CHAPTER XI

Marie and Victor

"Are you taking me to the girls, Harry?"

"No," Harry said. "It would not be safe to do so. There are already suspicions, and they have been denounced."

Marie gave a cry of alarm.

"I have managed to suppress the document, Marie, and we start with them in a day or two. Still it will be better for you not to go near them. I will arrange for you to meet them to-morrow."

"Where am I going, then?"

"You are going to the house of a worthy couple, who have shown themselves faithful and trustworthy by nursing a friend of mine, who has for nearly six months been lying ill there. You will be perfectly safe there till we can arrange matters."

"But if Robespierre has signed my release, as they said, I am safe enough, surely, and can go where I like."

"I think you will be safe from re-arrest here in Paris, Marie, because you could appeal to him; but outside Paris it might be different. However, we can talk about that to-morrow, when you have had a good night's rest."

Harry did not think it necessary to say, that when Lebat was missed it would probably be ascertained that he was last seen leaving La Force with her, and that if inquiries were set on foot about him she might be sought for. However, Marie said no more on the subject, quite content that Harry should make whatever arrangements he thought best, and she now began to ask all sorts of questions about her sisters, and so passed the time until they were close to the Place de Carrousel; then Harry called Jacques to stop.

"Will you please get out, Marie, and wait with our good friend here till I return. I shall be back in five minutes. I have to hand the coach over to its owner."

Jacques threw Lebat's clothes over his arm and got down from the box. Harry took his seat and drove into the Place, where he found the coachman awaiting him.

"Have you managed the job?"

"That we have," Harry said. "He has a lesson, and Isabel has gone off to her friends again. Poor little girl, I hope it will cure her of her flightiness. Here is your cape and your money, my friend, and thank you."

"You are heartily welcome," the driver said, mounting his box. "I wish I could do as well every day; but these are bad times for us, and money is precious scarce, I can tell you."

Harry soon rejoined Jacques and Marie. There were but few words said as they made their way through the streets, for Marie was weakened by her long imprisonment, and shaken by what she had gone through. She had not asked a single question as to what had become of Lebat; but she had no doubt that he was killed. She had grown, however, almost indifferent to death. Day after day she had seen batches of her friends taken out to execution, and the retribution which had fallen upon this wretch gave her scarcely a thought, except a feeling of thankfulness that she was freed from his persecutions. Completely as she trusted Harry, it was with the greatest difficulty that she had brought herself to obey his instructions and to place herself for a moment in the power of her persecutor, and appear to go with him willingly.

When Lebat told her triumphantly that he had saved her from death, and that she was to have formed one of the party in the tumbril on the following morning had he not obtained her release, she had difficulty in keeping back the indignant words, that she would have preferred death a thousand times. When he said that he had come to take her away, she had looked round with a terrified face, as if to claim the protection of the guards; but he had said roughly:

"It is no use your objecting, you have got to go with me; and if you are a wise woman you had better make the best of it. After all I am not very terrible, and you had better marry me than the guillotine."

So, trembling with loathing and disgust, she had followed him, resolved that if Harry's plan to rescue her failed she would kill herself rather than be the wife of this man.

When they reached the house Elise opened the door.

"So you have come, poor lamb!" she said. "Thanks to the good God that all has turned out well. You will be safe here, my child. We are rough people, but we will take care of you as if you were our own."

So saying she led the girl to the little sitting-room which they had prepared for her, for they had that afternoon taken the other two rooms on the floor they occupied, which were fortunately to let, and had fitted them up as a bed-room and sitting-room for her. There was already a communication existing between the two sets of apartments, and they had only to remove some brickwork between the double doors to throw them into one suite. Telling Marie to sit down, Elise hurried off and returned with a basin of bouillon.

"Drink this, my dear, and then go straight to bed; your friend will be here in good time in the morning, and then you can talk over matters with him." She waited to see Marie drink the broth, and then helped her to undress.

"She will be asleep in five minutes," she said when she rejoined her husband and Harry. "She is worn out with excitement, but a night's rest will do wonders for her. Don't come too early in the morning, Monsieur Sandwith; she is sure to sleep late, and I would not disturb her till she wakes of herself."

"I will be here at nine," Harry said, "and will go round before that and tell her sisters. They will be wondering they have seen nothing of me to-day, but I was afraid to tell them until it was all over. The anxiety would have been too great for them."

It was fortunate that Robespierre went out early on the following morning to attend a meeting at the Jacobins, and Harry was therefore saved the necessity for asking leave to absent himself again. At eight o'clock he was at Louise Moulin's.

"What is it, Harry?" Jeanne exclaimed as he entered. "I can see you have news. What is it?"

"I have news," Harry said, "and good news, but you must not excite yourselves."

"Have you found a way for getting Marie out?"

"Yes, I have found a way."

"A sure, certain way, Harry?" Virginie asked. "Not only a chance?"

"A sure, certain way," Harry replied. "You need have no more fear; Marie will certainly be freed."

The two girls stood speechless with delight. It never occurred to them to doubt Harry's words when he spoke so confidently.

"Have you told us all, Harry?" Jeanne asked a minute later, looking earnestly in his face. "Can it be? Is she really out already?"

"Yes," Harry said, "thank God, dears, your sister is free."

With a cry of delight Virginie sprang to him, and throwing her arms round his neck, kissed him in the exuberance of her happiness. Louise threw her apron over her head and burst into tears of thankfulness, while Jeanne put her hand on his shoulder and said:

"Oh, Harry, how can we ever thank you enough for all you have done for us?"

Six months back Jeanne would probably have acted as Virginie did, but those six months had changed her greatly; indeed, ever since she received that note from Marie, which she had never shown even to Virginie, there had been a shade of difference in her manner to Harry, which he had more than once noticed and wondered at.

It was some little time before the girls were sufficiently composed to listen to Harry's story.

"But why did you not bring her here, Harry?" Virginie asked. "Why did you take her somewhere else?"

"For several reasons, Virginie. I have not told you before, but there is no reason why you should not know now, that Victor is still in Paris."

Virginie uttered an exclamation of wonder.

"He stopped here to look after you all, but he has had a very bad illness, and is still terribly weak, and does not even know me. Marie will nurse him. I have great hopes that he will know her, and that she may be able in time to effect a complete cure. In the next place I think it would be dangerous to bring her here, for we must leave in a very few days."

"What, go without her?"

