deserted house, intent on -slaying Bevill--Mr. Bracton--why should they fight, why should each -attempt to slay the other?" - -"Ah!" murmured Sylvia, "if we could but know that--which, alas! we -never shall, since Sparmann is dead, and Francbois will never utter -aught but lies--then that heavy charge against him would be removed." - -"It is in truth the heaviest, if not the one that will bear hardest of -all against him." - -"Which, then, is the worst?" - -"The possession of Lord Peterborough's letter. Sylvia," the Comtesse -said, strangely agitated as she thought on all that threatened Bevill. -"If the Allies have not taken Liege ere he is tried, I dread to think -of what may befall him. I pray God that Lord Marlborough may already -be on his road." - -After which both women became so overcome and, indeed, almost -hysterical by the terror of what might happen to Bevill, that for a -time they could speak no more, but, instead, took refuge in tears. - -They could not, however, cease their endeavours to discover what -chances there were of Marlborough being somewhere in the immediate -neighbourhood. They recognised that, even if he were near and they -could reach him and obtain speech with him, the mission on which they -came could have but little, if indeed it had any, influence on his -plans, all-absorbing though that mission was to them. Only they were -distracted with grief and horror of what was impending in Liege, and -in their distraction clutched at the only hope in the existence of -which they could believe. - -The carriage was at this time passing through one of those many -plantations of young trees that, from far-off times, it has been the -custom of the inhabitants of this rich marshy soil to plant at regular -intervals, with a view to always providing themselves with vast stocks -of timber for building as well as fuel. But since the road, if it were -worthy of the name, was not only a muddy track but also encumbered by -logs of felled wood that had been thrown across it by some of the many -contending forces with the intention of impeding the progress of their -rivals, the vehicle proceeded but slowly when it proceeded at all, and -often enough the wheels stuck fast. - -Looking out of the window as an obstruction once more occurred for -about the tenth time since the carriage had entered this plantation, -or young forest, Sylvia suddenly uttered an exclamation; while, -drawing in her head, she said in a tone that the Comtesse could not -mistake for aught but one of joy: - -"They are here! We have found them! Heaven above be praised!" - -"Here? Who?" the Comtesse also exclaimed. "The English? The Allies?" - -"Some of them at least. Oh! Radegonde, I have seen their scarlet -coats, and, on one, the gorget of our dragoon officers. Yet, alas! -alas! they are retiring; he who wears the gorget has disappeared -behind a larger tree than all the others." - -"Cry out then! Cry to him! Call him back! Let us do anything to arrest -their attention. If we fail to speak with them now we may not find -their commander for days." - -"No, no; we need not," Sylvia again exclaimed now. "They have observed -us. They are coming towards us, doubtless to see what this carriage -contains. Two officers. And they _are_ English. Thank God!" - -As she said, so it was. The two officers now approaching the carriage -had seen it long before Sylvia had perceived them, and were at once -inspired with the scouts'--for such they and their men were--proper -sense of duty, namely, to discover what was the business of everyone -with whom they might chance to come into contact. But--as the phrase -which had sprung into use when the century, still so young, had but -just dawned, ran--"It was seventeen hundred and war time," and, above -almost all else, in war time prudence is necessary. Therefore, on -seeing the carriage approach, the officers had retreated behind the -great tree, while their troopers had ridden deeper into the plantation -and, from there, the former had been able to observe who and what were -those inside the vehicle. - -"Women!" one said to the other. "Dangerous enough sometimes, when -armed for our subjection and clad in velvet and Valenciennes, yet -harmless here, unless they be spies of the enemy. No matter, 'tis our -duty to discover who and what they are." Whereupon the officers turned -their horses' heads towards the carriage, and the animals picked their -way through what was almost a quagmire until they reached it. - - -[Illustration: "Their laced hats in hand, the two young men drew near -the window."] - - -Their laced hats in hand, the two young men bowed gracefully as they -drew near the window, after which the captain, speaking in fair -French, though not such as Bevill Bracton spoke, asked in a gentle, -well-bred voice if there were any directions or assistance they could -give mesdames to aid them on their route? But, ere he had concluded -his courteous speech, he halted in it and finished it in but a -shambling manner; for his eyes, discreetly as he had used them to -observe the equal, though different, beauty of each woman, had told -him that one at least of those before him was not seen for the first -time. And that one--the Comtesse--was herself gazing fixedly at him. - -"Madame travels far; madame's journey is not yet concluded," he -murmured. "Madame has left Liege." - -"It is so, monsieur," the Comtesse said speaking in English. "I -understand monsieur. It was outside St. Trond that he saw me when his -late brother officer, Mr. Bracton, joined me," while as she spoke she -felt Sylvia start. - -"That is the case, madame. But madame still travels on, though -unaccompanied by Bracton. Another companion," he said, with a faint -but respectful smile, "has usurped his place. Does he still remain in -Liege; has he not yet succeeded in that which he desired to -do--namely, in removing the lady he went to seek from out the grasp of -our good friends the French?" - -It was not, however, Madame de Valorme who answered his question, but, -instead, her companion. - -"Sir," said Sylvia--and as the captain's glance was drawn to her as -she spoke he saw that her large grey eyes were full of a sadness that, -to his mind at least, by no means obscured her beauty--"I am the woman -he went to seek." - -"You? Yet you are here alone. Where, then, is he?" - -"Alas! alas! he is a prisoner. He--oh! it is hard to tell, to utter. -He did all that man might do, but he was denounced to M. de Violaine -by a vile spy who recognised him, and--and--ah! God help him, he is a -prisoner in the citadel; and I--I--am free--I who should be by his -side in safety or in danger. I who should be as much a prisoner as -he." - -Bewildered, the young man looked from Sylvia to the Comtesse and then -back to Sylvia, while muttering, "We heard something of that spy and -what he attempted on him at Antwerp and St. Trond----" - -"That is not the man. He is dead----" - -"Bracton slew him at last!" - -"No, no! Another--some other did so. Perhaps the man who finally -betrayed him," the Comtesse de Valorme said, since Sylvia seemed now -almost incapable of speaking, so agitated had she become. After which, -seeing that the captain of dragoons appeared to be totally unable to -gather the meaning of what had happened, though recognising the danger -in which Bevill stood, the Comtesse at once proceeded to give him as -brief, though clear, an account of all that had occurred in Liege as -it was possible to do. And, also, she told him their fears for what -might still occur ere long. But one thing she did not tell -him--namely, of how her own original desire of reaching Marlborough -with a view to imploring his influence that aid might be sent to the -Cevennes had, for the moment, given place to a far greater desire--the -desire of in some way obtaining Bevill's earthly salvation, the -salvation of a man whose life, though now bound up in that of Sylvia's -as Sylvia's was in his, had become very precious to her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -Captain Barringer--as the young officer of dragoons had now told -Sylvia and the Comtesse his name was, while presenting the lieutenant -to them as Sir George Saxby--showed both by his tone and words that -the gravity of Bevill's position was extreme, though he took care to -add that the fact of there being no Court of Inquiry ready to be -formed at the present moment was a considerable point in his chance of -ultimate escape. - -In absolute fact, however, had it not been for the grief-stricken face -of the handsome girl before him, the girl in whose eyes the tears now -welled and hung upon the lids, even if they did not drop, and also the -grave, solemn face of the Comtesse--he might have told them, as gently -as possible, that in his soldier's mind the chances of Bevill's escape -were almost nonexistent. "What," he asked himself, the question being -but a flash of thought through his brain, and not expressed in words, -"would our commanders have done had a Frenchman made his way into one -of the strong places we now hold, as Bracton has made his way into -Liege? What, if he were accused of slaying one of our supposed spies, -if he had in his possession a letter from as great a hater of England -as Lord Peterborough is of France, and if, contrary to all orders -issued, he had endeavoured to escape out of one of those places with a -young Frenchwoman who might divulge to her countrymen our plans and -intentions? What, also, if that Frenchman had passed as an Englishman -and had possession of two false passports made out in English names?" - -Yet in another instant there had flashed to this astute young -officer's mind another thought--one that was, this time, a -recollection. - -He recalled how at Nimeguen an almost similar case to this had -occurred a little before Marshal de Boufflers had attempted to -retrieve that city for the French, to wrest it from the Allies' hands. -A Frenchman, named the Marquis de Cabrieres, a gentleman and gallant, -too, had managed to obtain entrance into the place under the guise of -an Englishman--a Jersey man--armed with papers describing him as a -subject of the Queen; and had then endeavoured to assist a young -French lady, his affianced wife, to leave in disguise under his care. -Now he lay under sentence of death, since the warrant awaited the -signature of Marlborough or Athlone when they should be in the -neighbourhood again. - -But a flash of thought alone, of memory, was all that passed through -the young officer's mind, even as Sir George Saxby was telling Sylvia -and the Comtesse that at this moment the Earl was encamped near a -village called Asch, but half a day's journey off; yet his sudden -recollection was enough--enough to convince him that, even as De -Cabrieres was doomed by the English, so must Bevill Bracton be by the -French for a parallel offence. - -Now, however, he had no further time for reflection. Sylvia, hearing -of their nearness to the one man who, in their minds, could by any -possibility save her lover, was imploring both captain and lieutenant -to either conduct them to where the great English commander was, or at -least to direct them on the way to him. - -"We can escort you," Captain Barringer now said, forcing himself to -drive the above thoughts away and answer her, "since we are even now -on our way to Asch. There is little more to be learnt here; for the -moment the ground is clear of Frenchmen and Spaniards. Though, -doubtless, ladies, you will scarcely believe," he went on in a -purposely assumed lighter vein, hoping thereby to banish the agony of -mind in which both the Comtesse and Sylvia were, "what excellent -neighbours, warm and close, we have been sometimes with those -Frenchmen and Spaniards. A hedge, a little copse, has sometimes only -divided our pickets and outposts from theirs; the very tables on which -we have broken our fast at some tavern have been used by them for the -same purpose but an hour before; and sometimes, too, we have -courteously exchanged a few volleys of musket balls with each other, -but that is all! The great battle that must come soon is not yet; not -yet. Still, it will come," he added more gravely. - -And now they set forth for Asch, though but slowly and with -difficulty, since the wheels of the carriage (which was only a coarse -country thing, large and cumbersome and roughly made) had by now sunk -deep into the oozy morass, and required not only the efforts of the -driver, but also those of the troopers, to force it on its way. -Nevertheless, Sylvia and her companion were soon on their road towards -the goal of their hopes, but, although such was the case, Captain -Barringer deemed it necessary to say that it was by no means certain -that, even when they had reached the end of their journey, they would -be able to see and speak with Marlborough. - -"For his secretary, Mr. Cardonnel, guards him like a fiery dragon," -the captain said; "and he is surrounded by his staff, who are also -veritable watch-dogs; notwithstanding which we will hope for the best. -While, since my Lord Marlborough is a very gallant gentleman, he will -surely turn no deaf ear to ladies who desire to ask his services?" - -With which, and many other courteous as well as hope-inspiring -phrases, not only Captain Barringer but also Sir George Saxby -endeavoured to cheer the way for these who were now under their -protection. - - -It was as the sun set that, from the windows of the rough carriage, -Sylvia and the Comtesse gazed out upon the lines of the English army -upon which were fixed the hopes of all who still trembled in fear of -the powerful and arrogant monarch who from Versailles sent out his -orders for wholesale spoliation and aggrandisement. He was the hope of -Protestants in the sunny south of France, as well as of those in the -more temperate land of Prussia and of those who dwelt all along the -fair banks of the Rhine; the hope of all those who inhabited that vast -district which stretched from the German ocean to the north of France -on one side, and to Hanover another. While--bitter mockery when -it is remembered what the origin of the present war was!