His duties had taken him into many parts of the country. In March he was

at the Hague when the Duke of Marlborough returned to resume command of

the forces, and he did not even feel a pang when, a humble member of the

crowd, he saw the great soldier whose forgetfulness or insincerity had

so woefully disappointed him. He knew the potteries of Delft, and the

cheese-factories of Gouda; he had heard the great organ of Haarlem, and

the sweet carillons of Antwerp, and practised skating for the first time

on a frozen arm of the Y. Finding it difficult to get on without a

knowledge of Dutch, the only language understood by his teamsters and

the country people, he had thrown himself energetically into the study

of the language; and he had, besides, picked up a smattering of everyday

German phrases from one of his men, a German Swiss. After his natural

British diffidence in adventuring on a foreign tongue had worn off, he

delighted to air his new accomplishment with the comely juffrouws whom

he met in the course of his journeys. He dropped into the routine of

the business so rapidly that Mynheer Grootz once told him he was a born

merchant--a compliment which, to his own surprise, did not give the

least shock to his dignity.

His intelligence and energy completely won the old Dutchman's

confidence, and more than once he had been entrusted with the delivery

of supplies to the army in the field. It was not always possible for

the military authorities to furnish convoys for these consignments, and

they were therefore usually accompanied by well-armed men to guard

against the danger of surprise by robbers and freebooters. Many small

bands of outlaws were abroad in Holland and Germany, taking advantage of

the disturbed state of the country to prey upon the inhabitants, under

the pretence of making requisitions for one or other of the contending

forces. These marauders terrorized the remoter districts. Hitherto

Harry had been fortunate in avoiding any danger of this character.

Grootz was as phlegmatic and silent as ever, but he showed in his quiet

way that he was pleased with the lad's unvarying diligence and success.

Harry woke early. The sun was bright but the air cool, and he felt full

of vigour, eager to set off on this the longest expedition he had yet

taken. Mynheer Grootz was a bachelor, and his breakfast-table was

served by a buxom old housekeeper who, after a brief season of jealousy,

had capitulated to Harry's cheerfulness and courtesy. At breakfast the

merchant in his slow, ponderous manner repeated his customary warnings

to Harry to guard against surprise, and to be punctilious about getting

a formal receipt for his supplies from the commissary of the force to

which they were to be delivered.

"Here is de paper," he said, handing it to Harry. "Make him sign it; he

may be a count or marquis or someding of de sort, and I trust none of

dem."

Harry laughed. "Put not your trust in princes" seemed to be the prime

motto of his host's business career.

"Very well, Mynheer," he said.

"And here is a packet I wish you to deliver. Not for de army, dis; no;

it is for a vrient of mine dat live a few miles dis side of Helmund. I

promised her a tulip bulb; dis is it."

He handed to Harry a small packet, on which the address was written.

"The Comtesse de Vaudrey," he read aloud. "That is a French name?"

"Ja! De lady is French, a widow, of a family dat had to leave France

because of the persecutions. She is French, but a vrient alzo. If you

need help, she will give it."

"I hope she is not a very great lady. I have met no lady here higher in

rank than a burgomaster's vrouw, and I thought she rather looked down on

me."

"The comtesse is mine vrient," repeated Grootz in a tone that implied

there was no more to be said.

A few minutes afterwards they left the breakfast-room. At the outer door

ten empty wagons were already waiting with their drivers, and as Harry

prepared to mount to his place on the foremost, Sherebiah came up with

the remains of his breakfast in his hand. Grootz repeated his warnings;

Harry smiled and waved his good-bye to Gretel the housekeeper, who stood

at the door with her hands folded in front of her ample person, and the

line of carts moved off.

The Harry Rochester in charge of the convoy was a different being from

the pale thin youth who had left England four months before. His work

had had the effect of hardening his muscles and developing his physique;

and constant exposure to the air and sun had browned his cheeks and

brightened his eye. But Sherebiah presented a still greater contrast.

From the moment of landing on Dutch soil he had ceased to shave, with

the result that his lips and cheeks and chin were now covered with a

thick growth of stiff brown hair. Harry did not like the change, but

when he asked the reason of this departure from old habit Sherebiah

merely said that he had concluded shaving to be a waste of time. The

reply was hardly satisfactory, but Sherebiah was never communicative

unless he wished to be so, and Harry let the matter drop.

The roads were heavy, and the horses were of the large-limbed variety

that spell endurance rather than pace. Empty as the wagons were, only

twenty miles were made that day, and Harry decided to stay for the night

at the Crown Inn at Breda. The town was garrisoned by four battalions

of infantry, four regiments of cavalry, and a regiment of dragoons, and

it was for these that the supplies were required. Harry sought out the

commissary, and promising to deliver the goods within two days, went for

a stroll through the town, leaving Sherebiah to bespeak supper at the

inn. He roamed through the winding streets, one of which ended with a

windmill; admired the warm-toned old house-fronts; William the Third's

chateau, encircled by the river Merk; and the fine Hervormde Kerk, with

its lofty octagon tower and bulbous spire. On returning to the inn he

was met by Sherebiah in some excitement.

"What med 'ee think, sir? Who'd 'ee believe I ha' seed?"

"Well?"

"John Simmons, sir, large as life."

"Captain Aglionby's man--the man who got a crack on the head on the

Roman road?"

"The very same."

"I have often wondered how he managed to escape from old Nokes the

constable. 'Twas whispered that the captain himself had a hand in it.

I suppose he came to this country for safety."

"Ay, not for riches, so 'twould seem," replied Sherebiah rather

hurriedly. "A' was down at heel, more like a ragged vagrom than the

smart soul as drank his pint at the Berkeley Arms. Mother Joplady

couldn' abide un."

"Did he see you?"

"Not him. Nor I don't want to see un, the mumpen cockney.--Supper's

ready, sir."

Next morning Harry proceeded with his convoy along the Eyndhoven road

and arrived late at his destination, Helmund. Almost the whole of the

following day was occupied in loading his wagons and procuring extra

carts to carry the stores collected by Grootz's client, Peter Kolp. At

his first interview with that "poor friend" of Mynheer Grootz, Harry

made it clear that, as a matter of form, the provisions would be

carefully tested in quality and quantity, with the result that they were

found to be excellent and full weight. It was four o'clock before he

was ready to start for Breda. He followed a different route on his

return journey. Madame de Vaudrey's house, Lindendaal, lay on the upper

road toward Boxtel--a safer road to travel, as a report had come in that

the French had made their appearance near Turnhout, to the south, and

were coming apparently in the direction of Eyndhoven.

Unluckily, the convoy had proceeded only a few miles on its return to

Breda when, as it was crossing the Aa river, one of the horses took

fright and toppled the cart into the water. Fortunately the stream was

sluggish and shallow, but Harry saw that it would take some time to

extricate the wagon from the mud and collect what part of its load was

worth saving. Leaving Piet Brinker in charge of the work, he decided to

push on himself with the remainder of the convoy, deliver the packet he

carried for Madame de Vaudrey, and wait for the rescued wagon to

overtake him. He knew that, with the hospitality universal in Holland,

the countess would not allow him to proceed unrefreshed, and he was in

truth not a little glad of the opportunity of seeing the lady whom

Grootz had so emphatically called his friend. He therefore drove on.