"Yes, I am afraid so, Virginie. I have learned, Louise, that some of your neighbours have their suspicions, and that a letter of denunciation has already been sent, so it will be absolutely necessary to make a move. I have suppressed the first letter, but the writer will probably not let the matter drop, and may write to Danton or Marat next time, so we must go without delay. You cannot change your lodging, for they would certainly trace you; besides, at the present time the regulations about lodgers are so strict that no one would dare receive you until the committee of the district have examined you and are perfectly satisfied. Therefore, I think we must go alone. Marie is wanted here, and I think she will be far safer nursing Victor than she would be with us; besides, now she has been freed by Robespierre's orders, I do not think there is any fear of her arrest even if her identity were discovered. Lastly, it would be safer to travel three than four. Three girls travelling with a young fellow like me would be sure to attract attention. It will be difficult enough in any case, but it would certainly be worse with her with us."

"But we are to see her, Harry?" Jeanne said. "Surely we are not to go away without seeing Marie!"

"Certainly not, Jeanne; I am not so cruel as that. This evening, after dark, we will meet in the gardens of the Tuileries. Louise, will you bring them down and be with them near the main entrance? I will bring Marie there at six o'clock. And now I must be off; I have to break the news to Marie that Victor is in the same house with her and ill. I did not tell her last night. She will be better able to bear it after a good night's sleep."

Marie was up and dressed when Harry arrived, and was sitting by the fire in the little kitchen.

"I have just left your sisters, Marie," Harry said, "and you may imagine their delight at the news I gave them. You are to see them this evening in the gardens of the Tuileries."

"Oh, Harry, how good you are! How much you have done for us!"

Harry laughed lightly.

"Not very much yet; besides, it has been a pleasure as well as a duty. The girls have both been so brave, and Jeanne has the head of a woman."

"She is nearly a woman now, Harry," Marie said gently. "She is some months past sixteen, and though you tell me girls of that age in England are quite children, it is not so here. Why, it is nothing uncommon for a girl to marry at sixteen."

"Well, at anyrate," Harry said, "Jeanne has no time for any thought of marrying just at present. But there is another thing I want to tell you about. I have first a confession to make. I have deceived you."

"Deceived me!" Marie said with a smile. "It can be nothing very dreadful, Harry. Well, what is it?"

"It is more serious than you think, Marie. Now you know that when the trouble began I felt it quite out of the question for me to run away, and leave you all here in Paris unprotected. Such a thing would have been preposterous."

"You think so, Harry, because you have a good heart; but most people would have thought of themselves, and would not have run all sorts of risks for the sake of three girls with no claim upon them."

"Well, Marie, you allow then that a person with a good heart would naturally do as I did."

"Well, supposing I do, Harry, what then?"

"You must still further allow that a person with a good heart, and upon whom you had a great claim, would all the more have remained to protect you."

"What are you driving at, Harry, with your supposition?" she said, her cheek growing a little paler as a suspicion of the truth flashed upon her.

"Well, Marie, you mustn't be agitated, and I hope you will not be angry; but I ask you how, as he has a good heart, and you have claims upon him, could you expect Victor de Gisons to run away like a coward and leave you here?"

Marie had risen to her feet and gazed at him with frightened eyes.

"What, is it about him that you deceived me! Is it true that he did not go away? Has anything happened to him? Oh, Harry, do not say he is dead!"

"He is not dead, Marie, but he has been very, very ill. He was with me at La Force on that terrible night, and saw his father brought out to be murdered. The shock nearly killed him. He has had brain fever, and has been at death's door. At present he is mending, but very, very slowly. He knows no one, not even me, but I trust that your voice and your presence will do wonders for him."

"Where is he, Harry?" Marie said as she stood with clasped hands, and a face from which every vestige of colour had flown. "Take me to him at once."

"He is in the house, Marie; that is why I have brought you here. These good people have nursed and concealed him for five months."

Marie made a movement towards the door.

"Wait, Marie, you cannot go to him till you compose yourself. It is all-important that you should speak to him, when you see him, in your natural voice, and you must prepare yourself for a shock. He is at present a mere wreck, so changed that you will hardly know him."

"You are telling me the truth, Harry? You are not hiding from me that he is dying?"

"No, dear; I believe, on my honour, that he is out of danger now, and that he is progressing. It is his mind more than his body that needs curing. It may be a long and difficult task, Marie, before he is himself again; but I believe that with your care and companionship he will get round in time, but it may be months before that."

"Time is nothing," Marie said. "But what about the girls?"

"They must still be under my charge, Marie. I shall start with them in a day or two and try to make for the sea-shore, and then across to England. Suspicions have been aroused; they have already been denounced, and may be arrested at any time. Therefore it is absolutely necessary that they should fly at once; but I thought that you would consider it your first duty to stay with Victor, seeing that to him your presence is everything, while you could do nothing to assist your sisters, and indeed the fewer of us there are the better."

"Certainly it is my duty," Marie said firmly.

"You will be perfectly safe here under the care of Jacques and his wife. They have already given out to their neighbours that Victor's fiance is coming to help nurse him, and even if by any possibility a suspicion of your real position arises, you have Robespierre's pardon as a protection. This state of things cannot last for ever; a reaction must come; and then if Victor is cured, you will be able to escape together to England."

"Leave me a few minutes by myself, Harry. All this has come so suddenly upon me that I feel bewildered."

"Certainly," Harry said. "It is best that you should think things over a little. No wonder you feel bewildered and shaken with all the trials you have gone through."

Marie went to her room and returned in a quarter of an hour.

"I am ready now," she said, and by the calm and tranquil expression of her face Harry felt that she could be trusted to see Victor.

"I have a feeling," she went on, "that everything will come right in the end. I have been saved almost by a miracle, and I cannot but feel that my life has been spared in order that I might take my place here. As to the girls, it was a shock at first when you told me that fresh danger threatened them, and that I should not be able to share their perils upon their journey; but I could not have aided them, and God has marked out my place here. No, Harry, God has protected me so far, and will aid me still. Now I am ready for whatever may betide."

"One moment before you enter, Marie. You are prepared, I know, to see a great change in Victor, but nevertheless you cannot but be shocked at first. Do not go up to him or attract his attention till you have overcome this and are able to speak to him in your natural voice. I think a great deal depends upon the first impression you make on his brain. Your voice has a good deal changed in the last six months; it would be strange if it had not; but I want you to try and speak to him in the bright cheerful tone he was accustomed to hear."