--the same -hopes for the downfall of this Grand Monarque--this prince termed the -"God-sent"--were felt in far-off Spain by Roman Catholic hidalgos who -loathed the thought that a French king should sit upon the throne once -owned by those in whose veins ran the blood of Castile, of Aragon, the -Asturias, and Trastamara. Hopes shared, too, though silently, by the -rude fishermen of Biscay and Galicia as well as by the outlaws and -brigands of Traz os Montes and Cantabria, who, while they bowed the -knee to Romish emblems and statues, cursed in their lawless hearts the -monarch who would endeavour to obtain for himself the throne that they -and their forerunners of centuries had fought for, while putting aside -temporarily their existence of plunder and brigandage. - -Beneath a blood-red sun setting behind purple clouds that told of -further storms and downpours still to come, the Comtesse de Valorme -and Sylvia saw the long English line stretching from village to -village; from the hamlet of Asch on the right to that of Ghenck on the -left, and with Recken and Grimi on either flank. Also, they saw that -with which both were well acquainted--the banner of England flying -from a large tent in the middle of the camp, as well as the colours of -regiments which, in that day, young in service, have since transmitted -and gloriously maintained the reputation then acquired. - -"Here, if nowhere else," the Comtesse said, "one should feel safe; -yet, oh!" she whispered half to herself, "that I, a Frenchwoman, -should have to seek double succour from my country's enemies! Simply -because the ambition, the fanaticism of one man bears heavily on -thousands of lives. Double succour! On one side for my own people; on -the other for one, also my country's foeman, whom I have learned--to -pity." - -But Sylvia heard her words, low as the murmur was in which they were -spoken, and answered gently: - -"You are but one of all those thousands whose hearts he--this splendid -bigot--is turning from him; but one alone of those who, throwing off -their allegiance to him for ever, are peopling lands strange to them. -Regret it not, reproach not yourself for that. Better die an outcast, -yet free; a voluntary exile than an ill-treated subject, a slave. -While as for Bevill--but ah! I dare not speak, not think of him. -Beyond Heaven, in whose hands we all are, his--our--hopes are in him -whom now we go to seek." - -The carriage, escorted by the two dragoon officers who rode ahead of -it, and by their handful of troopers behind, was now nearing that -great tent over which streamed in the light of the setting sun the -flag of England, and also passing through lines of English soldiers. -Past the Cuirassiers, or Fourth Horse, it went--Sylvia's hand to her -heart as she recognised that this was the regiment to which _he_ had -once belonged, from which he, wickedly, unjustly, had been cast out. -Past, too, the gallant Scots Regiment of White Horses, as well as -"Coy's Horse," or 2nd Irish Horse, the King's Carabineers, and many -others of the cavalry, as well as several infantry regiments, -including fourteen companies of the Grenadiers. And, at last, they -were outside Marlborough's tent: the moment to which both had looked -forward, from which they hoped so much, was at hand. - -"I will enter to my lord's staff," Captain Barringer said, "and state -your desires. Meanwhile, something of your names and condition I must -know. What shall I tell him, whom announce?" and his eyes fell on the -Comtesse, perhaps because she was the elder. Upon which she answered: - -"Tell him," she said, "that a Protestant Frenchwoman from Languedoc -seeks assistance from him on two matters--both grave, and one vital. A -Frenchwoman whose name is Radegonde, Comtesse de Valorme." - -The captain bowed, while repeating the words to himself as though to -impress them thoroughly in his mind; then he looked at Sylvia. - -"Tell him," she said in turn, "that an Englishwoman, one Sylvia -Thorne, is here to seek succour from him for the man she loves--the -man who, if God so wills it, is to be her husband. And that man is a -countryman to both my lord and her. Also he has been an English -soldier. But this you know." - -It was half an hour later that the captain came back, and, speaking in -a low voice, said that the Earl of Marlborough would receive the -ladies who desired to speak with him. After which he handed them out -of the carriage, and, taking them to the opening of the tent, passed -them through the sentries on either side. From there he confided them -to a man who had the appearance of being a body-servant, one who bade -them respectfully follow him. - -But as they left the captain he whispered in their ears: - -"Have no fear, no trepidation; and tell him all--all! You are about to -see the most brilliant soldier, the most courtly gentleman, in -Europe." - -A moment later the man had held a curtain aside and had retired after -letting it drop behind them again, and they were face to face with the -greatest captain of the age. - -He was standing in front of a brazier in which burned some logs, for -the evenings were growing colder now and the damp was over all, and as -the women's eyes fell on that handsome presence and noted the -wonderful serenity of the features, any trepidation they might have -felt vanished. - -Clad in his dark blue coat--he was Colonel of the Blues--with, beneath -it, the ribbon of the Garter across his breast, he stood facing the -curtain until they appeared, and then, advancing towards them, lifted -the hand of each to his lips, while murmuring some courteous phrase, -immediately after which he placed two rough chairs before them and -begged them to be seated. - -"Madame la Comtesse," he said now, and they noticed the refined, -courtly tones of a voice that, though soft and even, was a little -shrill. "I have heard your tale briefly from Captain Barringer. If -help can come from me it shall. Yet am I vastly concerned to know how -I can offer aid." - -"My lord," said Sylvia, lifting her eyes to his, while little knowing -how he had noticed her beauty in one swift glance, "it is said in -Liege that you will be soon there; and then--then--then the French -will be no longer in possession of that city." - -His lordship smiled slightly as she said this and seemed to muse an -instant, after which he said: - -"It may be so; but ere that can be, I must clear my way to Liege. -There are towns and fortresses upon the road. Venloo is one, and time -is necessary." - -"Time! Oh!" the girl almost gasped. "Time! And in that time they may -have tried Mr. Bracton and--ah! I cannot utter it!" - -"It may indeed be so," he murmured, seeing the look on Sylvia's face. -"I would not say a word to alarm you; but courts-martial, trials in -war time, are apt to be swift. And the condition of Mr. Bracton is -perilous; he has placed himself in a dangerous position." - -"My lord," the Comtesse said, "we have heard but lately that in your -hands is one, the Marquis de Cabrieres, who lies under sentence of -death for a similar offence against you and a town in your possession. -Yet he still lives. May it not be the same, may we not hope the same -respite, for Mr. Bracton?" - -As she spoke, not only she, but Sylvia too, saw that her words had had -some strange effect on the Earl. They observed a light come in his -eyes, a little more colour mount to his cheeks--evidences that those -words had produced in his mind some striking effect. That effect they -were soon to learn. - -He went to a coarse, wooden table, covered with papers--a table that -had, doubtless, been purchased with many others for a few gulden at -some town through which the army passed, and, taking from off it two -of those papers, said, as he held them in his hand: - -"Here is a letter to M. de Boufflers which I have caused to be -written--such things are usual enough between the conflicting -armies--suggesting an exchange of prisoners----" - -"Ah!" exclaimed Sylvia. "I understand." - -"Yet, see," Marlborough went on imperturbably, "I destroy it," and he -suited the action to the word. Then observing, as he observed -everything, the look of horror, of broken-hearted grief, on the faces -of the others at his action, he added, "Because Mr. Bracton's name is -not in it; because I was ignorant of him, though now I remember his -name and the circumstances of his removal from the Cuirassiers. Yet, I -beseech you, be easy in your minds. Another letter shall be written; -it shall contain his name." - -"God in heaven bless you!" Sylvia murmured. - -"This," his lordship went on, touching with his finger the second -paper, "is my warrant for the execution of the Marquis de -Cabrieres--as a spy; but that too shall be destroyed," and again he -suited the action to the word. "Each of those men has committed the -same offence--for an offence it is against the opposing forces. Only, -it is war time, and, as the offence is equal, so may the pardon be. If -it can be done, if Mr. Bracton has not yet paid the penalty, it may be -that the Marechal de Boufflers and I can adjust matters." - - -[Illustration: "Sylvia flung herself at Marlborough's feet."] - - -With a sob wrung from her heart by those last words as to Bevill -having possibly paid the penalty, Sylvia flung herself at -Marlborough's feet while uttering all that she felt at his -graciousness and mercy. But, as she did so, as still she held his hand -and called on heaven again and again to bless and prosper him, and -while he, gallant, chivalrous as ever and always, endeavoured to raise -her to her feet, he said: - -"Only, above all, hope not too much. Do not allow your hopes too full -a sway. England and France, Anne and Louis, De Boufflers and I are at -war to the death, and war is merciless. Further defeat may drive the -Marshal to desperation. Also, we know not what may be transpiring at -Liege. I would not rouse more fears in your heart than it already -holds. Heaven knows, I would not do so. Yet still I say again, 'Hope -not, expect not, too much.'" - -"I must hope," Sylvia moaned. "I must, I must. I have nought but hope -left. I must hope in God's mercy first, and--under Him--in you." - -It was well indeed that she should have hope to comfort her at this -time--well, too, that she did not know what was doing in Liege even as -she knelt at Marlborough's feet. - -For had she done so she must have deemed there was no longer any hope -to be expected on earth either for her lover or herself. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - -Some of the French troops had returned to Liege. For almost every day -now there came to the ears of the different commanders in the vicinity -the news that the Allies were sweeping south; that town after town and -fortress after fortress was falling, and that gradually, before the -serried ranks of steel and the discharge of the heavy guns that the -huge Flanders horses dragged over muddy roads and boggy swamps, the -"Barrier" army was being driven back. To which was added now the news -that Venloo was invested by Lord Cutts--he who had gained the -sobriquet of the "Salamander" from friends and foes alike, owing to -his contempt for the enemy's fire--and the Prince of Hanover, and like -enough to fall at once. - -Therefore many of the French forces were now back in the citadel and -Chartreuse at Liege, or lying out on the heights of St. Walburg; while -Tallard, who was afterwards to command the French and be defeated at -Blenheim, was now second in command in the vicinity under De -Boufflers. For the Duke of Burgundy had some time since returned to -Paris, where he received but a freezing welcome from his august -grandsire, and the Marechal de Boufflers became first in command and -Tallard second. - -These changes in both the command of the French army and in the -redistribution of the French forces, provided a sufficient number -of officers to form a Court of Inquiry on the prisoners in the -citadel--a court which, as Tallard had left orders before marching -towards the Rhine, was to be commenced at once. - -Of these prisoners there were now three, since another had been added -to Bevill and Francbois, all of whom were charged with separate -offences. The charge against those two has already been told; that -against the third had still to be promulgated, though it came under -the general one of treason, and was described in the quaint wording of -the time as "_Lese majeste_ against the King, his State, and friends." - -Of Francbois short work had been made by those assembled in the old -_salle d'armes_ in the citadel. The letters he had overlooked, and -which had been found by the Comtesse de Valorme and handed to De -Violaine, were sufficient to condemn any man in a time of peace, let -alone one of war; but further inquiries, subtly made in the city by -other such spies as Sparmann had been, showed that the traitor had -made considerable sums of money by obtaining early knowledge of the -French plans and future movements, and by selling them to the Dutch -agents who were instructed by the States General to obtain all -information of a similar nature. Francbois had consequently been -condemned to death by hanging, and that death only awaited the -signature of Tallard to be immediately effected. Meanwhile, he, proved -spy and traitor as he was, was not regarded as too base and ignoble to -be allowed to testify against one of the other prisoners--namely, the -Englishman, Bracton. - -Against the third prisoner, a Hollander named Hans Stuven, the charge -was that he had attempted to slay two of his own countrymen in Liege, -who were now in the service of the French King as couriers and -frequent bearers of despatches from Louis to his marshals in the -Netherlands; and that, when in drink at a tavern, he had been heard to -announce that when he came into contact with the newly-created -marshal, Montrevel, he would slay him as an apostate from the reformed -faith and a persecutor of the Protestants. For this man there could be -but one hope--that he should be found to be insane. - -To try these two the Court sat in the _salle d'armes_, lit now by the -morning sun, De Violaine, in his capacity of Governor, being -President. As representative of the King of France, he wore his hat -and also the _just-au-corps au brevet_, or undercoat of the _noblesse_ -and those holding high office; a garment of white satin on which was -stamped in gold the _fleur-de-lys_. Among the other officers who -formed the members of that court one, a mousquetaire, alone wore his -hat also, the plumed and laced hat of that aristocratic body. This -was the young Duc de Guise, who sat thus covered because there ran in -his veins the royal blood of an almost older race than the Bourbons, -and because, as he and his called the King--and all Kings of -France--cousin, it was his privilege to do so. - -In face of these officers Bevill Bracton stood in the midst of a file -of soldiers, outwardly calm and imperturbable, but inwardly wondering -what Sylvia was doing and where she was, while knowing that, no matter -where she might be, her thoughts were with him alone. But, although he -was well resigned to whatever fate might befall him--a resignation -that many nights of solemn meditation had alone been able to bring him -to--there was in his heart a sadness, a regret, that could not be -stifled. - -"We met but to love each other," he had whispered to himself a -thousand times during his incarceration in this fortress; "to love but -to be parted. And though the words could never be spoken, since I -scarce knew the treasure I had won ere we were torn asunder, in her -heart there must have sprung to life the same hopes, the same desires -that had dawned in mine. The hopes of happy years to come, to be -passed always side by side; together! The dreams of a calm and -peaceful end, also together. And now! Now, the thought of her sweet -face, her graciousness, her love, the only flower remaining in my soon -to be ended life; my memory all that can be left to brighten or to -darken her existence." - -For never since the night he was arrested had he dared to dream -that he would leave Liege alive. His attempted escape from the city -with Sylvia, his passing under the false guise of two different -Frenchmen--the necessity for which he had always loathed, while -understanding that in this way alone could he reach her--the testimony -that Francbois would surely give against him, and the imputed murder -of a man in the pay and service of France, must overwhelm and confound -him. - -Thinking still of the woman he had learnt to love so dearly, he -let his eyes roam over that gloomy, solemn hall and observe all that -it contained while heeding little. He saw the officers of his -country's immemorial foe conversing together ere they should begin to -question him. He saw, too, the ancient arms that hung all round the -walls--pikes, swords, maces, and halbards, musketoons and muskets; -also, he saw far down at the other end another man who was, -undoubtedly, like himself, a prisoner. A man guarded by more soldiers -and with his hands chained together; one whose face was bruised and -raw, as though, in his capture, he had been badly wounded; one who, -leaning forward with that face resting on his hands, and his eyes upon -the ground, presented an appearance of brutish indifference to his -surroundings as well as to his almost certain fate. - -"The witness who will be produced before you, and the prisoner's own -actions, will give you the matter," De Violaine said now, addressing -the other members of the court, "upon which you have to form a -conclusion. The witness is the traitor, Francbois, whom you condemned -yesterday. What he knows he must tell in spite of his condemnation, or -means will be used to make him do so," and he glanced towards a man -leaning behind one of the great stone columns that, at regular -distances, supported the heavily-traced and groined roof. For there -was still another man within that hall, one on whom Bevill's eyes had -not yet lighted--a man, old and grizzled, yet strong and burly and -roughly clad--a man who stood by a strange-looking instrument that lay -along the floor and was a complicated mass of rollers and cords and -pulleys--a thing that was, in truth, the rack. Near this there stood, -also, four or five great copper pots, each holding several gallons of -water, and having great ladles of the same metal in each. These things -stood here close to the rack and that dark, forbidding man because, as -all of that Court knew well, when the rack failed to elicit the truth -from prisoner or suspected witness, the _question a l'eau_--namely, -the pouring of quart after quart of water down the throats of the -wretched victims, never failed in its effect. - -"Let us hear the man," an officer who was in command of the Regiment -de Montemar said. "If he endeavours to lie or to deceive us the----" -and he glanced towards the executioner as he leant against the column. - -"Bring in the man, Francbois," De Violaine said now, addressing some -of the soldiers who were near Bevill, and a few moments later the -already condemned traitor stood before those who had judged him -yesterday. - -Whether it was the horror of that condemnation which now sat heavily -on his soul, or whether it was the fear of what might be the outcome -of any evidence he should soon give--he had glanced affrightedly at -the rack and the great water-pots and the grim attendant of both as he -was brought in--he presented now a pitiable aspect. His face was -colourless, or almost ashy grey, and resembled more the appearance of -a terrified Asiatic, or an Asiatic whose blood was mixed with that of -some white race, than the appearance of a European. His eyes had in -them the terrified look of the hare as it glances back, only to see -the hound that courses it upon its flank; his whole frame, in its -tremblings and flaccidity, bespoke the awful terror that possessed -him. - -"_Pasquedieu!