The wagon wheels ploughed deep furrows in the heavy sandy roads, and the

big Dutch horses plodded on steadily but slowly. The road wound by and

by through avenues of elms, pruned of their branches in the Dutch way,

and looking to Harry's English eyes very starved and ugly. At length he

came to a wall on the right that appeared to enclose a park of some

considerable size. A peasant was passing, whom he hailed, asking in

Dutch whether this was the house of Madame de Vaudrey. The man looked

stolidly at him without replying. Sherebiah repeated the question,

using a different phrase. The Hollander answered at once that this

certainly was Lindendaal, the chateau of the French lady. Harry sprang

from his wagon, ordered the drivers to draw up by the side of the road,

which was here parallel with a narrow canal, and entered the gate

accompanied by Sherebiah.

"I'll tell you one thing that puzzles me, Sherry," he remarked, as they

passed up an avenue bounded on both sides by a breast-high balustrade of

stone. "You and I have been in this country the same time, and seen

each as much as the other of the people, and yet you have beat me

altogether in picking up the language, hard as I have worked at it. I

don't understand it."

"Ah well, Master Harry," said Sherebiah, "'tis like that sometimes, so

'tis. You be a scholard, with book larnen and all that; I be, true, a

poor common mortal, but mebbe my ear be quicker 'n some."

"Still, the time is rather short for you to have learnt to speak the

language so well as you do. Your knowledge has grown as quickly as your

beard."

"True now, mebbe so; Samson in the Holy Book growed amazen clever wi'

his locks; but I never thowt afore as how it med be the same in these

days."

Harry laughed.

"It looks very English, doesn't it?" he said, pointing to the house. It

was square, with a veranda painted blue, under which were several

windows opening to the ground. In front was an open semicircular space,

around which were parterres of brilliant flowers; these were separated

from the park and orchard by a prolongation of the balustrades that

lined the drive. There were dormer windows in the roof, and at one

angle rose a kind of belfry surmounted by a weathercock.

"Give me the packet, Sherry; you had better remain at the door while I

go in."

"Ay, or mebbe I med find my lone way to the kitchen?"

"No, no; remain at the door until I have seen Madame de Vaudrey. I

can't have you coquetting with her maids."

Harry went to the door, which stood open, the afternoon having been

warm. A spare, anxious-looking man-servant came in answer to his ring.

"Is Madame de Vaudrey within?" he asked in Dutch.

The man's accent when he replied in the affirmative left no doubt that

he was a Frenchman. Harry explained his errand in French, whereupon the

man said in the same language that his mistress was for the moment

engaged, but that if Monsieur would wait no doubt she would see him

shortly. He led Harry through the wide hall, up a handsome oak

staircase into a little ante-room, where, begging him to be seated, he

shut the door upon the visitor.

Harry was immediately aware of voices engaged in conversation on the

other side of the folding-doors that formed one wall of the room. At

first the sounds came to him as murmurs in different tones, but after a

time they became louder, and though he could not distinguish the words

it was plain that one at least of the speakers was very angry. At

length he heard the fierce clanging of a bell below; a few moments

after, the manservant came running into the ante-room and threw open the

folding-doors. Harry, looking into what was evidently the drawing-room,

saw a group of four. One was clearly the lady of the house, short,

stout, dressed in a costume little resembling the Dutch housewife's

usual attire. She was very angry, talking vehemently, and gesticulating

with her plump white hand. By her side stood a younger lady, half a

head taller, slim and graceful, perfectly still and collected, though

her cheeks were flushed. Opposite to the two ladies, their backs to the

four windows which lit the other end of the room, were two men, one very

tall and lean, with thin lips. The other was but little shorter and a

good deal stouter. Harry's attention had been at first attracted to the

ladies; the burlier of the two men was the last of the four to be

noticed; and it was with a shock of amazement that he recognized in his

figure and blotched red face no other than Captain Aglionby.

"Allez-vous-en, allez-vous-en!" the elder lady was repeating. "Quittez

ma maison, tout de suite; je vous l'ordonne, je l'exige, je le veux

absolument; retirez-vous, messieurs, d'ici, et au plus vite!"

Aglionby laughed. None of the four had yet caught sight of Harry

standing back in the darker ante-room. The lady turned to the manservant

and ordered him to eject the unwelcome visitors. The servant hesitated

to attempt a task clearly beyond his strength. Aglionby put his hand on

his sword, and then laughed again brutally as he recognized that he had

nothing to fear. All the time the taller man stood quietly watching the

scene, occasionally moistening his lips; and the girl remained in the

same tense immobility, her eyes never leaving the face of Aglionby.

Harry felt it was time to intervene.

"Perhaps I may be allowed--" he began. At the first word the captain

swung round as if on a pivot and stared. His puffed crimson face turned

a sea-green as he saw advancing towards him, fresh, lithe, confident,

the youth whom he fondly imagined by this time leading a slave's life in

a Barbados plantation. The other man did not stir; but the two ladies

looked towards the speaker with a sort of startled surprise. Stepping

towards the elder, Harry continued:

"Perhaps I may be allowed to offer my services. If Madame will be so

good as to retire, I will--reason with these gentlemen."

Madame de Vaudrey clasped her hands and looked indecisively at the

new-comer, as though doubting the propriety of accepting the

intervention of a stranger. Harry was on the point of explaining who he

was, when the matter was settled in an unexpected way. The girl moved

to her mother's side and took her by the hand. Then, turning to Harry,

she said in clear, cold tones:

"If Monsieur will rid the house of these two men he will do my mother a

great service. Come, Mamma!" And then, without another glance at any

of the three, she led Madame de Vaudrey, still half-resisting, from the

room.

The colour had been gradually returning to Aglionby's face, and when the

ladies had disappeared his purple hue was deeper than ever. But the

surprise of Harry's presence was so great that for the moment the

doughty captain was nonplussed; his anger was at boiling-point, but he

was clearly at a loss what course to take. His companion stood

expectant, a slight smile still on his face--a smile rendered peculiarly

disagreeable by a twitching of the mouth that drew one corner

perceptibly upwards towards the left ear.

The interval of silence seemed longer than it really was.

"I am sure, gentlemen," said Harry with great urbanity, "you will see

the propriety of at once relieving Madame de Vaudrey of your presence."

Then the storm broke. Glaring with rage, unable to stand still,

stuttering in his speech, Aglionby roared:

"You insolent puppy, you low-born cully, you--how dare you speak to me!

What are you doing here? Stap me, I'll run you through the midriff and

rid the world of a bit of vermin!"

"I shall be delighted to give you an opportunity--outside," said Harry

quietly. "Meanwhile, the door is open, and by making your exit you will

please not Madame de Vaudrey only, but me and, it appears, yourself."

"Adsbud, I'll--I'll----" stuttered Aglionby, half drawing his sword.

Harry had his right hand on the hilt of his own weapon, the third man

was still watching the scene, when an unlooked-for diversion occurred.

Harry was between the two rooms, the two men opposite him with their

backs to the drawing-room windows, which were open. It happened that a

flight of steps led up from the garden to a balcony beneath these

windows. At this critical moment a fourth man came suddenly into the

room from the outside. Before any of the three could perceive what was

happening, the new-comer, with a long acrobatic spring, simultaneously

imprisoned in his arms the necks of Aglionby and his companion, and

half-throttling them dragged them past Harry, through the ante-room,

into the corridor, and down the staircase. Harry followed, himself

somewhat amazed at their helter-skelter progress--bumping down the

stairs, struggling vainly in Sherebiah's vice-like grip, swaying against

the balusters first on one side then on the other, the wood-work

creaking and groaning under the pressure. Half-way down the men lost

their feet altogether, and were incapable of resisting the rush with

which their captor hauled them across the vestibule and through the open

door, where he pulled up with a sudden jerk and shot them down the

flight of shallow steps on to the drive in front. The whole proceeding

scarcely occupied more than half a minute, so sudden had been the onset,

so helpless were the two men, gasping half-strangled in Sherebiah's

merciless hug.