Marie nodded. "One moment," she said, as she brushed aside the tears which filled her eyes, drew herself up with a little gesture that reminded Harry of old times, and then with a swift step passed through the door into Victor's room. Whatever she felt at the sight of the wasted figure lying listlessly with half-closed eyes on the couch, it only showed itself by a swift expression of pain which passed for a moment across her face and then was gone.

"Victor," she said in her clear ringing voice, "Victor, my well beloved, I am come to you." The effect upon Victor was instantaneous. He opened his eyes with a start, half rose from his couch and held out his arms towards her.

"Marie," he said in a faint voice, "you have come at last. I have wanted you so much."

Then, as Marie advanced to him, and kneeling by his side, clasped him in her arms, Elise and Harry stole quietly from the room. It was nearly an hour before Marie came out. There was a soft glow of happiness on her face, though her cheeks were pale.

"Not yet!" she said, as she swept past them into her own room.

In a few minutes she reappeared.

"Pardon me," she said, holding out her hands to Harry and Elise, "but I had to thank the good God first. Victor is quite sensible now, but oh, so weak! He remembers nothing of the past, but seems to think he is still in Burgundy, and has somehow had an illness. Then he spoke of the duke and my dear father and mother as being still alive, and that he hoped they would let me come to him now. I told him that all should be as he wished as soon as he got stronger, but that he must not think of anything now, and that I would nurse him, and all would be well. He seemed puzzled about my dress"—for Marie had already put on the simple attire which had been prepared for her—"but I told him that it was fit for a sick-room, and he seemed satisfied. He has just dozed off to sleep, and I will go in and sit with him now till he wakes."

"When he does, mademoiselle, I will have some broth and a glass of good burgundy ready for him," Elise said.

"Thank you; but please call me Marie in future. There are no mesdemoiselles in France now, and I shall call you Elise instead of Madame. And Harry, would you mind telling the girls that I will meet them to-morrow instead of this evening. I long to see them, oh so, so much; but I should not like to leave him for a moment now. I fear so that his memory might go again if he were to wake and miss me."

"I was going to propose it myself, Marie," Harry said. "It is all-important to avoid any agitation now. To-morrow, I hope, it will be safer, and the doctor will give him a sleeping-draught, so that he shall not wake while you are away. But, Marie, remember it will be a farewell visit, for I dare not let them stay more than another day. They may be denounced again at any hour, for the man who wrote to Robespierre, if he finds that nothing comes of it, may go to the local committee, and they will not lose an hour, you may be sure."

"I must see them this evening, then," Marie said hurriedly. "The doctor will be here, you say, soon. Victor must have his sleeping-draught this afternoon instead of to-morrow. They must go at once. I should never forgive myself if, by putting off our parting for twenty-four hours, I caused them to fall into the hands of these wretches; so please hurry on all the arrangements so that they may leave the first thing to-morrow morning."

"It will be best," Harry said, "if you will do it, Marie. I own that I am in a fever of apprehension. I will go there at once to tell them that all must be in readiness by to-night. They will be glad indeed to hear that your presence has done such wonders for Victor. They will be able to leave you with a better heart if they feel that your stay here is likely to bring health to him and happiness to both of you."

"A week since," Marie said, "it did not seem to me that I could ever be happy again; but though everything is still very dark, the clouds seem lifting."

The girls were greatly rejoiced when they heard the good news that Victor had recognized Marie, and that Harry had now hopes that he would do well.

"And now we must talk about ourselves," Harry said. "We must not lose another hour. Now, Louise, you must take part in our council. We have everything to settle, and only a few hours to do it in. I should like, if possible, that we should not come back here this evening after you have once left the house. The man who denounced you will expect that something would be done to-day, and when he sees that nothing has come of his letter he may go this evening to the local committee, and they would send men at once to arrest you. No doubt he only wrote to Robespierre first, thinking he would get credit and perhaps a post of some sort for his vigilance in the cause. But if Louise thinks that it cannot possibly be managed, I will write a letter at once to him in Robespierre's name, saying that his letter has been noted and your movements will be closely watched, and thanking him for his zeal in the public service."

"No, I think we are ready," Jeanne said. "Of course we have been talking it over for weeks, and agreed it was better to be in readiness whenever you told us it was time to go. Louise will tell you all about it."

"The disguises are all ready, Monsieur Sandwith; and yesterday when you said that my dear mademoiselle could not go with them, I settled, if you do not see any objection, to go with the dear children."

"I should be very glad," Harry said eagerly, for although he had seen no other way out of it, the difficulties and inconveniences of a journey alone with Jeanne and Virginie had been continually on his mind. The idea of taking the old woman with them had never occurred to him, but now he hailed it as a most welcome solution of the difficulty.

"That will be a thousand times better in every way, for with you with us it would excite far less remark than three young people travelling alone. But I fear, Louise, that the hardships we may have to undergo will be great."

"It matters little," the old woman said. "I nursed their mother, and have for years lived on her bounty; and gladly now will I give what little remains to me of life in the service of her dear children. I know that everything is turned topsy-turvy in our poor country at present, but as long as I have life in my body I will not let my dear mistress's children be, for weeks perhaps, wandering about with only a young gentleman to protect them, and Mademoiselle Jeanne almost a woman too."

"Yes, it is better in every way," Harry said. "I felt that it would be a strange position, but it seemed that it could not be helped; however, your offer gets us out of the embarrassment. So your disguises are ready?"

"Yes, monsieur," Louise said; "I have a boy's suit for Mademoiselle Virginie. She did not like it at first, but I thought that if mademoiselle went with you it would be strange to have three girls journeying under the charge of one young man."

"I think it a very good plan, Louise, but you must get out of the way of calling me monsieur or else it will slip out before people. Now what I propose is, that when we get fairly away we shall buy a horse and cart, for with you with us we can go forward more boldly than if we were alone.

"You will be grandmother, and we shall be travelling from a farm near Etampes to visit your daughter, who is married to a farmer near Nantes. That will be a likely story now, and we can always make a detour to avoid towns. It will be dark when you go out this evening, so you can take three bundles of clothes with you. The only thing is about to-night. The weather is bitterly cold, and it is out of the question that you should stop out all night, and yet we could not ask for a lodging close to Paris.

"Oh, I see now! The best plan will be for you all to sleep to-night at Jacques'. The good people will manage somehow; then we can start early in the morning. Yes, and in that way it will not be necessary for Marie to go out and leave Victor."