_" the young Duc de Guise muttered, as his eyes glanced -from the shivering object to the tall, sturdy form and calm, -unruffled, though solemn, countenance of the man against whom the -other was to testify. "_Pasquedieu!_ that this one should have his -life in the hand of such as that." And, though those by his side did -not hear the words muttered beneath the Duke's slight moustache, it -may well be that their thoughts kept company with his. - -"Tell your tale again as you told it to me when you came here to -inform against this Englishman," De Violaine said now in an icy tone; -"and tell it truthfully, remembering that----" but he, too, paused in -his words, the sentence being finished by the one glance he cast -towards the column down the hall. - -Then, in a voice that trembled in unison with the tremors of his -frame, though it gained strength--or was it audacity?--as he proceeded -without interruption from any of those listeners seated before him, -Francbois told the same story he had told at first to the Governor, -Only, if he were to die, as die he now knew he must, he was resolved -that he would leave no loophole through which this other--this -accursed, contemptuous Englishman who stood by his side so calmly, as -though he, too, were a judge and not a prisoner--should escape and -live. - -He pictured him as a browbeating, turbulent Briton even in those -far-off days in Paris when both he and Bracton were schoolmates; he -told how he was ever filled with hatred of France and Frenchmen; and -how, even here in Liege, Bracton had boasted that he would outwit any -Frenchman in and around it, and slay all who attempted to thwart him. -And, next, he told how he and Sparmann, going to the Weiss Haus to -arrest this man, had been set upon in the dark by him; how Bracton had -stabbed Sparmann through the breast and disarmed him, Francbois, so -that he was unable to succour his companion. - -But now he was forced to stop in the unfolding of his narrative. - -Bracton, who until this moment had uttered no word but had contented -himself with standing calmly before his judges, spoke now. - - -[Illustration: "'Messiers--this story is false.'"] - - -"Messieurs," he said, very calmly, "this story is false. It may be -that in my attempt to save a woman I have learnt to love, a woman whom -I loved with my whole heart and soul even ere I went to the Weiss Haus -that night, I have put myself in the grasp of your military laws. But -be that so or not," and now his voice was more firm, even perhaps -stronger, "I will not be saddled with a false accusation and hold my -peace. Sparmann was already wounded to the death, as I know now, -though I knew it not when he passed me, touched me, in the dark and -then fled down the stairs from me, deeming me most probably the man -from whose hands a moment before he had received his death-wound. But -it was not from my hand he received it. I am no murderer, no midnight -assassin. I had fought once with Sparmann in England, and vanquished -him in fair fight. Messieurs, you know well enough that the man who -vanquishes another in the open does not murder him afterwards in the -dark. Had I found him in the Weiss Haus that night, I should have -seized on him, it may be I should have forced him to fight with me -again, but I should not have done that of which this traitor accuses -me." - -These words had made a good impression on those to whom they were -addressed--so good a one, indeed, that, had there been no other charge -against Bevill, he might possibly have gone free at that moment. -Unhappily, however, there did remain the other charges that stood so -black against him, and those charges required neither the assertion -nor the corroboration of Francbois. They proved themselves. - -But whatever impression his words may have made on those who were now -the arbiters of life and death to him, a far deeper impression--a -palpable one--had been produced on the man who sat with his head -buried in his hands close by that column against which the doomsman -leaned. - -At the first sound of Bevill's voice this man, this fanatic who -appeared to have vowed himself to the slaughter of renegades and -apostates, had lifted his bloodstained and bruised face from his -hands, and had stared amazed as though a spectre had suddenly appeared -before him; yet even this expression of open-eyed astonishment gave -way to a still deeper appearance of bewilderment as now Francbois, in -answer to Bevill's words, repeated again his assertions while asking -if he who now stood on the threshold of his grave had any reason to -lie? - -So deep an appearance, indeed, had that man's bewilderment assumed -that, at last, he appeared unable to support it further, and let his -face fall once more into its previous position. And in all that great -hall there was not one, or only one--the dreadful creature who stood -near Stuven--who had witnessed the man's astonishment and the lifting -of his face out of his hands. - -"You say," De Violaine said now to Francbois, "that you have no reason -to lie since your grave already awaits you. Yet death is but the last -resource, and even that impending death shall not shield falsehood. If -you have lied to us----" - -But he paused, astonished by what he now not only saw but also heard. - -For at this moment the prisoner Stuven had sprung to his feet and was -gesticulating wildly, even as he struggled in the hands of the men who -guarded him--gesticulating wildly as he cried: - -"He lies. He does lie! 'Twas I who slew Sparmann that night--Sparmann, -the Hollander, who sold himself to your country. I--I--alone did -it--but he, this false witness, was there too. Not to slay Sparmann, -but that man before you. I lost my hat there in the struggle with him -whom I slew; it may be in that deserted house now. But no matter -whether it be or not, I demand that you listen to me. I, at least, -will speak the truth, since I neither heed nor fear what my fate may -be." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -Half an hour later Stuven's tale had been told; the Court knew that, -no matter what else might weigh heavily against the Englishman, at -least the murder of the Dutch spy in the pay of the French did not do -so. - -At once, after startling all in the _salle d'armes_ by his frenzied -outcry, Stuven had been bidden to narrate all the incidents of the -night in question, while warned that it would be well to speak the -absolute truth, since, though nothing could save him from his fate, -that might at least save him from torture, from those awful -instruments which lay upon the stone floor of the great hall. - -But the warning had been received by the man with such scorn and -contemptuous utterance that all present recognised that it might well -have remained unuttered. - -"The truth! My fate!" Stuven had cried from the spot to which he had -now been dragged by the soldiers, a spot immediately facing his judges -and near to Bevill. "Why should I lie? You have enough against this -man already," glancing at Bevill, "to hang him; while, for that thing -there," with a second glance at Francbois, "who would lie to save him? -And, for my fate--bah! I regret it only that it will prevent me from -slaying more renegades whom you and your country buy with your -accursed gold." - -"Tell what you know," De Violaine said sternly, "and make no -reflections on us who hold you in our hands. We can do worse than slay -you, should you merit it. Proceed." - -Yet as the gallant Frenchman spoke, the loyalist who, in spite of his -ruler's own evil-doing and tyranny, served that ruler as he had sworn -to do long ere Louis had become the bitter oppressor of those of his -own faith, knew that, in his heart, this fellow's rude, stern hatred -of traitors and renegades, and those who employed them, was not -amazing. Stuven might be, might have become almost, a demoniac in his -patriotism and loyalty to the land that bare him, but at least he was -noble in comparison with such as Francbois and, perhaps, with such as -the dead traitor, Sparmann. - -But now Stuven was speaking, partly in his Walloon _patois_, partly in -some sort of French he had acquired--Heaven knew the opportunities had -not been wanting during the last cycles of oppression and invasion of -the Netherlands by France!--he was telling what he knew, what he had -done in Holland's cause. - -"It was," Stuven said now, his raw, bruised face bent forward towards -the members of the Court, his eyes gleaming red as he spoke, his -raucous voice made almost impressive by the intensity of his passion, -"at St. Trond I first attempted to slay the spy--_ach!_" and he spat -on the ground--"the traitor. At St. Trond where I learned who and what -he was, by overhearing this man, this Englishman, tell another. -And--and--I swore to kill him then--or later; some day, for sure. That -night I failed, even though waiting for him, having him in my hand. I -struck not deep enough, and, ere I could strike again, the patrol came -by. I missed his heart by an inch or so; I--I had done no more than -wound him in the shoulder. No matter, I told myself; I would not fail -next time. - -"Some of the patrol carried him to the Lutheran Spital; some chased -me; one came so near that, with his pike, he tore my face, as your men -have torn it again in capturing me," and Stuven laughed horribly. "But -I knew the streets and alleys better than they--_I_ was no stranger, -no invader, so I escaped them. - -"Then for three weeks I waited. I worked no more; I watched only. None -came out of the Spital, none went in, but I saw them. I begged at the -gate--it was a good vantage place--I tried to get into the Spital to -wait on the sick, to help bury, carry out the dead. Had I not failed -in my desire I need not have waited so long." - -At this the young Duc de Guise muttered to his neighbour, "This fellow -should have lived in earlier days. For one's rival now--an enemy--our -dearest foe--he would have been the man." - -"Nay," that neighbour, an older, grey-headed officer, muttered back, -"he would have been useless. His fire was for his country's enemy, for -his own. As a hired bravado, a paid assassin, he would have lacked the -necessary spark. A handful of crowns would have awakened nothing in -him." - -"He came out at last," Stuven went on, even as those two whispered -together, "three weeks later. He found his horse at the inn where he -had left it; he rode slowly, a wounded man--wounded by me--to Liege. -But he never rode from me, out of my sight. We entered the gates close -together; he found a lodging, I slept in the street outside it. -Then--then--after I had tracked him for some days I knew that he was -tracking another. And at last I knew it was this man here," and again -Stuven's eyes were turned on Bevill. "If I could have warned you," he -said now to the latter, "I would have done so, but I could not leave -him and I never saw you except when he drew near to you. - -"So it went on. Had he had time, I think he would have come to you and -denounced him," and now the man looked at De Violaine, "but he had -not. He rose early, went to his bed late; and he was wary. In dark -streets at night he had his sword drawn beneath his cloak; once, too, -he noticed me, and from that time he feared for his own life. I think -he understood that I was the man who fell on him at St. Trond. - -"But now the night was come, the night of the storm. We--it was always -_we_--he intent on following this man, and I on following him--were on -our road to that great white house. Since dark I had been near the -Gouden Leeuw, and I saw this Englishman come forth, mount his horse -and ride to the house. I saw him enter a postern gate, opening it with -a key; it took him some time to help his horse through it. Then the -gate was shut again. - -"A few moments later Sparmann went round to the wall on the other -side, and, finding another postern gate in that, took from his pocket -a key and entered; but he did not shut the gate, desiring doubtless to -leave the way clear to escape quickly if he needed to. Then I knew he -had been there before, or had been well directed how to gain entrance. -Also, I remembered that more than once I had seen him with a man who -on one occasion handed him something. I thought then that it was -money; now, on this night, I understood that it was the key that he -was using. And the man was _this_----" Stuven added, his eyes on -Francbois, the contempt of his voice as biting, as burning as the bite -of vitriol on live flesh; the very gesture of his hand, as he -indicated the other, blighting, withering, in its disdainful scorn. - -And Francbois, trembling before his late judges and present warders, -and white, too, as the dead within their shrouds, could only mutter -"False, false, false--all false!" - -"Since Sparmann had left the door open behind him, my way was clear," -Stuven went on, ignoring Francbois' feeble moan. "Five minutes later I -knew that he was creeping slowly up the back stairs, and I, my knife -in hand, was near him. The storm was at its height; now and again the -great hall was lit by the lightning, so, too, was the whole house; it -penetrated even to where he was, where I was, too. And now I knew -that he feared something. The lightning showed me his backward -glance, the glare of fear in his eyes, the look of the rat hunted -through the streets by dogs. I guessed that he knew there was -someone--something--near him that threatened danger. It may be that he -thought it was this Englishman; or, also, he may have feared that it -was I, the man who had failed once, but would never fail again." - -"It will be bad," the Duc de Guise muttered, brushing his jewelled -fingers across his forehead, "if all Louis' enemies are like this, all -who are opposed to us!" - -And again the old grey-haired soldier answered him, saying, "Be at -peace, monseigneur. The man he tracked was his country's betrayer; he -is not the enemy of Louis or of us." - -"Sparmann," Stuven continued, "had reached a room at the end of the -corridor; I was behind its open door, observing him through the chink -beneath its hinges. And again the lightning played, and I saw that he -was standing at the open window regarding something outside the -balcony of that window. It was the head of a ladder that rose above -the ledge some foot or more. And I heard him whisper to himself 'Can -it be Bracton has come this way; I do fear he lurks near. I--I--ah! he -will slay me.' While saying this he turned and made for the door to -flee the room. As he so left, I, from my place behind that door, drove -my knife deep into his breast, even as I whispered in his ear -'Traitor; renegade, foul, apostate!' and slashed at him again, missing -him, but striking, I think, his arm or hand. Then, as he staggered -down a great balcony round the hall, I knew that it was time for me to -go, and that the ladder outside was my road. - -"The wind of the storm had closed the door noisily, heavily, as he -passed out; the noise reverberated through the empty house; opening -the door now, I rushed to the window. As I did so I saw the ladder -head slowly sliding to one side, and I knew that it was being removed -from its position against the balcony. And I leant over the ledge to -see who was this third man who had been in the room, believing I -should see this Englishman. But it was not he, but that other one, -that traitor to you and your country," and again Stuven's finger -pointed with scorn at Francbois. "And he saw me, but, in his turn, -since the night was black and dark, thought I was the Englishman. -Whereon he hissed, addressing me by some name I did not comprehend, -'So, so! English spy, English brigand, you add midnight murder to -other things, here in the house of the woman you and I both love, the -woman who--malediction on her!