Harry ran down the stairs, expecting to find his man engaged in a battle

royal before the house. But when he reached the door he saw Aglionby

and the Frenchman already halfway down the drive towards the road. They

had not waited, then, to demand satisfaction of him. Smiling at his

recollection of their headlong descent, he went upstairs again, and was

met by Madame de Vaudrey, who had come from another room at the sound of

scuffling. She was very pale.

"They are gone, Madame," said Harry at once, to reassure her.

"Oh, Monsieur, I thank you, I thank you with good heart! Your help at

the precise moment was so precious. I cannot thank you too much."

"It was my servant, Madame--a very useful fellow. He did it all himself.

I am glad we happened to be at hand. This unforeseen incident has

prevented me, Madame, from explaining my presence here. I have called

to leave a packet entrusted to me by Mynheer Grootz, a friend of yours,

I think."

"Oh! it is my tulip bulb. Mynheer Grootz promised to send it me. Yes,

he is a friend of mine indeed. But are those men really gone? Will

they not overpower your brave servant? They are bad men--oh, they are

bad! I fear them."

"I saw them going down the drive. And my man knows how to take care of

himself," said Harry. "They will not trouble you again at present. And

now, Madame, as I have Mynheer Grootz's packet in the ante-room, if you

will allow me to place it in your hands I will take my leave and proceed

on my way."

"Mon Dieu, non!" cried the lady. "You must allow me to give you some

refreshment, and your brave man too--if he is really safe! Jean," she

called to the servant, "bring wine and cakes and fruit to the

drawing-room. But first see if this gentleman's servant is safe."

"He is, Madame," replied the man at once. "The men from the stables and

the garden were coming to the door: Mademoiselle had fetched them: and

they were too many for Monsieur de Polignac and the other."

"How thankful I am! Bring the brave man up with you. Now, Monsieur--I

do not know your name?"

"It is Harry Rochester, Madame; I am English."

"Indeed! Come into the drawing-room and rest. Jean will bring

something to eat and drink immediately."

She led the way into the room, gave Harry a comfortable chair, and sat

opposite to him, folding her plump hands on her lap, and heaving a sigh

of satisfaction and relief. The servant soon reappeared with a tray,

and when Madame de Vaudrey had seen Harry supplied with drink and food

that pleased him, she dismissed her man, read the letter Mynheer Grootz

had enclosed with his gift, and began to talk.

"You are English? That is interesting. My dear husband's mother was

English, so that my daughter has a little--a very little, of

course--English blood in her. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that

you came when you did. That is also another debt I owe to Mynheer

Grootz. He writes very amiable things of you. I was at my wits' end,

Monsieur Rochestair; I will tell you about it.--Do you like that wine?"

"Thank you, it is excellent."

"I am so glad! You speak French very well for an Englishman. My

daughter wishes to learn English. She takes after her father, not after

me. I wonder where she is?"

Harry followed her glance to the door; he too had wondered what had

become of the tall girl who had shown so much decisiveness of character

at an awkward moment. But she did not appear.

"Well," continued the amiable hostess, "let me tell you all about it."

Mynheer Grootz's recommendation was clearly a passport to her favour.

She leant back in her high chair, and in her clear, well-modulated voice

told Harry what he was, it must be confessed, curious to hear. It was

three years since her husband, the Comte de Vaudrey, died. He was a

student, not a man of affairs; and his fortune suffered through his lack

of business-like qualities. The estate, a small one, purchased by his

father when as a Huguenot he fled from France at the revocation of the

Edict of Nantes, was now much encumbered. Monsieur de Vaudrey had

bought the best perspective glasses and other expensive scientific

instruments, had spent large sums on rare books and specimens, and had

so embarrassed himself that he had to apply to the Amsterdam bankers,

who advanced him money on a mortgage of the estate. Not long afterwards

he died.

"It is only a year ago," continued Madame de Vaudrey, "that we learnt

that we were to have a neighbour. The estate adjoining our own had been

in the market for many years, and we heard that it had at last been

purchased by a Monsieur de Polignac, a Frenchman, and a Huguenot like

ourselves. We were rejoiced at the news; a neighbour of our own race

and faith would be so charming, we thought. And so indeed he was, at

first. I thought his visits to his estate too few; he was so often at

the Hague; when he came to see us he was so debonair, so gracious, that

I liked him well. With my daughter, quite the contrary. It was

prejudice, I told her; but from the first she looked on him coldly.

Then all at once he became a more frequent visitor, and I saw--yes, a

mother's eyes are keen--that he had pretensions to my daughter's hand.

I did not oppose him; he was rich, noble, a Huguenot; but Adele--certes,

Monsieur Rochestair, no maiden could ever have given less encouragement.

The first time he was refused he smiled--he does not look well when he

smiles, think you?--and said that he would still hope. But though I

thought the match a good one, I would not persuade my daughter: she is

all I have, Monsieur, and so young. He went away; then a few days ago I

am astonished to see him reappear in company with Captain Aglionby, who

is visiting him. Now first I begin really to dislike Monsieur de

Polignac."

"Did you know Captain Aglionby before, then?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Yes; that is why. I know him, and I think no friend of his can be a

good man. Captain Aglionby stayed for a month in this house some five

years ago. No, he was not a welcome guest; he was brought here to

recover from a wound he had received in a skirmish near by; ah,

Monsieur, he is an odious man! I hate his loud voice, his turbulence,

his rodomontade; imagine, three times, Monsieur, three times he

intoxicated himself in my house, and excused himself with the plea that

he had done so many times with the Czar of Muscovy. He used to force

himself into my husband's study, meddle with his things, spoil his

scientific experiments--my husband was discovering a plan to get gold

from sea-water, and we should have been so rich! But the odious captain

ruined all. I am sure he did, for the experiments came to nothing."

"Why did you put up with it?"

"Alas! what could we do? My husband was a man of tranquil soul who had

lived so long with his books that he could not deal with men. As for

me--you see me, a poor helpless woman! and Adele was then only eleven!

judge then my surprise and alarm when I see Captain Aglionby in company

with Monsieur de Polignac. Still more to-day, when Monsieur de Polignac

comes once more to urge his suit. Adele refuses him with scorn. And

then--oh, the villain!--he tells me he has bought from the Jews of

Amsterdam the mortgage on this estate, and if Adele will not be his

wife, then he turns us out--think of it, Monsieur; turns two defenceless

women out. This it is that changes me, a weak woman, into a fury, as you

see."

Harry forbore to smile at Madame de Vaudrey's placid impersonation of a

fury.

"They are a couple of villains indeed," he said. "It was truly

fortunate that I came with Sherebiah at the right moment."

"Yes, indeed; a thousand thanks! And only think of it: just before you

came Captain Aglionby, odious man, had dared to hint that when we were

thrust out of our home he would do me the honour to marry me. Truly an

honour! No, I never forget my dear husband; no, never! Ah, this is the

dear brave man, your servant?"