"That will certainly be the best way," Louise said. "I have been wondering ever since you said we must start this evening, what would become of us to-night. When we once get fairly away from Paris it will be easier, for the country people are kind-hearted, and I think we shall always be able to get shelter for the night; but just outside Paris it would be different. Then where shall we meet this evening?"

"I will be at the end of the street," Harry said. "It is quite dark by five, so do you start a quarter of an hour later; hide your bundles under your cloaks, for if that fellow is on the look-out he might follow you if he thought you were leaving. Draw your blinds up when you leave, Louise, so that the room will look as usual, and then it may be some time before anyone suspects that you have left; and if I were you I would mention to some of your neighbours this afternoon that you have had a letter from your friends in Burgundy, and are going away soon with your nieces to stay with them for a while. You had better pay your rent for three months in advance, and tell your landlord the same thing; saying that you may go suddenly anytime, as a compere who is in Paris, and is also going back, is going to take charge of you on the journey, and that he may call for you at any time. Thus when he finds that you have left, your absence will be accounted for; not that it makes much difference, for I hope that when you have seen the girls safely to England you will make your home with them there."

"Yes, I shall never come back here," the old woman said, "never, even if I could. Paris is hateful to me now, and I have no reason for ever wanting to come back."

"In that case," Harry said smiling, "we may as well save the three months' rent."

"Oh, how I long to be in England," Virginie exclaimed, "and to see dear Ernest and Jules again! How anxious they must be about us, not having heard of us all this long time! How shall we know where to find them?"

"You forget, Virginie," Jeanne said, "it was arranged they should go to Harry's father when they got to England, and he will know where they are living; there is sure to be no mistake about that, is there, Harry?"

"None at all," Harry said. "You may rely upon it that directly you get to my father you will hear where your brothers are. And now I will go and tell Marie that there is no occasion for Victor to take a sleeping draught."

Marie was delighted when she heard that she was going to have her sisters with her for the whole evening and night, and Elise busied herself with preparations for the accommodation of her guests. Harry then went back to his attic, made his clothes into a bundle, and took up the bag of money from its hiding-place under a board and placed it in his pocket.

He had, since he had been with Robespierre, gradually changed the silver for gold in order to make it more convenient to carry, and it was now of comparatively little weight, although he had drawn but slightly upon it, except for the payment of the bribe promised to the warder. His pistols were also hidden under his blouse.

He went down stairs and waited the return of Robespierre.

"Citizen," he said when he entered, "circumstances have occurred which render it necessary for me to travel down to Nantes to escort a young girl, a boy, and an old woman to that town; they cannot travel alone in such times as these, and they have a claim upon me which I cannot ignore."

"Surely, friend Sandwith," Robespierre said, "the affairs of France are of more importance than private matters like these."

"Assuredly they are, citizen; but I cannot flatter myself that the affairs of France will be in any way injured by my temporary absence. My duty in this matter is clear to me, and I can only regret that my temporary absence may put you to some inconvenience. But I have a double favour to ask you: the one is to spare me for a time; the second, that you will give me papers recommending me, and those travelling with me, to the authorities of the towns through which we shall pass. In these times, when the enemies of the state are travelling throughout France seeking to corrupt the minds of the people, it is necessary to have papers showing that one is a good citizen."

"But I have no authority," Robespierre said. "I am neither a minister nor a ruler."

"You are not a minister, citizen, but you are assuredly a ruler. It is to you men look more than to any other. Danton is too headstrong and violent. You alone combine fearlessness in the cause of France with that wisdom and moderation which are, above all things, necessary in guiding the state through its dangers."

Robespierre's vanity was so inordinate that he accepted the compliment as his due, though he waved his hand with an air of deprecation.

"Therefore, citizen," Harry went on, "a letter from you would be more powerful than an order from another."

"But these persons who travel with you, citizen—how am I to be sure they are not enemies of France?"

"France is not to be shaken," Harry said, smiling, "by the efforts of an old woman of seventy and a young boy and girl; but I can assure you that they are no enemies of France, but simple inoffensive people who have been frightened by the commotion in Paris, and long to return to the country life to which they are accustomed. Come, citizen, you refused the first boon which I asked you, and, methinks, cannot hesitate at granting one who has deserved well of you this slight favour."

"You are right," Robespierre said. "I cannot refuse you, even if the persons who accompany you belong to the class of suspects, of which, mind, I know nothing, though I may have my suspicions. I have not forgotten, you know, that you asked for the life of the daughter of the ci-devant Marquis de St. Caux; and for aught I know these children may be of the same breed. But I will not ask you. Did I know it, not even the obligation I am under to you would you induce me to do what you ask; for although as children they can do no harm, they might do so were they allowed to grow up hating France. All children of suspects are, as you know, ordered to be placed in the state schools, in order that they may there learn to love the people of France and to grow up worthy citizens. Now, how shall I word it?" he said, taking up a pen; and Harry dictated:

"I hereby recommend Citizen Henri Sandwith, age 19, who has been acting as my confidential secretary, to all public authorities, together with Citoyenne Moulin and her two grandchildren, with whom he is travelling."

To this Robespierre signed his name and handed the paper to Harry.

"How long will you be before you return?" he asked.

"I cannot say exactly," Harry replied; "as after I have seen them to their destination I may stop with them for a few weeks."

Robespierre nodded and held out his hand.

"I shall be glad to have you with me again, for I have conceived a strong friendship for you, and think none the worse of you for your showing your gratitude to the family in whom you are interested."

Harry then went into the kitchen, where Robespierre's sister was preparing the next meal, and said good-bye to her.

She had taken a fancy to her brother's young secretary, and expressed a hope that his absence would be but a short one, telling him that Robespierre had said only the day before how much work he had saved him, and that he was determined to push his fortunes to the utmost.

Having thus paved the way for an appeal to Robespierre should he find himself in difficulties on the road, Harry proceeded to Jacques' house and waited there until it was time to go up to meet Louise and the girls.

Victor did not wake until the afternoon. The doctor had called as usual, but had not roused him. He had been told what had taken place, and had held out hope to Marie that Victor's improvement would be permanent, and that he would now make steady progress towards recovery.

At the appointed hour Harry was at his post to meet the party. They came along within a few minutes of the time named, but instead of stopping to greet him they walked straight on, Jeanne saying as she passed him:

"I think we are followed."

Harry at once drew back and allowed them to go fifty yards on before he moved after them. As there were many people about, it was some little time before he could verify Jeanne's suspicions; then he noticed that a man, walking a short distance ahead of him, followed each turning that the others took.