--loves you. I have you now--you! -you!--the murderer of those in the service of France. You will never -leave Liege alive!" - -As Stuven reached this portion of his narrative, which was in absolute -fact the end of it, since none cared to hear, or he to tell, of how he -had left the house on the other side of it, losing his hat in the -hurry of his flight, there came to his ears the sound of a thud, a -heavy fall. Looking round, as did also Bevill, while the members of -the Court of Inquiry and the soldiers could see what had happened, he -perceived that Francbois had fallen in a swoon to the floor. What he -had heard from this man's lips was, in truth, sufficient to cause him -to swoon, since it was now proved that one of his principal charges -against Bracton was false; though, had he known that against his enemy -there still remained a graver charge than all--namely, of being in -correspondence with one of the most bitter enemies of France--his -agony of mind might not have been so great. For though Francbois could -not hope that there remained the thousandth portion of a chance for -his own life, the rendering up of that life might have been less -bitter had he been certain that, with his existence, his enemy's would -likewise be forfeited. Also, the sweetness of vengeance was lost to -Francbois if, in death, that enemy should fail to recognise that it -was to him he owed it. - -Had the wretch but retained his faculties some moments longer, or, -instead of being borne out of the _salle d'armes_ by the men in whose -custody he was, had he been allowed to lie until he regained his -senses--as he shortly did when removed--some of the wild delirium of -fulfilled revenge would have been his. - -Now that Stuven had told his story, of the truth of which no person -present had entertained a doubt, De Violaine addressed Bevill, saying: - -"That you are innocent of the murder of that wretched man who was in -the service of France, of the King," and he and the Duke touched their -hats while the others bowed as he mentioned their august ruler, "the -Court allows. But of the other charges it is not easy to acquit you. -You entered a city invested by us under false names, bearing false -papers; you endeavoured to leave the city, while also endeavouring to -remove from it a woman who by our orders--orders common in war--was -not to quit it. Also a letter has been found on you from your -countryman, Lord Peterborough, in which he tells you he hopes soon to -take part in this war against us, and bids you, at the same time, -observe carefully our strength and the disposition of our forces, and -to communicate with him thereupon. You have been a soldier in your own -country's service, you have fought against France in the time of your -late King, therefore you know the laws of war. You know, too, what -action the present commander of the English forces would take if he -discovered a Frenchman in the position in which you have placed -yourself." - -As De Violaine ceased his eyes were not removed from Bevill's face, -wherefore the latter, taking this as an intimation that if he desired -to speak this was the time, said: - -"To what you say, Monsieur le Gouverneur, my answer must be brief, -since, in truth, I have but little answer to make. Yet I crave hearing -for my words. I am one who was cast out of his country's service -because he avenged the insults uttered against it by that dead spy, -Sparmann. When once more your country and mine were at war, I sought -fresh service in the field, yet, being but a broken man, it needed to -obtain that employment that I should bring myself before the eyes of -those who might bestow it on me. A chance arose; I deemed it -Heaven-sent. The woman whom now I love with my whole heart and soul, -whose image is enshrined in my heart, and will be ever there till my -last hour is told, was here. I thought I saw the chance, and snatched -at it as one that might make me a soldier again. You, to whom I speak, -are all soldiers; had your case been mine, had the chance come to you -to reinstate yourselves, would you have refused to do so? Enough of -this. - -"And the rest is soon answered. I am no spy. Had I escaped from here -with her whom I love, no word of your plans and dispositions should -have ever passed, not even though Peterborough had bade me speak and -divulge all; though he had told me that on my utterance all my future -hopes rested. As for the passports, listen, messieurs, I beg. I -loathed landing under an assumed name on the soil acquired by you; had -it been possible, I would have come in plume and corselet, as once I -came against you when an English cuirassier. But that was not -possible, while as for the second papers--ah, well! there was no other -way. That unhappy man now dead would have avenged my honourable defeat -of him--one given face to face, by man to man--by himself denouncing -me behind my back in his new shape of spy, of informer; he who had -been our ally, the countryman of our King! In Antwerp, in St. Trond, -he would have done so; also in Liege, had not this man whom you have -heard slain him. Messieurs, there is no more. I have been what you are -all. I have faced death before; it will not fright me now, much though -I desire to live." And beneath his breath Bevill added, "For her." - -He ceased, and, in ceasing, knew that in his few, quietly spoken words -he had better pleaded his cause than if he had uttered one word for -mercy. For though the eyes of all his judges had never left his face, -they had been grave, but not hostile. He knew--he felt--that, had -there existed no absolute code by which they were forced to condemn -him for that which he had done, there would be no condemnation. But -still there was the code, as he had known from the moment when -Peterborough had first opened to him the matter of his quest for -Sylvia; from the moment he set out upon his enterprise. - -The heads of the members of the Court were close together now; the -registrar was reading a paper to them he had written; a moment later -the paper and a pen were handed to the Duc de Guise, who, although the -highest in position, was the lowest in military rank, and was -therefore to sign first. - -For a moment this young man of superb lineage, though a lineage on -which there rested, as it had rested for more than a century, so dark -and awful a blot, sat gazing at the paper before him while biting the -feather of the pen; then he said, or asked: - -"The prisoner is a Protestant?" - -"He is," De Violaine answered, gazing astonished at him. - -"I will not sign," the Duke said, throwing down the pen. - -"Monseigneur!" - - -[Illustration: "'I will not sign,' the Duke said, throwing down the -pen"--_p_. 1034.] - - -"No, I will not sign. We," and the Duke's hand caught the lace at his -breast in its grasp, as though its owner were stirred by some internal -agitation, "we--ah!--we of our line have testified in the past all -that we have felt towards those of his faith. I will not have it said -that another Guise should sign the finding of this Court against a man -whom he respects, no matter how much that man has erred, because he is -a Protestant." - -"I, too, respect him," De Violaine said, even as he laid his hand, -unseen by the others, upon the young Duke's and pressed it. "But I -myself am a Protestant, and also the President of this inquiry. Yet I -shall sign. Neither will I have it said that, being of the prisoner's -faith, I used that bond between us to shield him from the punishment -he has brought on his own head." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - -To die. That was the sentence, awaiting only confirmation from Tallard -to be at once carried into effect. To die--though, because he had once -been that which his judges were now, because the "one touch of nature" -had made these French soldiers and that English soldier kin; because, -too, his quiet, manly bearing, his restraint from all plea for mercy, -had touched the hearts of those who sentenced him--not by the rope, -but by the hands of soldiers. Not to be hanged, as Francbois and -Stuven were to be, but to be shot as he stood upright before a platoon -of soldiers; his eyes unbandaged, so that he might look them and the -death they dealt him as straight in the face as he had often before -looked the enemy and death. - -Also, it may be, the hearts of those judges had been softened to this -extent by the avowal of his love for the stately, beautiful woman whom -some of them--De Guise, De Violaine, D'Aubignay--had seen; whom these, -at least, had heard cry "I love him, I love him, I love him!" -Remembering that cry of Sylvia's, remembering how in that moment, so -fraught with evil to both their destinies, the girl had cast aside all -sense of mock diffidence, and how nobly she had avowed her love while -recognising that, in doing so, no reproach of want of reserve could -come anigh her, De Violaine, as he signed the finding of the Court -over which he had presided, muttered to himself: - -"To have heard Radegonde thus proclaim her love for me would have -caused this sentence to fall harmless. Harmless! Nay, rather, -welcome." - -While, as for De Guise, duke and peer of France though he might be, -with, in his veins, the old illustrious blood of Lorraine and -Burgundy--what would he not have given to hear one woman utter that -cry on his behalf from the depths of her heart? He who might, -doubtless, obtain such avowals from many a nobly born woman hovering -round the garish, bizarre Court of the great King, yet would, in doing -so, scarce be able to bring himself to believe in the truth of even -one of them. - -Some days had passed since Bevill had heard his doom pronounced by De -Violaine in a voice full of emotion; days in which he had stood, -sometimes for hours together, at the window of the great cell, which -was in truth a room, gazing across the town. Across the town, since -the citadel was built on the brow of a hill that overhung it, to -where, perhaps, he dreamt that, even at the last moment, succour might -be expected to come. For though he did not know that the Comtesse de -Valorme and Sylvia had by now contrived to escape out of Liege, he -knew that this was the direction in which Marlborough must be; that, -if there was any hope to be looked for, it was thence it must arrive. -Yet he knew, too, that, if it came, also must it come swiftly. - -"De Violaine said," he had told himself a hundred times, "that the -finding of the Court would be sent at once to the Marshal Tallard for -his approval. Ah, well! the time will not be long. With Marlborough as -near as he must be by now, Tallard cannot be far away. Whispers filter -even through these prison walls; the soldiers amongst whom I am -allowed to walk below, and to get the air, are gloomy and depressed. -Also, I have caught ere now the name of Venloo on their lips. If -Venloo has fallen, then Liege will be the next. It will be its turn. -But mine!" Bevill would add, with almost the shadow of a smile upon -his face, "will my turn come first?" - -"And she, my sweet, my love," he would continue. "What of her? Where -is she, what is she doing? Yet why ask, why ponder? She is dreaming, -musing, thinking of me now, I know; pitying my fate--it may be -endeavouring in some way to avert it. Ah! Sylvia, Sylvia, if ere I go -from out this world we might stand face to face again; if I might look -once more into those fond, pure eyes, and read therein the love that I -must part with, leave behind, death would not seem so bitter and -parting be lighter sorrow than I deem it now." - -Yet even as he spoke he chided himself for his consideration of -himself alone; for thinking only of the love that he, going out into -the darkness, must leave behind, not of the one left behind in a -deeper, because a living, darkness. - -As thus he mused one morning by the spot at the window at which he -always stood while these, or similar, reflections occupied his mind, -he heard the great bunch of keys in the possession of one of the -soldier-gaolers rattling outside, and a moment later heard his cell -being unlocked. Knowing that this was not the time for the man to -visit him, either to bring food or to take him forth to walk in the -courtyard of the citadel, he wondered who might be coming, and, with a -leap at his heart, a quick bound of hope, wondered also if it were she -who might have obtained admission to him. - -A moment later De Violaine entered the room, and again Bevill's heart -leapt within him, since he could suppose that this visit must bode but -one thing, the announcement of the hour fixed for his execution. -Wherefore he murmured to himself: - -"Be brave. Fear naught. Remember 'tis but a dozen bullets. What are -they to one who has faced thousands?" - -If, however, the Governor of the citadel had come with any such -intention as that which Bevill supposed, he at least did not declare -it at once. Instead, he asked his prisoner if, so far as might be, he -had been well attended and treated well. - -"I have no complaint to urge," Bevill replied, "even if one placed as -I am might venture to do so." Then, bracing himself to that which was -nearest to, was never out of, his heart, he said: "Yet, monsieur, I -may, perhaps, ask of you a question I might scarce put to those who -have me in their charge." Then, seeing that De Violaine showed no -signs of dissent, he continued: "I would fain know how it is with -her--the woman whose affianced husband I am, and shall be while life -remains. Also, if all is well with that noble lady the Comtesse de -Valorme." - -"I have seen neither of them since your appearance before the Court of -Inquiry." - -"Yet you were the friend of one of them at least--of Madame la -Comtesse." - -"Yes, of Madame la Comtesse--once." - -"If--if--" Bevill said, while observing the hesitation in the other's -words, the pause before that last word "once"--"if my doom is not -close at hand, if still there remains even one day, some few hours, to -me of life in this world, I would fain crave a boon at your hands, -make one request. Ah! if it might be granted it would make my parting -with life easier; it may be she would better be able to bear our -eternal separation." - -"What is it you desire?" De Violaine asked in a low voice, his eyes -fixed on the other. - -"To see her once again. To bid her one last farewell, to hold her in -my arms for the first and last time. You know, you must know, that our -love grew from out this attempt for which I am now to suffer; that, -even as the knowledge came to both our hearts that the love was there, -so, too, the parting, the end was at hand. Ah! if to you the love for -a woman has ever come, if it has ever so fortuned that you should love -and lose----" - -"It is impossible!" De Violaine interrupted, his voice at war with his -features. For, though there seemed to be a harshness in the former, -there were tears in the latter. And Bevill, hearing the harshness even -as he saw the tears, was amazed--staggered, too, as he showed while -repeating the word "Impossible." - -"Ay. They are not here. Not in Liege. They have left--evaded--the -city." - -"Left! Gone!" - -"Yes. Doubtless you of all others best know whither." - -"I know nothing." - -"You knew where they would go when you sought to accompany them. You -can have little doubt where they are gone without you." - -To say now that he did not know, that he could not conceive which