The door had opened, and Sherebiah came in awkwardly, turning his hat

between his hands. Madame de Vaudrey rose and, smiling upon him, said:

"I give you a thousand thanks. You are a hero; how strong! how bold!"

Sherebiah bobbed.

"Madame de Vaudrey thanks you," said Harry.

"'Tis handsome of the lady, sir, and I'm obleeged, and axes you to put

my sarvices into French lingo, sir."

He bobbed again.

"What about Captain Aglionby?" asked Harry.

"Well, sir, I reckon he be madder than a March hare. Nigh to bust

hisself, and hot as pepper. Would ha' slashed me, man o' peace as I be,

if 'tweren't for half a dozen Dutch coofs wi' pitchforks and other

articles o' warfare drawn up below, wi' the young lady at their head.

Ay, she be a warrior bold, sure enough: I never seed such a piece of

female manliness all my life long. 'Twas with a flashen eye and a pink

rose on each pretty cheek her stood and ordered 'em out. Ay, an

uncommon upstanden piece o' womankind her be, to be sure."

Harry was glad that Madame de Vaudrey's ignorance of English could not

fathom this plain-spoken tribute to her daughter's charms.

"They are really gone, then?" he said.

"Why, yes, both on 'em; the long beetle chap as well. He be a next-door

neighbour, it seems, and a mighty unpleasant neighbour he must

be.--Thank 'ee kindly, mum," he added, as Madame de Vaudrey offered him

a glass of wine, "but if 'ee don't mind, I'd rather wet my whistle with

a mug of beer in the kitchen."

The lady smiled when this was interpreted.

"You English are like the Hollanders in that," she said. "Certainly.

Jean, take the brave man to the kitchen and treat him well."

Sherebiah pulled his forelock and departed with alacrity.

"We must shortly be going on our way, Madame," said Harry. "I have a

convoy of provisions for the garrison at Breda, and my wagoners are even

now growing impatient, I doubt not."

"But, Monsieur, I cannot hear of it. You cannot reach Breda to-night;

and suppose those odious men return? You must be tired. Do me the

favour to stay here for the night; and we can find a bed for your man

also."

"But the wagons?"

"Let them go on to the village; it is but half a league away. They can

remain at the inn there. Monsieur, I insist; and besides, I have to

write a letter of thanks to my friend Mynheer Grootz."

Harry had no reason for refusing an invitation so cordial. Madame de

Vaudrey beamed when he accepted, and, begging to be excused, went off to

make arrangements with her servants. Left to himself, Harry looked

round the room. It was richly furnished; the tables, cabinets, and

chairs were of French make, in highly polished rose-wood; chairs and

sofas were covered with crimson velvet, and two cabinets were filled

with beautiful porcelain and Dutch china. The pictures upon the walls

were all French, except one--a portrait, evidently by a Dutch hand and

of a comparatively recent date. It represented a man's head, with dark

complexion and wistful melancholy eyes. Harry was attracted to it by a

slight resemblance to his father; not in the features, which were quite

unlike, but in the curious sadness of the expression. His thoughts were

carried back to his old home at Winton St. Mary, and the quiet life with

his father there; a mist came before his eyes, and he fell into a

reverie, standing thus before the picture.

So rapt was he in recollection that he did not hear the door open behind

him, nor turn to see the entrance of Adele de Vaudrey. For a moment the

girl stood in the doorway, holding the handle. An onlooker would have

seen a strange shifting of expression upon her face as she paused in

hesitation whether to advance or retire, to speak or to remain silent.

It was but for a moment; her lips softened, her long lashes drooped down

upon her eyes; and closing the door as noiselessly as she had opened it

she slipped away.

*CHAPTER X*

*Bluff*

A Stroll--A Fair Cook--Love and Duty--An Arrival--General van

Santen--Raiders--A Dozen all Told--Rallying the Peasants--Desperate

Counsels--The Masqueraders--Strategy--A Ruse de Guerre--Stage

Effects--Final Touches--In Sight--At the Door--Ransom--A Turn of the

Screw--Phantom Forces--Dilemma--Discretion--Courtesies

"Ah, my dear Monsieur Rochestair, pardon me for leaving you so long. I

have been to prepare your room."

"Thank you indeed, Madame!"

"You were looking at the portrait? It is my dear husband. Is it not a

fine head? Can you imagine, after seeing it, that I could put that

odious captain in his place? Not that I should think every man bad

unless he resembled my husband. No, that would be unjust. But come and

see my garden, Monsieur Rochestair. It is beautiful outside now that

the sun is going down."

"I shall be delighted. I have noticed how the scent of the flowers

comes to us here through the windows."

"Yes, I love flowers. Mynheer Grootz knows that."

Madame conducted Harry through the grounds. They were laid out with

more freedom than was usual in Holland, and reminded him at many a turn

of well-tended parks at home. The house was surrounded by its garden;

beyond this was an expanse of lawn and thin park bounded by a wall.

Beyond this again, Madame de Vaudrey explained, lay the orchard

belonging to the far larger estate now owned by Monsieur de Polignac.

At a considerable distance from the house on the eastern side Harry

remarked a large open stretch of ground, roughly circular in shape,

covered with grass that grew wild and was left uncropt, Across the

middle of it ran a ditch, now apparently dry, passing under the garden

wall and the road, and evidently connected with the canal. Near to the

spot where the ditch disappeared beneath the wall stood a large

dilapidated building, like the storehouse usually attached to a Dutch

mill.

"You wonder at our neglect of this part of the grounds," said the lady

with a smile. "But that is our skating pond. In winter we open the

sluices at the canal end of the ditch; it fills, the water overflows,

and thus we flood the field. Then comes the frost, and we have, I think,

the finest skating pond in Holland, and quite safe. We used to hold

tournaments, people came from miles around; but alas! since this

terrible war has recommenced we have almost forgotten those pleasant

sports of winter. I do hope it will soon come to an end. I never could

understand what men are fighting about. My dear husband used to speak

of the balance of power; the French king wishes to rule everybody, he

told me; certainly King Louis is a bad man; he has behaved disgracefully

to us poor Huguenots; and I dare say you English are quite right in

helping the Dutch to punish him. But war is so terrible. My dear

husband was trying to invent something that would enable one army to

make another army senseless without killing them; I know nothing about

it, but the idea was excellent; and if the truth were known I dare say

it was that odious Captain Aglionby who spoilt that too."

Thus the good lady kept chattering to Harry as she conducted him over

her little estate. The evening was drawing rapidly in; a light mist was

rising, and Madame shivered a little as she turned back towards the

house. A moment afterwards her daughter met her.

"Mother," she said, "you should not be out in the damp air. You know it

is bad for you."

"Yes, my dear," replied Madame de Vaudrey, submitting to be enwrapped in

a large woollen shawl which her daughter's fair hands wound about her

head and shoulders. "I have been showing Monsieur Rochestair our little

property--alas! soon to be ours no more. I told Monsieur why, Adele."

The girl's cheeks flushed, but she said nothing.

"I did not tell you, Madame," said Harry, "that I happen to know

something of Captain Aglionby."

"Indeed! nothing but what is perfectly odious, I am sure."

"I have reason to believe that he was concerned in an attempt to ship me

to our plantations in Barbados. My man tells me----"

"Monsieur," interrupted the girl, "my mother is subject to chills. You

are staying with us to-night; will you hasten to the house with my

mother and tell us the story at supper?"