Harry waited until they were in a quiet street, and then quickened his pace until he was close behind the man. Then he drew one of his pistols, and, springing forward, struck him a heavy blow on the head with its butt. He fell forward on his face without a cry; and Harry, satisfied that he had stunned him, ran on and overtook the others, and, turning down the first street they came to, was assured that they were safe from pursuit.

"We had noticed a man lounging against the house opposite all the afternoon," Jeanne said, "and came to the conclusion that he must be watching us; so we looked out for him when we came out, and noticed that as soon as we went on he began to walk that way too. So I told Louise to walk straight on without stopping when we came up to you. I was sure you would manage somehow to get rid of him."

Harry laughed.

"I fancy he will spend to-morrow in bed instead of lounging about. Perhaps it will teach him to mind his own business in future and to leave other people alone. I am very glad that he did follow you; for I felt that I owed him one, and was sorry to leave Paris without paying my debt. Now I think we are pretty well square."

The meeting between the sisters was indeed a happy one. They fell on each other's necks, and for some time scarce a word was spoken; then they stood a little apart and had a long look at each other.

"You are changed, Marie dear," Jeanne said; "you look pale, but you look, too, softer and prettier than you used to."

"All my airs and graces have been rubbed off," Marie said with a slight smile. "I have learned so much, Jeanne, and have been where noble blood has been the reverse of a recommendation. You are changed too—the six months have altered you. Your gouvernante would not call you a wild girl now. You are quite a woman.

"We have suffered too, Marie," Jeanne said as tears came to her eyes at the thought of the changes and losses of the last few months. "We have thought of you night and day; but Louise has been very good to us, and as for Harry, we owe everything to him. He has always been so hopeful and strong, and has cheered us up with promises that he would bring you to us some day."

Marie smiled.

"You are right, Jeanne. I used to laugh a little, you know, at your belief in your hero, and little thought that the time would come when I should trust him as implicitly as you do. You have a right to be proud of him, Jeanne. What thought and devotion and courage he has shown for us! And do you know, he saved Victor too. Jacques has told me all about it—how Victor saw his father brought out to be murdered; and how, half-mad, he was springing out to stand beside him, when Harry as quick as thought knocked him down before he could betray himself; and then Jacques, who was standing by saw it, helped him carry him here. Oh, my dear, how much we owe him!

"And now, Virginie," she said, turning to the youngest, "I must have a good look at you, little one—but no, I mustn't call you little one any longer, for you are already almost as tall as I am. My child, how you have been growing, and you look so well! Louise must have been feeding you up. Ah, Louise, how much we all owe to you too! And I hear you are going to leave your comfortable home and take care of the girls on their journey. It was such a comfort to me when Harry told me!"

"I could not let them go alone, mademoiselle," the old woman said simply; "it was only my duty. Besides, what should I do in Paris with all my children in England?"

"Now, my dears, take your things off," Marie said. "I will just run in and see how Victor is getting on. Harry went straight in to him, and I want to know whether Victor recognized him."

CHAPTER XII

Nantes

Harry was very pleased to see a look of recognition on Victor's face as he came up to the side of his couch.

"Well, Victor," he said cheerfully, "I am glad to see you looking more yourself again."

Victor nodded assent, and his hand feebly returned the pressure of Harry's.

"I can't understand it," he said after a pause. "I seem to be in a dream; but it is true Marie is here, isn't it?"

"Oh yes! She is chatting now with her sisters, Jeanne and Virginie, you know."

"And why am I here?" Victor asked, looking round the room. "Marie tells me not to ask questions."

"No. There will be plenty of time for that afterwards, Victor. It is all simple enough. You were out with me, and there was an accident, and you got hurt. So I and a workman who was passing carried you into his house, and he and his wife have been taking care of you. You have been very ill, but you are getting on better now. Marie has come to nurse you, and she won't leave you until you are quite well. Now, I think that's enough for you, and the doctor would be very angry if he knew I had told you so much; because he said you were not to bother yourself about things at all, but just to sleep as much as you can, and eat as much as you can, and listen to Marie talking and reading to you, and not trouble your brain in any way, because it's your brain that has gone wrong, and any thinking will be very bad for it."

This explanation seemed satisfactory to Victor, who soon after dozed off to sleep, and Harry joined the party in Marie's sitting-room.

"Oh, if I could but keep them here with me, Harry, what a comfort it would be!"

"I know that it would, Marie; but it is too dangerous. You know they were denounced at Louise Moulin's. Already there is risk enough in you and Victor being here. The search for Royalists does not relax, indeed it seems to become more and more keen every day. Victor's extreme illness is your best safeguard. The neighbours have heard that Jacques has had a fellow-workman dangerously ill for some long time, and Victor can no longer be looked upon as a stranger to be suspected, while your coming here to help nurse him will seem so natural a step that it will excite no comment. But any fresh addition of numbers would be sure to give rise to talk, and you would have a commissary of the Commune here in no time to make inquiries, and to ask for your papers of domicile."

"Yes, I know that it would be too dangerous to risk," Marie agreed; "but I tremble at the thought of their journey."

"I have every hope that we shall get through safely," Harry said. "I have some good news I have not yet told you. I have received a paper from Robespierre stating that I have been his secretary, and recommending us all to the authorities, so that we can dispense with the ordinary papers which they would otherwise ask for."

"That is good news, indeed, Harry," Marie said. "That relieves me of half my anxiety. Once on the sea-coast it will be comparatively easy to get a passage to England. My dear Harry, you surprise me more every day, and I am ashamed to think that when our dear father and mother first told me that they had accepted your noble offer to look after us, I was inclined in my heart to think that such protection would be of little use. You see I confess, Harry; and you know that is half-way to forgiveness."

"There is nothing either to confess or forgive," Harry said with a smile. "It was perfectly natural for you to think that a lad of eighteen was a slender reed to lean on in the time of trouble and danger, and that it was only by a lucky accident—for saving Robespierre's life was but an accident—that I have been enabled to be of use to you; and that I have now a pass which will enable me to take your sisters with comparative safety as far as Nantes. Had it not been for that I could have done little indeed to aid you."

"You must not say so, Harry. You are too modest. Besides, was it not your quickness that saved Victor? No, we owe you everything, and disclaimers are only thrown away. As for me, I feel quite jealous of Jeanne's superior perspicacity, for she trusted you absolutely from the first."