way -those two women had for certain directed their steps would, Bevill -recognised, be but to add one more equivocation, one more evasion of -the absolute truth, to those he had been obliged to perpetrate in his -desire to escape with Sylvia from Liege. But now--and if he could -welcome the perilous position in which he stood he was almost brought -to do so by De Violaine's last utterance--equivocations, evasions, -were no longer necessary. Henceforth, since he had failed and Sylvia -had escaped from Liege, and also was undoubtedly either with the -English or some portion of the Allies, he need never again utter one -word that was not absolutely a true one. He had failed in that which -he had undertaken, yet, he thanked God, that failure mattered not. Out -of it had at least come the escape of her he loved. - -He stood, therefore, before De Violaine neither asserting nor denying -the last words of the other; while that other, observing the calm -frankness of his manner, thought that, should there be any future -before this man, should he and the woman he loved ever come by any -chance together, how proud, how happy in her possession of him, should -that woman be. - -A moment later he said, perhaps as though desirous of answering his -own suggestion, perhaps of showing his prisoner that he, too, was -under no doubt of where Sylvia and her friend--the one a woman the -prisoner loved, the other the woman he loved--were. - -"Doubtless," he said, "they are not very far. Venloo has fallen," and -De Violaine sighed as he told of one more defeat to his country. - -"To Marlborough!" - -"To the Allies at least. Marlborough draws near. Yet Liege may not -fall so easy a prey to him as other of these towns and cities have -done. If Tallard returns from the Rhine, if Boufflers but succours -us--ah! England cannot win for ever!" - -"The time is almost past," Bevill said now, and even as his words fell -from him the noble heart of De Violaine, the heart of the man who held -this other in his grasp, was full of pity and compassion; "the time is -almost past when it matters for me whether Marlborough or Tallard -reaches Liege first, whether England or France wins at last. My day is -almost done. But to go leaving her behind, unmarried yet widowed, -since no other man will ever win the love she gave to me; to leave her -to a long life cheerless and blank! Ah! ah!" he murmured, breaking -off, "I dare not, must not think of that," while, his manly stoicism -giving way, he turned his back on the other so that he should not see -his face, and moved towards the deep embrasure of the window. - -As he did so De Violaine, observing Bevill's emotion, his poignant -grief, stood for a moment looking at him. Then, some feeling stronger -than a soldier's duty, a soldier's necessary harshness towards a -prisoner, an enemy, one taken as Bevill had been taken, under a false -name and bearing false papers, stirred him deeply. They were no -longer, he felt, captor and captive, French soldier or English, but -man and man. Advancing towards the embrasure, yet hesitating ere he -did so, De Violaine placed his hand on Bevill's sleeve. - -"Be cheered," he said, impelled to do that which his humanity, in -contradistinction to his duty, prompted him towards. "Be cheered. -Until either De Boufflers or Tallard comes, the warrant for -your--your--for the end--cannot be made. The finding of the Court -cannot be carried out. And there is another chance, a hope for you. At -Nimeguen the English hold a prisoner of our side who is to suffer for -doing that which you have done." - -"Ah! if they should spare him." - -"If Marlborough has not signed his warrant, and almost I doubt it, -seeing that day by day he places a greater distance between him and -that city, there is a possibility of an exchange; while until Tallard -returns here he cannot sign. No messenger from us can reach him now, -since, Heaven help us! an iron ring is round us. Also, it may be, -Tallard cannot fight his way here. Even though the worst befalls you, -your fate is not yet." - -"But still prolonged, still in the balance! Ah! if she were here," -Bevill said again. - -"She is not. She and Ra--Madame de Valorme--have taken their own -way--have placed leagues between them and this place. If she were -here, she should see you." - -After which, as though feeling that he had said more than became the -Governor of this fortress, and of others in the city, who held in his -hands a prisoner belonging to the enemy, De Violaine went towards the -door. Arrived at it, however, he paused, and looked back while saying: - -"Whatever faults you have committed against France, there was not one -of those who judged you a week ago who did not sympathise with, nay -pity, you. You heard the noble reason De Guise gave for not signing; -the reason I gave for signing. And of the others--some of them worn -veterans who have crossed swords with those of England scores of -times--all acquitted you in their hearts, even while, in duty, -condemning you. Tallard will be no harder than they, provided ever -that Marlborough has himself been merciful to De Cabrieres, the -prisoner whose fault is as yours." - -"All sympathised with, all pitied me," Bevill said to himself when De -Violaine was gone. "Even though they condemned me as they did so. Ah! -well, I must bear my lot whate'er befall. I knew the chances and faced -them ere I left England; they have gone against me--let me face that, -too." - -"Yet," he continued to muse, "'twas strange that the one from whom the -Comtesse de Valorme feared the worst might come--De Guise--should have -been the only one who refused to sign my condemnation." - -But now, as ever, his thoughts wandered from any fate, good or bad, -that hovered over him to what she, his love, was doing, to where she -might be. And in those thoughts there was always one surety strong and -triumphant over all the rest. The thought, the certainty, that his -image was never absent from her heart, the confidence that, since she -had escaped out of Liege, the escape had only been made with a view to -endeavouring to obtain succour for him. - -Though whether that endeavour, wild, almost hopeless as it must be, -could meet with success was more than he dared dream of. - -"I am in God's hand," he murmured. "In God alone I must put my trust." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - -October had come by now, Marlborough's camp was at Sutendal, and the -army was but waiting to receive the latest information as to the -disposal of the French round Liege to throw their pontoons across -the river Jaar, and, after crossing, to march in two columns on that -city. Venloo was taken, so, too, were Ruremond and Stevenswaert; the -Earl, to use his own words, had now but one enemy between him and -Liege--the weather. - -Meanwhile, there had passed between Marlborough and Le Marechal de -Boufflers some of those courteous epistles which, at that time, it was -customary for the principal commanders of hostile forces to indite to -each other. Cartels, as they were then termed, in which the one would -inform the other that he had so many prisoners in his hands whom he -desired to exchange for some of his own men who might happen to be in -the hands of his adversary, and that he would be obliged by the -consent of the other being given. In one of the most recent of these, -Marlborough had stated briefly the case of Bevill Bracton, while -making comparisons between it and that of the Marquis de Cabrieres, -and had informed the French commander that he was willing to exchange -the latter gentleman against his own countryman, now a prisoner in -Liege. - -To this there had been returned an answer by De Boufflers in which he -stated that, with regard to the ordinary prisoners in his and -Marlborough's hands, the exchange should be willingly made, but that a -regards the Englishman now a prisoner at Liege it was not in his power -to do anything. The decision, he continued, rested with M. Tallard, -who was at the moment near Bonn, although De Boufflers added that, if -it were possible for him to communicate with Liege, he, as supreme -commander of the French army of the Netherlands, would send orders -that, presuming the English prisoner had not been already found guilty -and executed, the execution should be delayed. - -"This is, perhaps, no very satisfying news," the Earl of Marlborough -said, when, after having received this letter from his adversary, he -proceeded to a tent near his own pavilion in which the Comtesse de -Valorme and Sylvia were installed. Nor were they the only women -present in this camp, since, wherever an army definitely halted for -any length of time, there always appeared on the scene the wives and -daughters of the local peasantry intent on selling any provisions and -drink they might chance to be possessed of. Also, they were always -willing to hire out their services in washing and mending, attending -to the sick and wounded, and, sometimes, if they were of the worst -species, of robbing the latter. But in the case of Sylvia and the -Comtesse, an honest, respectable creature had been found at Asch who -acted as general maid to both, and, when the camp was removed to -Sutendal some few miles off, was willing to accompany them in that -capacity. - -"Yet, my lord," Sylvia said, in answer to the Earl's remark, "at least -it is something. Except for those last awful words, 'if the prisoner -has not yet been found guilty and executed,' there is much hope in the -letter. Le Marechal de Boufflers says if he could communicate with -Liege he would send orders for delay." - -"That, however," the Earl replied, "it is impossible for him to do. We -are between him and Liege, and another portion of our forces is -between M. Tallard and Liege. In no way can that letter reach the -Governor." - -"Therefore," said the Comtesse, "neither can the warrant, which your -Lordship says would undoubtedly have to be signed by one of these two -generals, reach him either. If one of the enemy, bearing that which -will save Bevill Bracton, cannot reach M. de Violaine, how is it -possible for the warrant to reach M. Tallard, and how be returned?" - -"That is indeed true," Marlborough said reflectively. "While, for our -army, we cannot invest Liege yet. We must wait for our reinforcements. -And even at the last moment, when the men of the garrison find -themselves attacked by us, they might proceed to the extreme. Or--" but -he paused. He would not repeat again that which must at least be as -obvious to those women as to him, that which had been obvious to the -Marechal de Boufflers--the possibility of Bevill having been already -found guilty and executed. - -A moment later, however, the Earl added. - -"'Tis pity--a thousand pities--we cannot yet advance on Liege or -communicate with the Governor--reach his ear somehow. For this reply -from De Boufflers to me would be sufficient. With that letter from the -Generalissimo of the French army in his hand, not even the signed -warrant of Tallard could have effect." - -"You cannot reach him, you cannot communicate with him, my lord!" -Sylvia exclaimed, her whole body quivering with excitement as she -spoke, her eyes glistening like stars. "You cannot reach him!" - -"It is impossible. If I send forward a regiment they will be fallen -upon, annihilated by some out of the thirty thousand troops that are -near here; even an English regiment cannot fight half the army of -France and Spain. Though," he added, "it is our curse to be always too -self-vaunting and to believe we can perform superhuman feats." - -"They will not annihilate me," Sylvia said. "What an English regiment -cannot do an English woman hastening to save her lover can." - -"You, Mistress Thorne! You!" Marlborough exclaimed, taken almost -aback, if one so calm as he could by any means be startled. "You!" - -"Yes, I. I reached here in safety. I can return." - -"But you will be stopped; your reasons will be demanded. And--you may -not fall into the hands of French officers--of gentlemen. Their -patrols, pickets, outposts, are commanded by sergeants and corporals. -They are not always even French but, instead, Spanish, and mercenaries -at that. Also they may not be able to read the Marechal's letter, to -understand----" - -"They will understand what I tell them," Sylvia exclaimed, carried -away by the excitement of her thoughts and desires. "That I, an -Englishwoman, one who, after escaping out of Liege when her lover was -to be tried for his life as a spy, was forced--by her love--to return -to his side. And," she continued, "they, those French and Spanish who -hate us English so dearly, will not thwart but rather assist me to -re-enter the jaws of the trap. Only they will not know that in my -possession will be that letter of their supreme commander; one that -will o'erweigh even the orders of M. Tallard, should he have sent -them. If," she added, almost hysterically, as her memory reverted to -those written words of the French marshal, "it is not too late. If it -is not--ah! Heaven grant it may not be." - - -[Illustration: "Sylvia threw herself weeping into the arms of the -Comtesse."--_p_. 1176.] - - -And Sylvia threw herself weeping into the arms of the Comtesse. - -For a moment--only a moment--Marlborough's eyes rested on her even as, -it may be, he thought that here was a woman whose love and heroism, -whose loyalty to the man who had gained her heart, might match with -the love and loyalty of the woman who was his own wife--the woman who, -hated by many for her imperious nature and haughty spirit, was the -most fond, proud wife whom any husband's arms had ever enfolded. The -woman who, even while she teased and vexed him with her overbearing -temper and violent disposition, loved him as deeply and fondly as the -day when first they became lovers. - -A moment later and when now Sylvia stood once more upright before him, -he, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, said: - -"It may not be that he shall perish. Mr. Bracton must live even to -claim you for his bride. Therefore, your desire to return to Liege -with the letter--it is a shrewd one, worthy of a woman's wit!