"With pleasure, Mademoiselle."

Harry felt a little in awe of this very decisive young lady, with her

scornful lip and clear uncompromising tones. She hurried in advance to

the house, and was waiting in the panelled dining-room when the others

appeared. The table looked very inviting with its spotless napery,

shining plate, and vases of flowers, and Harry found the meal much to

his taste after the plain fare of Dutch hostelries. Besides such staple

viands as Westphalian ham and bag-puddings--one variety of these, filled

with raisins and spices, was excellent--there were dainty French

dishes--confections of fruit and cream which surprised even Madame la

Comtesse.

"Ah, you rogue!" she exclaimed; "I see now where you hid yourself this

afternoon."

"Mademoiselle likes cooking?" Harry ventured to say.

"By no means, Monsieur, I dislike it exceedingly."

"Oh!"

"I knew we had nothing ready, Mamma," added the girl, "and you would not

have liked Monsieur to think little of your hospitality."

During the meal Harry gave the ladies an account of himself, speaking of

his early hopes and ambitions, his disappointments, the vain waiting for

a message from Marlborough, the strange animus of the squire, the

kidnapping, the interposition of Mynheer Grootz. His hearers were

deeply interested; even Mademoiselle, though she said little, and seemed

to curl her pretty lip when her mother's curiosity or indignation showed

itself in little vivacious exclamations,--Mademoiselle kept her eyes

fixed on Harry as he spoke, though whenever he happened to glance

towards her she was looking away and appeared unconcerned.

"Ah, there now!" cried the comtesse, when Harry mentioned, without a

trace of bitterness, Marlborough's failure to keep his promise; "that is

my lord duke's character. He is mean, he is selfish, he loves no one but

himself."

"And the duchess," put in Harry.

"But that is his duty. It is his duty to love his wife. I did not say

he was a monster."

"Did you love papa from duty?" asked Adele simply.

"I never said that, Adele. Of course it is a woman's duty to love her

husband, but your dear father was so good, so kind, so fond of me that

no one could help loving him."

"Mynheer Grootz is good and kind, but you don't love him."

Madame de Vaudrey flushed.

"You say such odd things, Adele. I can't think how it is. I never said

such things when I was a girl. Mynheer Grootz is good, and kind; you

are right; and if it were my duty----"

"Oh, Mamma," cried Adele, "do forget the word duty! I am sure none of us

either loves or hates from duty.--Would Monsieur like some strawberries

and cream?"

Harry went to bed that night very well pleased with himself, his

hostess, and her daughter. He liked the little, simple, talkative

countess; he was piqued by Adele's reserve, coolness, indifference--he

hardly knew what to call it; the something which seemed to indicate that

Harry Rochester was a creature far too insignificant for the notice of

Mademoiselle Adele de Vaudrey. "And she is clever, too," he thought.

"Faith, how she sent Aglionby to the right-about! Polignac is a

scoundrel; what will they do if he turns them out? And how did he come

across Aglionby? She will not marry him, at any rate; that's one

comfort."

It is very unromantic, but the truth must be told. Thoughts of Adele did

not keep Harry one instant from sleep. His bed was a dark

mysterious-looking box, with brown damask curtains drawn closely round

it. Withdrawing the curtains, he saw a magnificent quilt of crimson

satin, snowy sheets, a lace-trimmed pillow. He scrambled up, barking

his legs against the high boards composing the sides, and the moment he

laid his head on the pillow forgot Aglionby, Marlborough, Adele, and

duty.

When Madame de Vaudrey bade good-night to her daughter she said:

"Eh bien, fillette; je l'aime, le bel Anglais. Il est brave,

intelligent, modeste, parfaitement aimable, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oh, petite maman, que voulez-vous? Est-ce que je _dois_ l'aimer, moi

aussi?"

And kissing her mother on both cheeks Adele ran off laughing.

Harry was awakened in the morning by the loud singing of the birds. He

had left his window wide open, and the scent of flowers and perfume from

the fir wood at the extremity of the estate gave him fragrant greeting.

He sprang out of bed, and stood at the window inhaling the luscious

odours, listening to the song of the birds and the incessant hoarse

croak of the frogs, gazing at the grass glistening with dew. "I should

like a week's holiday here," he thought. "Ay me! it is breakfast, and

then for Breda!"

But he had only just left his room when he heard below a violent

clanging of the bell, followed by a strange voice speaking in the hall,

and a hasty running to and fro. Hurrying downstairs, he met Adele de

Vaudrey at the foot of the staircase.

"Come with me, Monsieur," she said the moment she saw him. "Mamma is

not down yet."

She preceded him through the hall door, at which he now saw a light

calash drawn up, and behind it ten horses, nine of them sat by Dutch

dragoons, the tenth being the steed of the soldier who stood at the

door, and whose voice it was that Harry had heard. From the horses,

clouds of vapour rose into the fresh morning air; the pace had evidently

been forced. In the calash were two men: the elder, in the uniform of a

Dutch officer of high rank, reclined on the cushions, half-supported by

a young aide-de-camp seated at his side. He was deathly pale; his eyes

were closed.

As Mademoiselle de Vaudrey, followed by Harry, came to the door of the

carriage, the aide-de-camp without changing his position addressed her

in Dutch.

"It is as you see, mejjuffrouw. It is General van Santen; he is

desperately wounded. We hoped to reach Breda, but the general swooned a

few minutes ago and I dare not drive farther."

"Bring him in at once," said Adele. "The soldiers can lift him. Never

mind about explanations now. One of the soldiers must ride on to the

village for the meester; it is only half a league. Monsieur," she

added, addressing Harry in her quick, decisive tones, "assist; I will

warn Mamma."

She ran back into the house. The inanimate general was carefully

carried into the hall. He was a fine soldierly man, with a strong

rugged face of English rather than Dutch cast. Harry remembered that

Mynheer Grootz had mentioned General van Santen as a friend of his, and

one of the ablest and most trusted of the lieutenants of William of

Orange. Madame de Vaudrey had by this time come from above, and stood

in pale expectation. The general was laid upon a sofa in the

reception-room, and Adele had already provided a basin of water and a

bottle of smelling-salts with which she endeavoured to revive the

wounded officer.

"What is it?" cried Madame de Vaudrey, who had left these ministrations

to the hands of her capable daughter.

The aide-de-camp explained that General van Santen had left the Duke of

Marlborough's camp late at night on his way to the Hague. In the faint

dawn he had suddenly come upon a French raiding-party which had

apparently made a dash from Lierre. It was known that Tserclaes had

advanced from the main French army in order to protect Antwerp. The

general had dashed through with his men, but not rapidly enough to

escape a bullet which had lodged in his groin. With great difficulty he

had kept the saddle as far as the next village; but there, exhausted by

the effort and by loss of blood, he had been placed in a hastily

prepared carriage and driven on in the hope of arriving at Breda in time

to warn the garrison. His wound had proved even more serious than was

supposed; he had lost consciousness, and his aide-de-camp had deemed it

necessary to halt at the first house and ask for assistance.

"In what direction are the raiders coming?" asked Harry.

"In this direction, Mynheer," replied the aide-de-camp.

"And how far away were they when this happened?"

"About ten miles."

"So they may be here within an hour?"

"If they ride on at once, but they will probably stop to plunder."