"It has nothing to do with perspicacity," Jeanne said. "Harry saved my life from that dreadful dog, and after that I knew if there was danger he would be able to get us out of it. That is, if it were possible for anyone to do so."

"I hope I shall be able to justify your trust, Jeanne, and arrive safely with you at my father's house. I can promise you the warmest of welcomes from my mother and sisters. I fear they must long since have given me up for dead. I shall be like a shipwrecked mariner who has been cast upon an island and given up as lost. But my father always used to say, that if I was a first-rate hand at getting into scrapes, I was equally good at getting out of them again; and I don't think they will have quite despaired of seeing me again, especially as they know, by the last letters I sent them, that you all said I could speak French well enough to pass anywhere as a native."

"How surprised they will be at your arriving with two girls and Louise!" Virginie said.

"They will be pleased more than surprised," Harry replied. "I have written so much about you in my letters that the girls and my mother will be delighted to see you."

"Besides," Jeanne added, "the boys will have told them you are waiting behind with us, so they will not be so surprised as they would otherwise have been. But it will be funny, arriving among people who don't speak a word of our language."

"You will soon be at home with them," said Harry reassuringly. "Jenny and Kate are just about your ages, and I expect they will have grown so I shall hardly know them. It is nearly three years now since I left them, and I have to look at you to assure myself that Jenny will have grown almost into a young woman. Now I shall go out for a bit, and leave you to chat together.

"You need not fidget about Victor, Marie. Elise is with him, and will come and let you know if he wakes; but I hope that he has gone off fairly to sleep for the night. He knew me, and I think I have put his mind at rest a little as to how he came here. I have told him it was an accident in the street, and that we brought him in here, and he has been too ill since to be moved. I don't think he will ask any more questions. If I were you I would, while nursing, resume the dress you came here in. It will be less puzzling to him than the one you are wearing now."

The little party started the next morning at day-light, and at the very first village they came to, found how strict was the watch upon persons leaving Paris, and had reason to congratulate themselves upon the possession of Robespierre's safe-conduct. No sooner had they sat down in the village cabaret to breakfast than an official with a red scarf presented himself, and asked them who they were and where they were going. The production of the document at once satisfied him; and, indeed, he immediately addressed the young man in somewhat shabby garments, who had the honour of being secretary to the great man, in tones of the greatest respect.

Virginie at present was shy and awkward in her attire as a boy, and indeed had there been time the night before to procure a disguise for her as a girl it would have been done, although Harry's opinion that it would attract less attention for her to travel as a boy was unchanged; but he would have given way had it been possible to make the change. As any delay, however, would certainly be dangerous, the original plan was adhered to.

Marie had cut her sister's hair short, and no one would have suspected from her appearance that Virginie was not what she seemed, a good-looking boy of some thirteen years old. With their bundles in their hands they trudged along the road, and stopped for the night at a village about twelve miles out of Paris. After having again satisfied the authorities by the production of the pass, Harry made inquiries, and the next morning went two miles away to a farm-house, where there was, he heard, a cart and horse to be disposed of.

After much haggling over terms—since to give the sum that was first asked would have excited surprise, and perhaps suspicion—Harry became the possessor of the horse and cart, drove triumphantly back to the village, and having stowed Louise and the two girls on some straw in the bottom of the cart, proceeded on the journey.

They met with no adventure whatever on the journey to Nantes, which was performed in ten days. The weather was bitterly cold. Although it was now well on in March the snow lay deep on the ground; but the girls were well wrapped up, and the cart was filled with straw, which helped to keep them warm. Harry walked for the most part by the side of the horse's head, for they could only proceed at foot-pace; but he sometimes climbed up and took the reins, the better to chat with the girls and keep up their spirits. There was no occasion for this in the case of Jeanne, but Virginie often gave way and cried bitterly, and the old nurse suffered greatly from the cold in spite of her warm wraps.

On arriving at Nantes Harry proceeded first to the Maine, and on producing Robespierre's document received a permit to lodge in the town. He then looked for apartments in the neighbourhood of the river, and when he had obtained them disposed of the horse and cart. The statement that he was Robespierre's secretary at once secured for him much attention from the authorities, and he was invited to become a member of the Revolutionary Committee during his stay in the town, in order that he might see for himself with what zeal the instructions received from Paris for the extermination of the Royalists were being carried out.

This offer he accepted, as it would enable him to obtain information of all that was going on. Had it not been for this he would gladly have declined the honour, for his feelings were daily harrowed by arrests and massacres which he was powerless to prevent, for he did not venture to raise his voice on the side of mercy, for had he done so, it would have been certain to excite suspicion. He found that, horrible as were the atrocities committed in Paris, they were even surpassed by those which were enacted in the provinces, and that in Nantes in particular a terrible persecution was raging under the direction of Carrier, who had been sent down from Paris as commissioner from the Commune there.

Harry's next object was to make the acquaintance of some of the fishermen, and to find out what vessels were engaged in smuggling goods across to England; for it was in one of these alone that he could hope to cross the Channel. This, however, he found much more difficult than he had expected.

The terror was universal. The news of the execution of the king had heightened the dismay. Massacres were going on all over France. The lowest ruffians in all the great towns were now their masters, and under pretended accusations were wreaking their hate upon the respectable inhabitants. Private enmities were wiped out in blood. None were too high or too low to be denounced as Royalists, and denunciation was followed as a matter of course by a mock trial and execution. Every man distrusted his neighbour, and fear caused those who most loathed and hated the existing regime to be loudest in their advocacy of it. There were spies everywhere—men who received blood-money for every victim they denounced.

Thus, then, Harry's efforts to make acquaintances among the sailors met with very slight success. He was a stranger, and that was sufficient to cause distrust, and ere long it became whispered that he had come from Paris with special authority to hasten on the work of extirpation of the enemies of the state. Soon, therefore, Harry perceived that as he moved along the quay little groups of sailors and fishermen talking together broke up at his approach, the men sauntering off to the wine-shops, and any he accosted replied civilly indeed, but with embarrassment and restraint; and although any questions of a general character were answered, a profound ignorance was manifested upon the subject upon which he wished to gain information. The sailors all seemed to know that occasionally cargoes of spirits were run from the river to England, but none could name any vessel engaged in the trade. Harry soon perceived that he was regarded with absolute hostility, and one day one of the sailors said to him quietly:

"Citizen, I am a good sans-culotte, and I warn you, you had best not come down the river after dark, for there is a strong feeling against you; and unless you would like your body to be fished out of the river with half a dozen knife-holes in it, you will take my advice."