--shall -not be gainsaid. While, for the rest, you shall be accompanied some -part of the way, 'Tis but a day's ride. Also," and now his voice sank -a little lower so that the shrillness that was so often apparent in it -was no longer perceptible, "if they permit that you should see him, -your affianced husband----" - -"Ah!" Sylvia said. "If--if I should see him! If--no! no!" she -almost moaned. "I cannot say the words." But recovering herself a -moment later, forcing herself to be valiant, she continued, "If -he--is--still--alive it may be we shall become fellow prisoners. Once -M. de Violaine has me in his keeping again he will give me no further -chance of escape." - -"Nor me," the Comtesse said. "In his stern sense of honour he will -deem me a traitor. Though I am none to France but only to the King and -'her'--to the woman he has made his wife." For it was as "her" and -"she" that all France spoke of the "dark and fatal woman," De -Maintenon--all France, no matter of what faith, while at the same time -refusing to accord her the title of Queen or the right to bear that -title. De Maintenon who, born a Protestant, had now been for years the -most cruel and vindictive oppressor of all Protestants. - -"If it may be so," Marlborough continued; "say to him, I beg, that -from the moment we meet again he shall become once more a soldier of -the Queen. Even though he has not accomplished that which he set out -to do, the attempt was gallant, was well worthy of reward." - -"Heaven above bless you," Sylvia said, and now she held out her hand -to Marlborough, while, as he took it and as, for a moment, his eyes -scanned all the troubled beauty of her face, she added: "Henceforth, -no matter what befall, in the prayers of a humble subject of that -Queen her greatest subject shall be remembered. Farewell, my lord. I -thank you from my heart." - -"Not farewell. We shall meet again at Liege. We and one other--your -future husband. I pray it may be so. Such noble bravery as yours -cannot surely go unrewarded." - -And now, ere departing, he turned from Sylvia to the Comtesse de -Valorme, his manner to her equally full of the chivalrous courtesy -which never failed him. - -"Madame," he said, "ere you, too, depart with your friend, believe -that, as I have already said, England is preparing to make the cause -of those in the South of France hers. Already there are thousands of -French Protestants who have found succour and shelter in our land; the -Queen's intentions towards all of the Protestant religion cannot be -doubted. The matter is already broached. The Council is deliberating -on sending a fleet to the Mediterranean to succour those of your faith -and ours. Rest assured, madame, nothing will be forgotten that can aid -them." - -As the Earl of Marlborough spoke, doubtless through the information he -was regularly supplied with from England, so things occurred. Sir -Cloudesley Shovel, the English admiral, did send the _Pembroke_ and -the _Tartar_ to the Gulf of Narbonne with a view not only to supply -the Camisards with money and arms and ammunition, but also to land men -to assist them. But, when they arrived off the coast and made signals -all night, there were none on shore who could comprehend them, for the -simple reason that the French Protestant who had been sent by the Earl -of Nottingham from London with the key to these signals, had been -arrested before he could reach Cette, and his body was at the -very time lying broken to pieces and mutilated on the wheel at -Aigues-Mortes. Later, but unhappily much later, the peace that was -patched up between Louis and his Protestant subjects came about not by -the force of arms but by the humanity of a French general, De Villars. - -But neither the Comtesse de Valorme nor the Earl of Marlborough could -look into the glass of Time or tell what seeds should grow and what -should not, and, consequently, if the former did not set out with -Sylvia with her heart thoroughly at ease, at least that heart was full -of hope. Hope that those of her faith might at last be free from the -miseries they had endured so long; from the burnings, the wheels and -dungeons, the gallows formed by their own fruit trees, the deaths from -starvation of their old parents and helpless children, the galleys and -the forced exile to stranger lands. - -And also, she set out with one other great, one supreme hope in her -heart for the immediate future. The hope, coupled with a prayer that -she and Sylvia might be in time to save Bevill from the fate that -still must threaten him, if already the worst had not befallen--the -prayer that, at last, he and Sylvia might be happy. - -"For," she told herself again as she had done many times before, "they -love each other. Let my happiness in this world be to see their -happiness; my greatest hope never to lose hope that they may yet be -united, since, for me, there can never be any other," and, as these -thoughts passed through her mind, the tears fell from her eyes. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - -As the night fell over Liege, a night sombre and dark, and with no -stars beginning to twinkle above, Bevill Bracton turned away from his -accustomed place at the embrasure of the room that was his prison, -while wondering how many more days and nights would pass over his head -ere he left this place for freedom--of one kind or another. For the -days had followed each other in weary rotation--he had, indeed, lost -count of them now, and, except for the continuous clanging of all the -bells on Sundays, and a question sometimes asked of the warder who -brought his meals, he scarce recollected what period of each week he -had arrived at. Nay, more, except that he had rigorously forced -himself to scratch a mark each day with his nail on the rough, -whitewashed wall, he could not have told whether he had been there a -month or two months. There was nothing but the absence of the swallows -that had built under the eaves, the deepening of the russet on the -leaves of the trees outside, and then the fall of the leaves, the -increasing chill of the room in which he had been so long incarcerated -and the shortening of the days, to tell him of the progress of time. - -De Violaine had come to him no more. He had been left entirely to -himself, except for the visits of that one man, the soldier, who acted -as his gaoler. - -Nor did he see or hear aught outside that could relieve the weariness -of his existence. Alone, morning after morning, he observed the -soldiers driving up the mules laden with bread and vegetables for the -supply of all in the Citadel, while, also, morning after morning, he -perceived that the loads on the backs of the animals became more -scanty and that the peasants, who came with their baskets when he was -first brought here, came no more now. Whereby he knew that, gradually, -the provisions of the locality were giving out, or that--and each -morning and night he prayed it might be so--the Allies must be drawing -closer and closer round the French lines, and that either they or his -own countrymen were approaching. For a week now he had also noticed -that the rations brought to him had become more and more scanty, and -that, when his gaoler had placed them before him he had done so with a -surly look which might have been intended for an apology for their -meagreness, or, on the other hand, as one intended to suggest that, at -this time, the fewer unnecessary mouths there were to feed the better -for the others. Not knowing, however, what the man's looks might truly -mean, he made no observation on the sparseness of the meals now -supplied him, to which, in absolute fact, he was utterly indifferent. - -As, however, on this dark, early autumn night Bevill turned away from -the deep window to cast himself on his pallet, neither bedclothes nor -light having ever been supplied him since his detention, he heard -voices speaking below on the stone courtyard which was between the -wall of the fortress itself and the gate known as the Porte de la -Ville. And not only did he hear those voices, but, on turning his eyes -back towards the window, he saw the reflection of some light cast upon -the upper part of the embrasure. A moment later, and even before he -could return to the window to glance below, he heard the sound of -planks and boards being cast down upon the stones. - -"The Allies must be near," he whispered to himself, "very near. And -their presence is known. Some further protection against them is about -to be undertaken, something is to be erected, perhaps to shield or -obscure the defenders. Some mantlets, it may be." - -Then, his heart stirred, his pulses beating at the hopes that had -sprung to his breast; the hopes that even now, at the eleventh hour, -the chance of escape, of rescue, was at hand, Bevill glanced towards -the stone courtyard again. - -The soldiers below were, he saw, undoubtedly about to raise some -erection with the planks and boards they had brought into the -courtyard. Yet, to the mind of the prisoner above, who, in his time, -had not only taken part in sieges but had himself on more than one -occasion been besieged in some strong fortress or town of the -Netherlands, it did not appear that either mantlet or temporary shield -against sharpshooters of the enemy was about to be erected. - -Instead, four large stones, each forming the corner of a square, had -been removed from the earth below, and easily removed, too, as though -this was not the first time they had been subjected to the process. - -A moment later, in the spots those stones had occupied four short -posts had taken their place, while, next, two other stones were -removed in the middle of the square space. A second later a platform, -itself a square of about eight feet, had been lifted on to the top of -those posts and was being nailed down to them at each corner. - -"I misdoubt me of what it is they do," Bevill murmured to himself as -he saw this, while now the warm glow, the throb, the tremor of happy -anticipation that had sprung to his heart but a few moments ago ebbed -from it, leaving in its place a chill as of ice, one that he thought -must be as the chill of death. - -"Ah!" he gasped now. "Ah! It is so. That tells all." - -For the soldiers, still working steadily below, had lifted first one -piece of framework and then another--two long posts that, in their -way, resembled signal posts at crossroads--on to the wooden platform, -had thrust the lower ends through it into the two holes last left -empty, and had gradually fitted them into the vacant spaces. - -As now those things stood there towering some eight feet above the -platform, he almost reeled back into the embrasure. For it needed -nothing more, it needed no rope thrown over the cross-beams that, -illumined alone in the dusky light by the flare of the torches which -burnt flickeringly in the night air, seemed like some ghastly hands -pointing the sombre road to death--to tell him that they were gibbets -awaiting their victims. - -"The hour is at hand," he whispered. "At dawn to-morrow if not now, -I--" then suddenly he paused. "No, no," he exclaimed a moment later. -"Not I! Neither of them is for me. My hour is not yet. They are for -those others--Francbois, Stuven. My death is to be more noble or, at -least, less ignominious. 'Tis true. There is still a chance for me--a -chance for life. For her. For our love and happiness together." - -Yet in an instant Bevill knew that he had spoken too soon. - -As still he gazed below, fascinated by the sight of those awful, -hideous things, he saw the man who was in command of this party, a -sergeant of the dragoons of Risbourg, look round the courtyard as -though in search of something. Next, he saw him advance towards the -farther wall, while evidently counting his footsteps as he did so. -Then, having touched the wall, he recounted them backwards, stopped -two paces short of the spot whence he had before started, and, taking -a chisel out of the hand of one of the others, stooped down and -scratched a long line on the stones. After which he returned to the -wall, made some other rough scratchings on it at about the height of a -man's head, and, pointing his hand at the mark on the stones and -afterwards at that on the wall, said something to the soldier which, -naturally, Bevill could not hear. - -Not hear! Nay, what hearing was necessary--to him, a soldier; to him -who had ere now seen the place marked out where a condemned man was to -stand while, at another place, the spot was marked where the platoon -that should despatch him was to be drawn up! A million words uttered -trumpet-tongued could have told him no more than those significant -actions of the dragoon had done. - -Now that Bevill knew the worst all tremors, all trepidations were -gone, even as every warm glow of hope was gone too. The end was close -at hand, and he knew it. Therefore, all bitterness was past. He was a -soldier, he told himself, an Englishman who had faced thousands of -bullets: a dozen could not fright him now. - -Calmly, as though watching curiously the actions of strangers who -interested him but disturbed him not at all, he leant against the -window frame looking down at the preparations for his death and that -of the others. Counting indifferently, too, the distance between the -scratches on the stones and those on the wall, and endeavouring to -decide whether the muzzles of the muskets would be fourteen or sixteen -paces from his heart as the soldiers presented them! - -Then, suddenly, he saw the men below draw themselves up stiffly to an -attitude of attention, and perceived that De Violaine, enveloped in a -long blue cavalry cloak, had entered the courtyard, and was regarding -the scaffold. Also, he appeared to be giving some directions about one -of the gallows supports, judging by the manner in which he pointed -with his gloved hand to it and by the fact that, a moment later, one -of the men mounted the scaffold and began to make the post more firm -in the socket below it. Next, De Violaine gazed at the marks on the -stones and on the wall, after which he shrugged his shoulders, said a -word to the sergeant, and turned away and left the place. The moment -he was gone Bevill saw that the soldiers had gathered round the -sergeant and seemed to be asking him questions, and that they all -gesticulated earnestly. - -"It will be to-morrow, at dawn," he said to himself as he saw the men -retiring with the almost burnt-out torches in their hands, leaving the -courtyard in darkness. "To-morrow. Ah! I have still six hours or so -left," as now he heard the clock of St. Lambert boom out ten over the -city--the clock he had grown so accustomed to listening to--and -listening for--during his long period of imprisonment. "Six hours in -which to make my peace with God, to humbly fit myself to go before -Him. Hours in which to pray for her who sits at home wondering what -may have befallen me and whether I live or am dead and gone before -her." - -For now, as his hour of death drew near, his thoughts turned not to -the girl whom he had but lately known and learnt to love, but to his -grey-haired mother whose love had been his from the moment of his -birth; at whose knees he had learned to lisp his first prayer. - -Yet still there was not absent from his mind the stately form, the -beautiful face of Sylvia--the latter ever present to him as he had -seen it last--bedashed with tears and piteous in its sorrow. Of her he -could think, too, and would think as the order to the platoon was -given, as the flints fell, and, a second later, the bullets found his -heart. - -"Sylvia! Mother!" he murmured. "The two I had in the world to love me -and to love; the two who will mourn my end. The one but for a short -time, since now she is grown old and feeble; but the other--ah! God, -it may be for years." - -In the darkness he had reached his pallet, intent on casting himself -on his knees by it and so passing his last few hours--later, there -would be a long sleep!--when he heard a sound he had grown well -accustomed to in the last few weeks--the sound of a soldier's tread, -of the keys jangling in his hand as he came on. - -"Is it now?" Bevill whispered. "Now? At once? If so, be brave. A -soldier. And--remember. Their names the last upon your lips, their -memories the last in your thoughts." - -A moment later the key grated in the lock, the door was opened, and a -soldier bearing a flambeau came in accompanied by De Violaine. - -"Set down the light," the latter said, "place it in the socket and -leave us." After which, and when the man was gone, De Violaine -advanced towards where Bevill stood and said quietly, yet while -seeming to brace himself to speak: - -"Means were found to communicate with M. Tallard." - -"Ah!" - -"To summon him to our assistance. He has not come, but----" - -"I understand," Bevill said, instantly, divining the remainder of what -the other would say; "I have seen the preparations made below. The -warrants are signed. Is it?" he asked calmly, "to be now or at dawn?" - -"It had to be done, no matter what pity, what sympathy you aroused. In -the position that all who judged you stood, they had to be inflexible -in their honour, in their duty." - -"I need hear no more. Yet, my time is short. I would spend it alone." - -"Do not misunderstand me. The warrants are signed but a message has -come from--from De Boufflers--that overrides those warrants. A -message has been brought by a swift, a willing messenger--one who -would speak with you." - -Utterly bewildered, yet with once more that mad rush of joy to his -heart as he comprehended that the Marshal's message nullified the -signed warrant of his subordinate; that, for a time at least, his life -was safe, Bevill could scarcely understand clearly De Violaine's -latter words, nor, as a matter of fact, his halting manner and strange -agitation. Yet one thing alone he did understand, namely, that De -Violaine seemed to suppose some self-extenuation to be necessary in -regard to the inflexibility of which he had spoken--an extenuation for -which, in truth, Bevill himself saw no occasion, remembering De -Violaine's position and the position in which he, by his own actions, -had placed himself. - -But now he found his voice; his words fell pell-mell over each other -as he said: - -"I am bewildered. I--I--the suddenness of this reprieve, even though -it be no more, has dulled my senses. I cannot understand. A messenger -here from Le Marechal de Boufflers--to me--a condemned spy! Brought by -a swift, a willing messenger." - -"A messenger, now a prisoner like yourself!" - -"In mercy, I beseech you explain--" But he stopped. For, even as De -Violaine uttered these last words, he went towards the door and -returned a moment later, leading a woman by the hand--a woman who was -wrapped in a long _houppelande_, or lady's riding cloak, but who, -since the furred hood was thrown back from her face, was a moment -later clasped to Bevill's heart. - -* * * * * * * - -"I am in time. Thank God, thank God," Sylvia had said again and again -after that fond embrace, and when now they were alone, or -comparatively alone, since De Violaine had departed as those two met, -though leaving the turnkey outside in the corridor and also leaving -the door open--open because, it may be, of what he knew was now going -on outside the city. Because, if all happened as he feared, those -locked within the cells or rooms of that Citadel would soon have very -little chance of leaving them alive. Marlborough was within three -miles of Liege; already the magistracy and the commissioners of the -Cathedral chapter were arranging to deliver up the city to him, and -St. Walburgh had been set on fire by the French garrison. Already, -too, De Violaine had been summoned by the advance portion of -Marlborough's army to surrender, but had replied that "it would be -time enough to consider that when their provisions were exhausted, six -weeks hence." - -"My love, my love," Sylvia murmured. "I have saved you--you who would -have died to save me--you who strove so valiantly." - -"And failed! Yet did not fail either, since are not you, my sweet, the -gain of a loss?" - -"Also another reward is yours. Lord Marlborough restores you to the -life you covet, the life that I would have you lead, except only for -one thing." - -"One thing. What, Sylvia?" - -"That, following this life, I must part from you; must let you go from -my side. You whom I would have ever near to me, you from whom I would -never part more, you whom I love with my whole heart and soul." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - -The suburb of St. Walburgh was in flames, the French soldiers, -consisting of twelve battalions who had been stationed there, had come -into the Citadel and the Chartreuse. A hundred houses had been set on -fire by them, and, ere dawn came, all that part of Liege was as light -as day. The magistracy and the chapter against whom no orders, even if -they had been issued, could have had any effect since now the gates -were neglected by the French, had visited Marlborough in his camp -outside, and had signed articles as to the disposition of the city and -all in it, while three English battalions under Lord Cutts, and three -Dutch, held the North gate and endeavoured to keep order in the -streets. It only remained now that the artillery should arrive, the -fascines be cut and the trenches opened for the Citadel and Chartreuse -to be attacked, unless those within them surrendered. - -Inside that room in which Bevill had passed so many weary days, -waiting to meet the doom that had been pronounced on him, there were -now three prisoners, namely, he who had so long occupied it, the woman -he loved so tenderly, and the Comtesse de Valorme. For she, too, had -been detained by De Violaine in consequence of her having escaped with -Sylvia out of Liege, and placed herself in communication with the -enemy. Inflexible to the last, strong in his duty towards the -interests of the country he loved and the King whom he despised, he -had done that which honour demanded and made prisoners of both women. - -"Yet," he said bitterly to the Comtesse, as he informed her of what -must be done, "be cheered. Our positions must soon be reversed. The -old walls of this Citadel and of the Chartreuse will not long resist -the battering pieces and mortars, or the double grenades, that the -Earl of Marlborough is known to have with him, and then--well, -then!--you will be free. I shall be the prisoner." - -"At least," Sylvia, who had heard his words, said, "you will be a -noble one--noble as I shall ever esteem you, though now I know that -your hand signed the condemnation of my lover; that in your stern, -rigid sense of honour you found the means of communicating with M. -Tallard, of obtaining his confirmation of the sentence. Ah!" she -continued, "that one so loyal as you should serve so evil a master." - -"Duty before all, mademoiselle," De Violaine answered. "When Louis -gave me my first brevet, when I vowed fidelity to him and France, -there was no more noble king in Europe, in the whole world. There was -no master less cruel to his subjects, no matter what their faith was." - -Now, on this night, however, De Violaine was not there, but, instead, -on the battlement of the Citadel directing all preparations to be made -for resisting the siege. For already the English artillery which had -come up the Meuse was disembarked and most of it dragged up the hill -upon which the Citadel stood, as were also forty-eight huge mortars -invented by the great engineer C[oe]horn (who was now present with the -force), as well as several Seville mortars, the bombs from which could -blow to pieces the walls and doors of fortresses. And, ominous sign -for those within the Citadel! the fuses were all lighted. - -Behind these lay the troops of General Ingoldsby and Brigadier -Stanley, as well as four companies of the Grenadiers, while, to -protect them from being taken in the rear, were the dragoons and -Bevill's old regiment, the Cuirassiers. - -Afar off the autumn dawn was coming now; away towards where the Rhine -lay, the eyes of those three watchers could see the darkness of the -night changing to grey, and, swiftly, the grey to a pale daffodil that -told of the dayspring which was at hand; then, next, a fleck of flame -shot like a barbed arrow above the daffodil that was changing to pink -and opal; the rim of the sun was seen to be swiftly mounting behind. -At this moment, clearly on the still, cold morning air a trumpet rang -out beneath the Citadel; another answered from below the Chartreuse -across the river; a moment later the C[oe]horns had belched forth -their bombs and the six and twelve pounders of the artillery had made -their first discharge. - -"Oh! to be there!" Bevill cried. "There behind them, with the old -regiment, instead of a helpless man, a waster, here. Yet, no, no! My -place is here by you, my heart, my very own, to save and help you even -as you have saved me." - -But from Sylvia there came no response, or, at least, none in answer -to his words. Instead, from the lips of both these women, brave as -each was, there came a cry, a gasp that was in actual fact a -suppressed shriek. Already against the wall of the Citadel more than -one bomb had struck and exploded with an awful crash; they saw falling -swiftly before the window huge masses of detached masonry that -thundered a moment later on to the stones of the courtyard below; they -saw, through the grime and smoke that rolled suddenly away on the -breathless, unstirred morning air, that slowly the English infantry -was creeping up nearer the great guns in preparation for a rush. For -already a breach was made below; it was not only the side of the -Citadel that was now being battered by the attackers. - -Still, a little later, the mouth of the embrasure was closed by the -explosion of a bomb, that, while shattering the window into a million -pieces, burst in the stone framework and also dislodged the stones -above. Those in the room were therefore in darkness once more, a -darkness as profound as that of the night now passed away, and, with -an anxious cry, Bevill demanded if either of his companions had been -struck by the dislodged masonry. - -"Ah! heaven be praised," he cried, finding both were safe. "But now, -now, the time has come to leave this. The door is still open; even -were it not so, none would keep us confined here at such a moment. -Come! Come At least let us make our way below." - -Then, hurriedly escorting Sylvia and the Comtesse through the -corridors in which--though they passed now and again French soldiers -hurrying either up or down the staircase--they met with no -molestation, they reached the _salle d'armes_ on the lower floor. - -Yet, as they did so, they saw also the terrible devastation that the -bombardment had already wrought. One side of a corridor, the outer one -formed by the great front of the Citadel, was entirely blown away; a -room or large cell that presented the appearance of having been -recently occupied--since they saw within it the _debris_ of a -shattered pallet and a table--was a mass of ruins; the three remaining -sides were open to the morning air. Also, more than once, the women -had to raise their dresses to step over wounded men lying in the -passages, who had doubtless been shot while themselves firing from the -windows. - -But still they were in the _salle d'armes_: here, since it was not -quite so exposed to the fire of the besiegers, they might hope to -remain in comparative safety. - -"Come," Bevill said to his companions. "Come to this corner. At this -spot you are farthest removed from the outer wall which is alone -likely to be struck. Meanwhile, since one knows not what violence -these soldiers may attempt in the bitterness of their defeat, it is as -well I should be armed." Saying which he moved towards the trophies of -ancient weapons that decorated all the inner side of the great -_salle_, and let his eyes rove over the swords that hung upon the -wall. - -"This should serve," he said to himself, reaching out his hand towards -a great Schiavona or Venetian broadsword; one with a long bi-convex -blade that, in the hands of an expert and powerful swordsman, might do -terrible execution. - -Returning now to where Sylvia and Madame de Valorme were, Bevill -seated himself by the former's side while telling both that the -Citadel must soon surrender before such an attack as this now being -made, and that, doubtless, the Chartreuse must be in the same -position. Yet his words fell almost unheard upon their ears, so awful -was the din around. From the roof of this old fortress discharge -followed discharge unceasingly; from the windows the crack of muskets -went on, and still against the walls the artillery balls and the bombs -of the besiegers thundered and crashed. - -"It must cease ere long," Bevill said. "Ah! do not look. Avert your -glances. They are already bringing down the wounded from above," while -he added beneath his breath, "and the slain." - -As he spoke, what was evidently either a powder magazine or one for -grenades blew up with an awful roar, while the concussion caused even -that old solid hall to rock. And now Sylvia and the Comtesse threw -themselves on their knees by the bench on which they had been sitting, -and prayed that further slaughter and devastation might be spared. - -Also, each prayed for him who, by their side, was keeping watch and -ward over them; for him who, entering but a few months earlier into -their lives, had now become so dear to them. - -Unwilling to disturb them even by the closeness of his presence, -Bevill softly withdrew towards the other end of the _salle d'armes_; -towards that spot where he had stood to hear his fate pronounced, the -spot where Stuven had denounced Francbois as a liar and himself as the -executioner of the renegade, Sparmann. Towards, also, that spot where -the doomsman had stood above the awful instruments of his calling. He -stood there, looking on the scene where all these things had happened, -when, suddenly, there rang through the hall the shriek of a woman, -and, next, a cry from Sylvia's lips. "Bevill! Look, look! Beware. Look -behind you!" - -In an instant he saw that which had so much terrified the girl he -loved. Creeping from behind a pillar there came towards him a man with -a weapon in his hand that had, doubtless, also been taken earlier from -the collection of arms--a man whom at first he did not recognise, so -ghastly was his face, so wildly staring his eyes, so dishevelled his -whole appearance. But in a moment he knew him. He knew that this was -Francbois, Francbois who should have died this morning, but who, in -the confusion of the siege, had escaped from wherever he had been -confined. - -"Wretch!" he exclaimed, as, turning, he recognised him. "Doubly -treacherous wretch! Again you seek my life, again attempt it behind my -back." - -"I love her," the other hissed. "Her, her! And she loves you. So -be it. She shall have nought but your memory left to love," and he -sprang full at Bevill, while brandishing the sword he held. For a -moment--only a moment--it was in Bevill's mind to run the craven -through from breast to back, as he came on. Yet, in a second moment -the thought was gone. If Francbois were not mad he was still beneath -his vengeance. Whatever his doom might be, now or in the future, he -should not find it at his hands; those hands should not be stained by -the blood of such as he. - - -[Illustration: "A moment later Bevill's foot was on the blade."] - - -Stepping back, therefore, as the other came full at him, one turn of -the Schiavona, as it met the blade wielded by the other, was enough. -That blade fell with a clang from Francbois' hand to the stone floor; -a moment later Bevill's foot was on it. - -"Go, hangdog," he said. "Seek another executioner than I." - -With a cry--almost pitiful in its tone of misery, vile as the creature -was--with a howl of wild despair, Francbois rushed now across the -_salle d'armes_ to the other side of it; the side against which the -English bombs and cannon balls were being hurled, and there -endeavoured to snatch a huge mace out of another trophy of arms. But, -suddenly, not only he but Bevill, and also the two affrighted women, -started with terror at that which they saw now. - -From another door than the one by which they had entered they saw a -second figure approaching, creeping towards Francbois; a figure in -whose eyes there was a more awful light than even those of Francbois -possessed; one whose lips gibbered as the lips of the raving maniac -gibber; whose face was flecked with the foam from them. It was the -form of Stuven, also free, of Stuven, now an absolute demoniac, that -they saw; the form of the man whose thirst for the blood of spies and -traitors was at its height. Armed also with an ancient weapon, a thing -pointed and sharp like the shell-dag of mediaeval days, he crept as -swiftly towards Francbois as the panther creeps towards its prey, -while uttering incoherent sounds yet telling plainly all that was in -his distraught brain by the look that shone from out those awful, -scintillating eyes, and by the hideous twitching of that mouth. And -Francbois, paralysed with fear, shrieked aloud and turned to flee. At -this moment the madman flew with a bound at him, the great two-handled -knife was raised--yet it was never fated to be buried in the unhappy -wretch's breast. - -There came a fresh discharge of bombs and artillery against the wall -of the _salle d'armes_, that wall already so sorely tried; the -trembling, half-fainting women, with Bevill now by their side, saw the -whole mass bulge inwardly, even as a sail bulges when a fierce gust of -wind catches it; a horrible, cracking roar was heard, a blinding dust -filled the room. In front of them a fearful chasm yawned as the -greater portion of that side of the hall fell in, while carrying below -part of the floor, and, at the same time, exposing the whole of the -besiegers to their gaze. - -Francbois's would-be executioner had found him, and together they had -perished. - -An instant later Bevill, looking out through the great opening made by -the fall of that side of the _salle d'armes_, observed that an order -had been suddenly given by the English for all firing to cease, and -knew that, above the Citadel, a white flag must be flying now. Also, -he saw the English flag run up upon the outer wall, he heard the -soldiers huzzaing and singing the National Anthem--then so new, now -known over all the world! he knew that Liege was in Marlborough's -hands. - -Clasping Sylvia to his heart with one hand, as with the other he held -that of Madame de Valorme, he murmured: "The end of these griefs has -come," while a moment later he whispered in Sylvia's ear, "Sweet love, -all fears are done with. Hope shines resplendent on us at last." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - -Outside Mynheer Van Ryck's house, a month or so later, there stood a -coach upon which was placed a small amount of baggage. By its side, -held by a groom who had some considerable difficulty in restraining -its restlessness, a bright bay mare emitted great gusts from her -nostrils and pawed the stones impatiently--a mare on the corners of -whose saddle-cloth were stamped a crown, the letters "A.R." and a pair -of cross swords, as was also the case with the holsters and the -bridle-plate. - -After the fall of the Citadel, and before the French were allowed to -march out on condition that they returned at once into France and -separated, the whole place had been ransacked by the English troops, -and amongst the horses found was one that, later, a mousquetaire said -belonged to the English prisoner who should have been shot the day the -Citadel fell. That prisoner, being now at liberty, was sent for by -orders of General Ingoldsby, and, when the meeting between him and the -animal was witnessed, there was no need for him to confirm the -statement. - -For La Rose, on hearing Bevill's voice, created such a stampede among -the other horses and rushed at him with such endearments--testified by -nearly knocking him down with her head and then by rubbing her soft, -velvet muzzle all over him as she whinnied loudly--that there and then -before the English victors and French captives he vowed that never -would he part from her. - -Now, therefore, she waited for him to come forth and mount her, so -that he might ride by the coach that conveyed his wife to England. - -For, a fortnight since, in one of those churches of the Reformed Faith -that had sprung up in every part of the Netherlands since the days of -William the Liberator, Sylvia and Bevill had been made man and wife, -my lord Marlborough's chaplain having performed the ceremony. And, -though there were not many present to witness the bridal, they were -mostly those amongst whom Bevill's lot had been cast since first he -made the attempt to assist Sylvia to escape from Liege--an attempt -that again and again he told himself had resulted only in failure, yet -a failure that brought so fair and welcome a success in its train as -that which now he experienced. - -From Van Ryck's hands he received his bride; close by them stood the -Comtesse de Valorme, her face calm and tranquil, but revealing nothing -of whatever might be within. Also there were present Captain Barringer -and Sir George Saxby, as well as one or two officers of the -Cuirassiers who had been junior to Bevill in the regiment but were now -captains. Yet there was one other person present, clad as before in -the blue coat and still wearing across his breast the blue ribbon of -the Garter; still tranquil, too, as became a man able to read and -forecast his destiny and the splendour of a near future. He who was -now, in the space of a month or so, to attain the highest rank an -English subject can hold; he who, two years hence, was to crush beyond -all power of recovery the armies of the most superb despot Europe had -ever known. - -Bevill's kiss--the first kiss as her husband--on Sylvia's brow, her -hand upon his arm, they left the altar, and, when the after -formalities had been concluded, made their way from out the church. -But ere they left it the Earl of Marlborough, taking from his breast a -paper, said: - -"For wedding-gifts there is no opportunity, yet one I would -proffer to you. Mr. Bracton, I know the hopes with which you set -out from England. It is in my power to gratify them, since I, as -Captain-General, stand here for the Queen. Our late ruler removed you -from the service you loved; I, in the name of our present one, restore -you to it. Some years of opportunity, of promotion, you must lose of -necessity; your brother officers of the Cuirassers who were your -juniors will now be your seniors. Yet, take heart. You possess two -things that should go far to spur you on to gallant efforts: a fair, a -noble bride--and youth." - -Then, without giving Bevill time to utter the thanks that, though his -breast was full of them, his lips might have found difficulty in -uttering, the Earl left the church, after kissing the hands of Sylvia -and the Comtesse, and giving his own to Bevill. - -The absence of that one whom Bevill would fain have seen present in -the church, his late custodian, the gallant De Violaine, was felt -regretfully by him. Yet it was not to be. As the breach was made soon -after the siege began, De Violaine, rushing from the roof to where the -English grenadiers were pouring through it, received a thrust from one -of the officers' swords. Later, as Bevill and Sylvia passed from the -_salle d'armes_, they saw him lying in the covered way and being -ministered to by one of the regimental surgeons. This sad sight -produced in the tender heart of Radegonde de Valorme a feeling, a -recollection of past years and of the fortitude with which this man -had borne the blighting of the one great hope that had filled his -heart during those years. As she saw him stretched now upon the coarse -sacking on which he had been laid; as she recognised that, from first -to last, he had had no companion but his duty to cheer his lonely -life, her memory flew swiftly back to earlier days--the days when he, -young, elated with the promise of his career, favoured by fortune, had -craved only one other thing, a woman's--her own love--and had failed -to obtain his heart's desire. - -Swiftly she advanced now towards him; a moment later she was kneeling -by his side; still a moment later she was murmuring. "Andre! Andre! -Ah! say this is not the end. Ah, no! it cannot, cannot be. You are -still young--oh!" And she wept. - -"He may live," the surgeon who had been told off to watch by De -Violaine's side said. "If the fever from his wound abates to-night he -may do so." - -"I pray God," the Comtesse said, then whispered again to the wounded -man, "Andre, I will not leave Liege until I see you restored. You -shall be removed to Van Ryck's house. I alone will nurse you back to -recovery." - -But De Violaine, understanding her words, murmured: - -"As well leave me. What matters now my life or death!" - - -The impatience of La Rose grew greater as still the rider whom the -wayward creature had loved to carry on her back, the rider for whom -she had pined and fretted during their long separation, did not come. -Yet soon, though she did not know it, that impatience would be at an -end. Inside the old Dutch house the last partings were being made; the -two who were going forth from it, never perhaps to cross its threshold -again, were bidding farewell to those left behind. Even now Bevill was -standing by the couch on which De Violaine lay through the long days, -while from his lips fell the last words that he supposed he would ever -utter to him whose prisoner he had been, to him who had been so humane -a custodian. - -"I pray," he was saying now, "that your recovery may be swift and -assured; I pray that between your land and mine peace may exist at -last. Above all, I pray that we may never meet as opposing soldiers; -that, where'er the tide of war shall roll, it shall not bring us face -to face. But, as friends--ah, yes! For, Monsieur de Violaine, be my -life long or short as best it pleases God, I shall ever hold dear the -memory of him who, when he had me in his hand, treated me neither as -spy nor foreign foe, but with a gentleness such as a noble heart alone -could prompt." - -"Farewell. Heaven bless you!" De Violaine said. "You should be very -happy. I, too, will pray for that happiness. And, should we ever meet -again it shall be as brothers, an' you will. For brothers we are in -our faith and in our calling. Farewell." - -And now all were parted with, excepting only one--Radegonde. Madame -Van Ryck could not leave her bed, so Bevill and Sylvia had gone in to -her. There remained no more than the parting with that true friend and -the last handshake with Van Ryck, himself true to the core. - -"Ah how can I leave you!" Sylvia sobbed, as now the two women were -locked in each other's arms. "You--you whom I have always loved; you -without whom I could have done nought for him. Oh! Radegonde, shall we -never meet again?" - -"God He knows," the other answered reverently. "I pray so. Ah, Sylvia! -Sweet Sylvia." - -But at last they forced themselves apart; at last Bevill stood face to -face with her who, from almost the first moment they met at Louvain, -had been staunch and firm to him--face to face for the last time, -Sylvia standing back by the door open to the great porch. Then, ere he -could find his voice, which, indeed, it seemed to him was impossible, -he heard her saying even as her hand held his: - -"Farewell. If ever in happy days to come for you your memory should -chance to wander back to that night in Louvain when first our -knowledge of each other arose; to the woman who was to play some -little part in your existence--for--a time, spare her a--a--one -moment's thought. Think of her as--as one----" But now her voice -failed her, too, and she was silent. - -Neither could Bevill speak yet, and still stood there holding her hand -in his even as he observed the trembling of her lips, the tears -standing in her soft blue, eyes--even as he heard the word "Bevill" -murmured through those lips. - -But, also, he observed something else as his troubled glance fell now -upon his wife. He saw Sylvia's own lips move though no sound issued -from them; he saw some suggestion, some prompting in Sylvia's own -clear, grey eyes; and, seeing, grasped what they conveyed. Bending -therefore to her who stood before him, he parted the hair that grew -low down upon her forehead; bending still lower, he kissed her -once--even as a brother might have kissed a loved sister. "Farewell, -Radegonde;" he whispered, "Farewell," and saw by one swift glance at -Sylvia's face that he had comprehended her meaning. - -Yet never through the long life that was to be his did he know what -Sylvia's womanly heart had told her, nor understand that which she -understood. - -* * * * * * * - -Embosomed in the woods of Surrey there stands a house once white, now -grey, on the face of which the lichen and the ivy picturesquely -mingle. In front of it sweeps down a lawn to where a little river -bubbles over the pebbles of its bed; round it are arbours and bosquets -of quaint shape over which grows clematis many-hued--white, purple, -flame-coloured. Round that lawn, too, grow trees that are ancient now, -and that, when young, drew their existence from other lands than ours. -Against the pilasters of the great porch, which gives entrance to a -vast hall and supports a balcony on to which all the windows of the -first floor open, trails a passion flower, old--perhaps, indeed, -oft-times renewed in memory of him who planted the first one; of him -who may have whispered as he did so: "'Twas by such flowers as these -you were embowered, enshrined, on that night when first we met; so -long as may be shall that flower grow against our home, the White -House." For if from Holland, in those far-off days, some had wandered -here who had ever gazed on a white house standing on the outskirts of -Liege, they must have seen, and, seeing, recognised another house so -like to it that its resemblance could be no fanciful one, but, in -truth, a resemblance carefully studied and wrought. - -In the great hall whose vast stairs at the farther end curve up on -either side, many pictures hang and tell of what the originals must -have been in life. Bevill, first Lord Bracton, is there, mounted on a -bay horse, his uniform that of the Cuirassiers, or 4th Horse, his -ribbons and orders showing that he held general's rank. On one side of -this picture the painter has placed in a vertical line the words, -"Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet," to testify that he who -looks down took part in those glorious victories. - -Yet if, as in truth, he does thus look down, either the limner's art, -or the light cast at certain times from the great roof above, appears -to make those eyes rest on one whose full-length portrait hangs by the -side of his. On her! On his wife--some few years older in the picture -than when first she learnt to love him and when, through rain and -mire, she rushed as fast as might be to gain the help of Marlborough. -A little older, yes; but not less fair and sweet. Stately as ever in -her grace of matronhood; noble in her height, beautiful in feature, -and with her clear, pure eyes undimmed, though in her rich brown hair -some silver threads are seen. In each hand the woman holds the hand of -a child. - - -[Illustration: "Now the two were locked in each other's arms."] - - -On Lord Bracton's left there is another portrait, the picture of a -woman no longer young, her almost grey hair massed above her head, but -her eyes clear and bright as when first they gazed on Bevill Bracton -in Louvain, while over all her features there is a look of content. By -her side stands a youth still in his teens, one so like this woman -that none can doubt he is her son. - -Facing the entrance hangs a larger picture than all-- -that of a handsome man in scarlet and covered with orders and -decorations; one whose tranquil features and soft lineaments bespeak -calm self-reliance; confidence. On a medallion beneath this are the -words: "John, first Duke of Marlborough and Marquess of Blandford, -Prince of the Holy Roman Empire and Prince of Mindelheim in Suabia." - -Around the house are copses and thickets, and outside them the woods, -in all of which have played five or six generations of children, some -of them Bractons, some of them named De Violaine. Also, in the dead -and gone days that Time has powdered for ever with its dust, these -children have grown up and intermarried in the old church near by, the -living of which has been held perpetually for over a hundred and fifty -years by De Violaines, all of whom are descended from a French refugee -officer who settled here. It must be, therefore--since that refugee -would never have taken any but one woman for his wife--that, at last, -Radegonde de Valorme was enabled to forget the sufferings of him who -died at the galleys for his religion's sake, to reconcile herself to -seeing Sylvia wedded to the Englishman who came once into her life and -troubled her thoughts; that she was contented to eventually make happy -the gallant soldier who had loved her so long. - -There is one little copse to which those children of different -generations have always loved to resort, and, after playing, to sit -there and talk of its associations with old days--a little copse of -nut-trees and red may, in which they find the earliest white violets -and where, they say, the robins always build their nests and the -nightingales love to sit and sing on summer nights. Yet, as they tell -their little stories to each other and weave not only fancies of the -past, but, it may be, of the future as well, their eyes rest upon a -great stone slab that lies along the ground embedded in grass and -overgrown with moss--moss that, however, many tiny hands have often -scraped and brushed away so that they might once more read the two -words cut into that stone by some old graver of bygone days--the -words, "La Rose." - - - -FOOTNOTES - -[Footnote 1: The pistole at this period was worth L3 6s. 6d.] - -[Footnote 2: Brantome, who lived shortly after Charles V.'s time, says -all the other monarchs called him this because he never kept a treaty, -and cheated everybody.] - -[Footnote 3: Now the 1st (Royal) Dragoons.] - -[Footnote 4: The Mousquetaires Noirs and Gris were thus described from -the colour of their horses. They were the _corps d'elite_ of France. -The one had been established by Louis XIV., the other by Mazarin.] - - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Sword of Gideon, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SWORD OF GIDEON *** - -***** This file should be named 52979.txt or 52979.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/7/52979/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of Michigan) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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