"Can they be checked?"

"Alas, Mynheer! there is no force near at hand."

"Surely they will raise the country?"

"But they are mounted, and the country people cannot cope with them.

Even if the news is carried to Helmund there are none but burghers

there, and they are useless against cavalry, except behind their own

walls."

"And how many do the raiders number?"

"More than a hundred, as I judge, Mynheer."

Madame de Vaudrey stood in agitated silence while this rapid colloquy

was in progress. Adele was still bathing the wounded man's temples; no

one present had sufficient knowledge to attempt more than the roughest

of means to bind the wound. In a few minutes the general opened his

eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked, feebly.

"In the house of Madame de Vaudrey," said that lady.

"How far from where I was shot?"

"Only a few miles," replied the aide-de-camp.

"Then someone must ride to Breda for help, and take my despatches. They

must be at the Hague to-night."

"I will write a note to the commandant," said the aide-de-camp, "and

send one of the troopers."

"No, no, lieutenant, you must ride yourself. I can't trust the

despatches to a trooper."

"But I do not care to leave you, general."

"It is my wish. The enemy can only capture me, but they may do

unheard-of mischief around. Delay no longer: ride fast."

The exertion of talking was too much for him, and he swooned again.

Loth as he was to go, the aide-de-camp could not ignore the general's

express instructions. Before leaving he took Harry aside and asked him

to consider himself in command of the troopers.

"You're not strong enough to beat off the enemy," he said, "but it will

be well for the men to have someone to look to in emergency. Don't let

the general fall into the enemy's hands if you can help it."

Harry hesitated. His first duty was undoubtedly to secure the safety of

the convoy, for the sake both of the Breda garrison and Mynheer Grootz.

On the other hand, he scouted the idea of deserting the ladies in their

predicament. Further, the raiding-party were upon the road behind him;

they had clearly swept round Eyndhoven, avoiding Helmund, and in all

probability were on the heels of the general. Even if he got his convoy

safely away from the village it could only move at a walking pace. In

an hour or two it must be overtaken, and he would thus do no good either

for himself or the ladies by instant flight. He therefore made up his

mind to remain at Lindendaal, and assured the aide-de-camp that he would

do his best. But when the lieutenant had ridden off, and Harry

reflected on the position of the ladies, he thought it worth while to

suggest that they should start at once for Breda in order to be out of

harm's way. Adele answered at once for her mother.

"Impossible, Monsieur! We cannot leave the general; we will not leave

the house. Consult your own duty."

Her tone was not to be gainsaid. Harry went into the hall, wondering

what he could do for the best. He met Sherebiah at the door.

"Eh, sir, 'tis a pretty pickle o' fish."

"What are we to do, Sherry?"

"As a man o' peace, I say cut and run."

"Can't we defend the house?"

"Wi' ten Dutch dragoons and a gardener and a maid or two? And two

hundred French, so 'tis said!"

"But men will come in from the villages round."

"Ay, on foot, and with pitchforks and flails. Not much good against

swords and carbines."

At that moment a man galloped up from a village some eight miles down

the road, with news that the French were already sacking and burning.

They had first demanded a ransom, and the sum required not being

forthcoming within the short time allowed, they had begun their ruthless

work. A few moments afterwards one of Harry's teamsters rode up on a

cart-horse. He had heard the news from the aide-de-camp as he passed

through the village where the convoy had put up for the night, and come

back to ask for orders. Harry caught at the chance of delay. The

French, it appeared, first demanded a ransom; could they be put off and

time be gained for relief to arrive? The question suggested a plan that

might be tried in default of a better.

"Ride back, Piet," said Harry, "and bring up the wagons as fast as you

can, and as many of the villagers as you can muster--with arms, if they

have them."

His idea was to barricade the road; every minute's delay was a minute

gained, and as the news spread he believed that the Hollanders had

courage and spirit enough to strike a blow in defence of their homes.

In point of fact, Piet had hardly departed to fulfil his errand when

Dutchmen came up in ones and twos and threes, some on great lumbering

farm-horses, others on foot, all hastening towards Breda in the hope of

escaping the devouring French behind them. A few had firelocks, some

had bills, others staggered along under the burden of household

valuables they hoped to save from ruin. Harry set Sherebiah to

intercept them all as they came up and to bring them within the grounds,

and as their number swelled he reverted to his original idea of

defending the house.

It was a counsel of desperation. The house had several entrances, each

one of which must be manned; it was too large to be held by so small a

garrison. The outhouses would afford cover to an attacking force.

Including the ten dragoons, there were only at present fourteen

well-armed men among the ever-growing crowd; he could not improvise

arms, and little effective work was to be expected from an untrained

rabble, however courageous, pitted against regular troops. Further, to

defend the house from within would inevitably lead to its being fired

and blown up, and Madame de Vaudrey would profit not a jot. If the

house was to be saved it must be by preventing the enemy from reaching

it. What chance was there of effectually barring the road against the

raiders? He went out to investigate.

As he reached the park gate he was met by two men who had just come on

foot from the village. One was a yeoman, the other a soldier belonging

to some infantry regiment--a man probably on furlough. Harry was struck

by the similarity of their costumes. Their hats were almost alike;

their doublets and knee-breeches of similar dark materials; but for the

red collar and the bands around the sleeves, there was very little at a

distance to distinguish the soldier from the civilian. A sudden notion

flashed through Harry's mind. It was a chance in a thousand; the risks

were great; the odds were all against success; but on the other side

there was the imminent danger of destruction to the house, ruin to the

owners, the capture of the Dutch general, and the subsequent burning of

the village.

"We'll try it," he said to himself. "Sherry, send every man up to the

house, and let me know the instant our wagons appear."

"Ay, I will, sir.--'Tis a pretty ticklish time o' day for a man o'

peace," he muttered under his breath.

Harry ran back to the house. The doctor from the village overtook him

on horseback, and they entered together. Mademoiselle de Vaudrey showed

some surprise when she saw Harry, but she made no comment.

"Mademoiselle," said Harry, "the general is in good hands now. May I

ask your assistance?"

She gave him a keen glance, rose at once from her knees, and followed

him from the room.

"Mademoiselle," continued Harry eagerly, "have you any red ribbon, silk,

stuff, anything, in the house?"

"Perhaps. Why do you ask?"

"Will you find all that you can, and with your maids sew red bands round

the collars and cuffs of the men?"

"To make them look like soldiers--is that what you mean?"

"Yes," replied Harry, delighted that she seized his meaning so quickly.

"I will do so at once. Send the men to the hall."

Harry next called up old Jean, and bade him fetch the gardener. When

the man appeared, Harry asked him to gather as many sticks as he could,

by preference wood with the bark on, about five feet in length, and

stack them at the back door. A few minutes afterwards a message reached

him from Sherebiah that the wagons had arrived. He ran upstairs and,

regardless of ceremony, called out: "Mademoiselle de Vaudrey!"

Adele came out of a room, holding a strip of red ribbon.

"Mademoiselle," said Harry, "I must go to the gate. Will you make every

unarmed man look as much like a soldier as possible, and see that each

is provided with one of the sticks that the gardener is now collecting?"

"Yes. Is there anything else?"

"Is it possible to run up a flag on the belfry-tower?"

"If you say it is to be done, it shall be done."

"I do not want the flag hoisted at present; but if you will prepare to

do so----'

"Very well," interrupted the girl.