Harry began to feel almost crushed under his responsibilities. His attendance at the Revolutionary Committee tried him greatly. He made no progress whatever in his efforts to obtain a passage; and to add to his trouble the old nurse, who had been much exhausted by the change from her usual habits, and the inclemency of the weather on her journey, instead of gaining strength appeared to be rapidly losing it, and was forced to take to her bed. The terrible events in Paris, and the long strain of anxiety as to the safety of the girls and the fate of Marie, had completely exhausted her strength, and the last six months had aged her as many years. Harry tried hard to keep up his appearance of hopefulness, and to cheer the girls; but Jeanne's quick eye speedily perceived the change in him.

"You are wearing yourself out, Harry," she said one evening as they were sitting by the fire, while Virginie was tending Louise in the next room. "I can see it in your face. It is of no use your trying to deceive me. You tell us every day that you hope soon to get hold of the captain of a boat sailing for England; but I know that in reality you are making no progress. All those months when we were hoping to get Marie out of prison—though it seemed next to impossible—you told us not to despair, and I knew you did not despair yourself; but now it is different. I am sure that you do in your heart almost give up hope. Why don't you trust me, Harry? I may not be able to do much, but I might try to cheer you. You have been comforting us all this time. Surely it is time I took my turn. I am not a child now."

"I feel like one just at present," Harry said unsteadily with quivering lips. "I feel sometimes as if—as we used to say at school—I could cry for twopence. I know, Jeanne, I can trust you, and it isn't because I doubted your courage that I have not told you exactly how things are going on, but because it is entirely upon you now that Louise and Virginie have to depend, and I do not wish to put any more weight on your shoulders; but it will be a relief to me to tell you exactly how we stand."

Harry then told her how completely he had failed with the sailors, and how an actual feeling of hostility against him had arisen.

"I think I could have stood that, Jeanne; but it is that terrible committee that tries me. It is so awful hearing these fiends marking out their victims and exulting over their murder, that at times I feel tempted to throw myself upon some of them and strangle them."

"It must be dreadful, Harry," Jeanne said soothingly. "Will it not be possible for you to give out that you are ill, and so absent yourself for a time from their meetings? I am sure you look ill—ill enough for anything. As to the sailors, do not let that worry you. Even if you could hear of a ship at present it would be of no use. I couldn't leave Louise; she seems to me to be getting worse and worse, and the doctor you called in three days ago thinks so too. I can see it by his face. I think he is a good man. The woman whose sick child I sat up with last night tells me the poor all love him. I am sure he guesses that we are not what we seem. He said this morning to me:

"' I cannot do much for your grandmother. It is a general break-up. I have many cases like it of old people and women upon whom the anxiety of the times has told. Do not worry yourself with watching, child. She will sleep quietly, and will not need attendance. If you don't mind I shall have you on my hands. Anxiety affects the young as well as the old.'

"At anyrate, you see, we cannot think of leaving here at present. Louise has risked everything for us. It is quite impossible for us to leave her now, so do not let that worry you. We are all in God's hands, Harry, and we must wait patiently what He may send us."

"We will wait patiently," Harry said. "I feel better now, Jeanne, and you shall not see me give way again. What has been worrying me most is the thought that it would have been wiser to have carried out some other plan—to have put you and Virginie, for instance, in some farmhouse not far from Paris, and for you to have waited there till the storm blew over."

"You must never think that, Harry," Jeanne said earnestly. "You know we all talked it over dozens of times, Louise and all of us, and we agreed that this was our best chance, and Marie when she came out quite thought so too. So, whatever comes, you must not blame yourself in the slightest. Wherever we were we were in danger, and might have been denounced."

"I arranged it all, Jeanne. I have the responsibility of your being here."

"And to an equal extent you would have had the responsibility of our being anywhere else. So it is of no use letting that trouble you. Now, as to the sailors, you know I have made the acquaintance of some of the women in our street. Some of them are sailors' wives, and possibly through them I may be able to hear about ships. At anyrate I could try."

"Perhaps you could, Jeanne; but be very, very careful what questions you put, or you might be betrayed."

"I don't think there is much fear of that, Harry. The women are more outspoken than the men. Some of them are with what they call the people; but it is clear that others are quite the other way. You see trade has been almost stopped, and there is great suffering among the sailors and their families. Of course I have been very careful not to seem to have more money than other people; but I have been able to make soups and things—I have learned to be quite a cook from seeing Louise at work—and I take them to those that are very poor, especially if they have children ill, and I think I have won some of their hearts."

"You win everyone's heart who comes near you, Jeanne, I think," Harry said earnestly.

Jeanne flushed a rosy red, but said with a laugh:

"Now, Harry, you are turning flatterer. We are not at the chateau now, sir, so your pretty speeches are quite thrown away; and now I shall go and take Virginie's place and send her in to you."

And so another month went by, and then the old nurse quietly passed away. She was buried, to the girls' great grief, without any religious ceremony, for the priests were all in hiding or had been murdered, and France had solemnly renounced God and placed Reason on His throne.

In the meantime Jeanne had been steadily carrying on her work among her poorer neighbours, sitting up at night with sick children, and supplying food to starving little ones, saying quietly in reply to the words of gratitude of the women:

"My grandmother has laid by savings during her long years of service. She will not want it long, and we are old enough to work for ourselves; besides, our brother Henri will take care of us. So we are glad to be able to help those who need it."

While she worked she kept her ears open, and from the talk of the women learned that the husbands of one or two of them were employed in vessels engaged in carrying on smuggling operations with England. A few days after the death of Louise one of these women, whose child Jeanne had helped to nurse through a fever and had brought round by keeping it well supplied with good food, exclaimed:

"Oh, how much we owe you, mademoiselle, for your goodness!"

"You must not call me mademoiselle," Jeanne said, shaking her head. "It would do you harm and me too if it were heard."

"It comes so natural," the woman said with a sigh. "I was in service once in a good family before I married Adolphe. But I know that you are not one of those people who say there is no God, because I saw you kneel down and pray by Julie's bed when you thought I was asleep. I expect Adolphe home in a day or two. The poor fellow will be wild with delight when he sees the little one on its feet again. When he went away a fortnight ago he did not expect ever to see her alive again, and it almost broke his heart. But what was he to do? There are so many men out of work that if he had not sailed in the lugger there would have been scores to take his place, and he might not perhaps have been taken on again."