Harry thanked her with a look, and ran downstairs three steps at a time.

He called to one of the dragoons to accompany him, and hastened again to

the gate, meeting on the way several men whom, in obedience to his

instructions, Sherebiah had sent up from the road.

"Sherry," he said, "ask this fellow if a cavalry troop on the march is

preceded by an advance guard. He won't understand my Dutch."

"I can tell 'ee that," said Sherebiah instantly. "They do so. A patrol

goos ahead, mebbe a quarter of a mile."

"Oh! Now, mark my plan. Mademoiselle de Vaudrey is making some of the

Dutchmen look like soldiers; we've no muskets for them, but at a

distance I hope sticks may serve as well. I am going to post these

make-believe soldiers around the wall of the estate among the trees; it

will look as if the orchard and woods are manned. They will remain

concealed until a flag appears on the tower; then their sudden

appearance will, I trust, make an impression."

"Ay, sir, 'tis famous. But if the patrol gets much past the house,

'twill be labour lost, for they will be near enough to see 'tis all my

eye."

"Yes, that must be avoided. What can be done?"

"I tell 'ee, sir. Leave three o' the wagons on the road, half a mile or

so towards the village, where the road bends; I reckon Piet and Hans and

me can keep any French patrol a-diddle-daddlen until the flag runs up.

Then--do 'ee see, sir?--dragoons slip out of copse and trounce the

Frenchmen, Piet and me and Hans draws the wagons across the road: and

there be a barricade."

"A capital notion! I will leave that to you, then.--Ah! here is a man

from the other direction. He may have news of the enemy."

A countryman, with his wife and family, had just driven up in a cart.

From him Harry learnt that the French were sacking isolated farms on the

road, and might be expected within the hour. Harry at once went back to

the house, ran up the stairs, and again called for mademoiselle.

"May I go up to the roof and see if I can descry the enemy?" he asked.

"I will take you."

She led the way to the turret stair, and in a few moments Harry stood

upon the roof, whence on fine days a clear prospect for many miles could

have been obtained. The morning was somewhat overcast, and the haze

limited his view. But in one quarter he seemed to see a blackness that

could only arise from the smoke of burning houses. Between him and the

cloud appeared the gables of a house larger than Madame de Vaudrey's

chateau.

"That belongs to Monsieur de Polignac," said Adele in reply to his

question.

"The French will come to that first; that will gain a little time for

us."

At that moment his eye caught the large barn-like building at the

extremity of the Vaudrey estate, just beyond the ditch running into the

canal. In a flash a new idea set his pulse leaping. Hitherto his only

aim had been to delay or daunt the enemy until help could arrive from

Breda or some nearer point. But the recollection of what he had seen

when going round the estate on the previous evening suggested a daring

scheme which made him tingle with excitement. Adele looked at him in

silent curiosity as he stood for a few moments pondering the situation.

Then he turned suddenly to her.

"Mademoiselle, who opens the sluices of the ditch when you make your

skating-pond?"

"Jacques the gardener."

"Thank you! I will go to him."

He turned at once to descend. As he came to the head of the staircase

he noticed a mass of coloured stuff lying at the foot of the belfry.

"Ah, the flag!" he said. "Thank you, Mademoiselle!"

A glance upward assured him that the running-line was in order; then

without another word he went down. Finding the gardener, he hurried

with him to the park entrance. His wagons were drawn up outside. He

ordered three of his teamsters to drive their carts into the thicket

beyond the outbuilding down the road.

"The enemy will have a rearguard," he said. "As soon as that has well

passed, bring your wagons into the road and block it between the wall

and the canal. I will send a dozen men and two of the dragoons to

remain in hiding with you. Now, Jacques, go to the ditch and open the

sluices. How long will it take to flood the field to a depth of seven

or eight inches?"

"Not more than half an hour, Monsieur."

"Very well. Stay; have you a boat anywhere on the estate?"

"A punt, Monsieur. I go to market in it on the canal."

"Where is it?"

"In the old barn yonder, Monsieur."

"Bring it out and float it in the ditch half-way across the field. Moor

it so that it doesn't drift."

The man hurried away.

"'Tis all ready, sir," said Sherebiah, coming up. "The road is blocked

towards the bend, and the men be hidden in the wood. Med I ask, sir, if

shouten would be any use?"

Harry smiled.

"We found it useful once, eh, Sherry? Certainly; when you see the flag

go up, the more noise you make the better, especially if you can make a

din with garden tools, or anything of steel."

"Trust me, sir; I ha'n't served wi' a travellen show for nothen. I'll

show 'em the way, ay sure."

"Mind, not a movement till you see the flag. Now, to your places."

He returned once more to the house. Adele met him at the door.

"I have done all you said. Is there anything more that I can do?"

"Thank you, Mademoiselle! nothing, I think. I wish to see Madame de

Vaudrey now."

They went together into the reception-room. The general had recovered

consciousness, and lay prone on the couch. The doctor was at the window

talking to Madame de Vaudrey, who was clearly in a state of intense

agitation.

"Oh, Monsieur Rochestair," she said as Harry entered, "have they sent

help to us yet?"

"No, Madame, I fear there has scarcely been time."

"What shall we do? what shall we do? I fear we shall all be ruined."

"Pray calm yourself, Madame," said Harry quietly. "Doctor, is it

possible to remove the general to another room?"

"I do not advise it. He is comfortable; I hope he will sleep."

"Meester, let us take him to the dining-room," said Adele in Dutch.

"It would be a pity, and----"

"Do you wish it, Monsieur?" she interrupted, turning to Harry.

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

"Then he shall be removed. Meester, be so good as to have the general

removed at once. The men can lift sofa and all."

Adele herself called four men in from the front of the house, and the

general was quickly carried across the hall into the dining-room. Harry

was left with the two ladies.

"Madame," he said, "will you remain here with Mademoiselle? Be seated;

take up your needle-work; try to look as though there were nothing to

fear."

"How can I? how can I? when every moment I fear to see my house in

flames."

"Mamma," said Adele, "it is necessary. Monsieur is planning to save us;

we must help him. Come, I will fetch your spinning-wheel. Monsieur, we

will do our best, I give my promise."

"Thank you, Mademoiselle! When the French arrive, an officer will

enter; I will bring him in here; show no concern; leave the rest to me."

He went out, sent into the woods all the men who were still about the

house save two of the dragoons, whom he placed in a cloak-room off the

hall. Then he ran up again to the roof.

Looking eagerly down the road, he caught sight of four horsemen

approaching at a trot. They were about a mile away. Beyond them the

road was concealed from view by a clump of trees. He saw at a glance

that Jacques had fulfilled his instructions to the letter. Where half

an hour before had been a bare field there was now what appeared to be a

broad lake, with a solitary punt floating at about the middle of its

surface. Scanning the boundaries of the estate he failed to descry a

single human figure. He drew a long breath; all his preparations were

complete; what would be the outcome?

The four riders were drawing nearer, and behind them he now saw the

helmets and lances of the main body. They were as yet too far away for

him to estimate their number. Taking care to keep out of sight himself,

he watched the patrol of four, and saw two of them dismount at the old

barn and enter.

"They have left Monsieur de Polignac for the present," he said to

himself. "I wonder why."