"He has been to England, has he not?" Jeanne asked.

"Yes; the lugger carries silks and brandy. It is a dangerous trade, for the Channel is swarming with English cruisers. But what is he to do? One must live."

"Is your husband in favour of the new state of things?" Jeanne asked.

"Not in his heart, mademoiselle, any more than I am, but he holds his tongue. Most of the sailors in the port hate these murdering tyrants of ours; but what can we do?"

"Well, Marthe, I am sure I can trust you, and your husband can help me if he will."

"Surely you can trust me," the woman said. "I would lay down my life for you, and I know Adolphe would do so too when he knows what you have done for us."

"Well, then, Marthe, I and my sister and my brother Henri are anxious to be taken to England. We are ready to pay well for a passage, but we have not known how to set about it."

"I thought it might be that," Marthe said quietly; "for anyone who knows the ways of gentlefolk, as I do, could see with half an eye that you are not one of us. But they say, mademoiselle, that your brother is a friend of Robespierre, and that he is one of the committee here."

"He is only pretending, Marthe, in order that no suspicion should fall upon us. But he finds that the sailors distrust him, and he cannot get to speak to them about taking a passage, so I thought I would speak to you, and you can tell me when a boat is sailing and who is her captain."

"Adolphe will manage all that for you, never fear," the woman said. "I know that many a poor soul has been hidden away on board the smuggler's craft and got safely out of the country; but of course it's a risk, for it is death to assist any of the suspects. Still the sailors are ready to run the risk, and indeed they haven't much fear of the consequences if they are caught, for the sailor population here are very strong, and they would not stand quietly by and see some of their own class treated as if they had done some great crime merely because they were earning a few pounds by running passengers across to England. Why they have done it from father to son as far as they can recollect, for there has never been a time yet when there were not people who wanted to pass from France to England and from England to France without asking the leave of the authorities. I think it can be managed, mademoiselle, especially, as you say, you can afford to pay, for if one won't take you, another will. Trade is so bad that there are scores of men would start in their fishing-boats for a voyage across the Channel in the hope of getting food for their wives and families."

"I was sure it was so, Marthe, but it was so difficult to set about it. Everyone is afraid of spies, and it needs some one to warrant that we are not trying to draw them into a snare, before anyone will listen. If your husband will but take the matter up, I have no doubt it can be managed."

"Set your mind at ease; the thing is as good as done. I tell you there are scores of men ready to undertake the job when they know it is a straightforward one."

"That is good news indeed, Jeanne," Harry said, when the girl told him of the conversation. "That does seem a way out of our difficulties. I felt sure you would be able to manage it, sooner or later, among the poor people you have been so good to. Hurry it on as much as you can, Jeanne. I feel that our position is getting more and more dangerous. I am afraid I do not play my part sufficiently well. I am not forward enough in their violent councils. I cannot bring myself to vote for proposals for massacre when there is any division among them. I fear that some have suspicions. I have been asked questions lately as to why I am staying here, and why I have come. I have been thinking for the last few days whether it would not be better for us to make our way down to the mouth of the river and try and bribe some fishermen in the villages there who would not have that feeling against me that the men here have, to take us to sea, or if that could not be managed, to get on board some little fishing-boat at night and sail off by ourselves in the hopes of being picked up by an English cruiser."

Harry indeed had for some days been feeling that danger was thickening round him. He had noticed angry glances cast at him by the more violent of the committee, and had caught sentences expressing doubt whether he had really been Robespierre's secretary. That evening as he came out from the meeting he heard one man say to another:

"I tell you he may have stolen it, and perhaps killed the citizen who bore it. I believe he is a cursed aristocrat. I tell you I shall watch him. He has got some women with him; the maire, who saw the paper, told me so. I shall make it my business to get to the bottom of the affair, and we will make short work with him if we find things are as I believe."

Harry felt, therefore, that the danger was even more urgent than he had expressed it to Jeanne, and he had returned intending to propose immediate flight had not Jeanne been beforehand with her news. Even now he hesitated whether even a day's delay might not ruin them.

"Have you told me all, Harry?" Jeanne asked.

"Not quite all, Jeanne. I was just thinking it over. I fear the danger is even more pressing than I have said;" and he repeated the sentence he had overheard. "Even now," he said, "that fellow may be watching outside or making inquiries about you. He will hear nothing but praise; but that very praise may cause him to doubt still more that you are not what you seem."

"But why can we not run away at once?" Virginie said. "Why should we wait here till they come and take us and carry us away and kill us?"

"That is what I was thinking when I came home, Virginie; but the risk of trying to escape in a fishing-boat by ourselves would be tremendous. You see, although I have gone out sailing sometimes on the river in England, I know very little about it, and although we might be picked up by an English ship, it would be much more likely that we should fall into the hands of one of the French gunboats. So I look upon that as a desperate step, to be taken only at the last moment. And now that Jeanne seems to have arranged a safe plan, I do not like trying such a wild scheme. A week now, and perhaps all might be arranged; but the question is—Have we a week? Have we more than twenty-four hours? What do you think, Jeanne?"

"I do not see what is best to do yet," Jeanne said, looking steadily in the fire. "It is a terrible thing to have to decide; but I see we must decide." She sat for five minutes without speaking, and then taking down her cloak from the peg on which it hung she said; "I will go round to Marthe Pichon again and tell her we are all so anxious for each other, that I don't think we can judge what is really the best. Marthe will see things more clearly and will be able to advise us."

"Yes, that will be the best plan."

It was three-quarters of an hour before she returned.

"I can see you have a plan," Harry said as he saw that there was a look of brightness and hope on Jeanne's face.

"Yes, I have a plan, and a good one; that is to say, Marthe has. I told her all about it, and she said directly that we must be hidden somewhere till her husband can arrange for us to sail. I said, of course, that was what was wanted, but how could it be managed? So she thought it over, and we have quite arranged it. She has a sister who lives in a fishing-village four miles down the river. She will go over there to-morrow and arrange with them to take us, and will get some fisher-girls' dresses for us. She says she is sure her sister will take us, for she was over here yesterday and heard about the child getting better, and Marthe told her all sorts of nonsense about what I had done for it. She thinks we shall be quite safe there, for there are only six or seven houses, and no one but fishermen live there. She proposes that you shall be dressed up in some of her husband's clothes, and shall go out fishing with her sister's husband. What do you think of that, Harry?"