After a few minutes the two horsemen emerged from the building,

remounted, and rode on with their companions. Then Harry slipped down

the stairs, instructed old Jean, who was trembling in the hall, to

conduct to the reception-room any soldier who came to the door, and then

walked quietly in and rejoined the ladies.

"They are coming?" said Adele.

"Yes. They will be here in a minute."

Madame de Vaudrey gave a gasp and let her hands fall to her sides.

Adele jumped up, slipped a skein of wool over her mother's hands, sat on

a stool opposite her, and began to wind the wool into a ball. A few

seconds later the clatter of hoofs and the clank of sabres came from

without. Then a heavy tread was heard in the hall, and a loud voice

called for the master of the house. There was a moment's pause; Jean

opened the door, stood on one side, and in a quavering voice announced:

"Madame, Monsieur demande----"

His voice broke, he could say no more. The ladies looked up, Madame de

Vaudrey with pale cheeks and twitching lips, Adele with unmoved

countenance and stony stare. After one glance she placidly resumed her

winding; Harry, with his hands in his pockets, strolled over from the

window.

"Well, my man, what do you want?" he said.

The sergeant involuntarily saluted. He looked by no means comfortable.

His eyes went from one to another of the silent group.

"Monsieur--Mesdames----" he began; then, recovering his self-possession

and putting on a swaggering air, he continued: "To resist is vain. The

commandant will decide. I have warned you, Mesdames--Monsieur."

"It is very good of you," said Harry blandly. "Your boots are marking

the carpet; perhaps you will wait outside."

The man's cheeks purpled; without another word he abruptly turned and

went out. At the front door he stationed two of his companions, and

rode back to meet the advancing troop, the sounds of whose approach were

now echoed from the surrounding woods. From the window Harry saw the

sergeant make his report to the officer at their head. The commandant

smiled and rode on. Two minutes later his spurs rang on the stone steps,

and Jean showed him into the room.

"Madame, voila encore un visiteur."

In obedience to a hint from Adele, Madame de Vaudrey rose and made a

curtsy. Harry smiled as he saw Adele's low mocking obeisance. The

officer doffed his cocked hat, laid it with both hands upon his heart,

and bowed.

"Madame--Mademoiselle--Monsieur," he said.

He was a tall, stout, florid man of some forty years, with large nose

and bloated cheeks. His costume was very rich, plentifully bedecked

with gold lace and decorations, spick and span in all its appointments.

"More like a courtier than a soldier," was Harry's first impression. His

few words of salutation had been uttered in a strong German accent.

"Madame, Monsieur," he said, "I have the honour to be a colonel of

dragoons in the service of his highness the Elector of Cologne, who, as

you are doubtless aware, is in alliance with His Majesty of France. I

regret exceedingly to have to discommode you; it is a painful duty; but

what would you?--war is war. My duty, Madame, Monsieur, is to levy

contributions on the enemy's country. Alas! that I am obliged to treat

you, Madame, Monsieur, Mademoiselle, as enemies, but duty is duty. Not

for all the world would I render it more disagreeable than necessary to

such charming ladies, and to your excellent son, Madame; but I must

request you to hand over to me five thousand florins--that, I am sure,

you will regard as a most modest estimate of the value of your

delightful house. I regret that I can allow only five minutes for the

completion of this little transaction; in five minutes, Madame,

Monsieur, with five thousand florins I pass on with my men. It pains me

to say it, but if the money, or its equivalent--in plate or jewels,

Madame, what you please--is not forthcoming within five minutes, I must

with the very greatest regret take what I can find and burn the place.

The notice is short, it is true; but Madame will understand; we soldiers

have no time to spare, and my orders are positive; every house that is

not ransomed is to be burned. Ah!" he ejaculated as he caught sight

through the window of smoke in the distance, "I fear my men have already

set fire to your barn. It is an excess of zeal, but, as the proverb

says, the appetite grows with eating; we have had to light many such

bonfires of late!"

This speech had been delivered with the greatest deference. At its

conclusion the colonel lugged out a big timepiece, and held it open in

his left hand.

"From now five minutes, Madame, Monsieur."

Madame de Vaudrey had listened with terror in her eyes. She was

beginning to speak, but Adele called suddenly "Mamma!" in a warning

tone, and the lady sank back in her chair, looking at Harry as he

advanced a step or two towards the officer. Harry's throat felt

somewhat dry; his heart was thumping unpleasantly; but he was to all

appearance perfectly self-possessed as he said:

"Mademoiselle, will you see what can be done?" adding in an undertone

the two words, "the flag!"

Adele nodded.

"Pardon, Monsieur." She curtsied to the officer as she went past him

into the hall.

"Before discussing the amount of our contribution, Monsieur le Colonel,"

said Harry, "may I enquire by what right you make this demand?"

The officer looked him up and down.

"Certainly, you may enquire, Monsieur. I answer: by the right of a

hundred sabres, and the practice of war. In my turn, may I beg of you to

let this explanation suffice. Time presses. But for the presence of

Madame"--he bowed to Madame de Vaudrey--"I should have regarded your

question as a mere impertinence, and treated it--and you--accordingly."

Madame de Vaudrey looked anxiously from one to the other, and heaved a

sigh of relief as Adele returned and resumed her seat by her mother's

side.

"I marvel, Monsieur," said Harry, after a quick exchange of glances with

the younger lady, "that a soldier of your rank and experience,

acquainted with the practice of war, should, in your unfortunate

position, permit himself such language."

"Comment! My unfortunate position!" The big man swelled, his red

cheeks empurpled. Turning to the ladies he said: "Is the young man

mad?"

"You shall judge, Monsieur," said Harry quietly. "Do me the favour to

place yourself at the window."

He had just caught sight of one of the colonel's dragoons galloping up

the drive towards the house.

"That is one of your hundred sabres, I presume. He is hastening to

inform you that he has met Dutch troops belonging to General van Santen

half a mile up the road. In the other direction--this way, Monsieur--you

can just see our men barring your retreat. You observed, no doubt, a

canal on your left as you rode along; it is twenty feet deep; and if you

will condescend to come to the back windows"--the captain followed him

as in a daze--"you will see a large Dutch force occupying yonder woods,

which, save the lake on our right, are your only line of retreat."

The colonel's astonishment was no greater than Madame de Vaudrey's. She

rose from her chair and moved towards the window, but was checked by

Adele's restraining hand. The girl's eyes were shining, a spot of red

burned on either cheek. The colonel stared and stared at Harry, who

stood with a slight smile upon his lips, at the ladies, at the figures

which appeared among the trees beyond the wall--heads and shoulders,

with cocked hats and red collars, and at every shoulder a musket.

"Comment! comment!" he spluttered; then without another word he hurried

from the room, followed by Harry, just in time to meet the dragoon at

the outer door. The man saluted.

"Mon Colonel," he said in a fluster, "there is a barricade at the bend

in the road half a mile beyond us held by Dutch troops. My comrade

Gustave was knocked off his horse by----"

"Donnerwetter!" cried the colonel, relapsing into his native language.

He sprang heavily into his saddle on the charger held in waiting by one

of his troopers.

"I suppose, Monsieur le Colonel," said Harry carelessly at his elbow,

"you are counting the cost of resistance?"

The officer was looking anxiously and indecisively about him, clearly at

a loss what course to take, but as clearly eager to make a fight of it.

"I must warn you, Monsieur," added Harry, "that the least resistance

will rob you of all chance of quarter. The whole countryside is roused

to fury by the news of your exploits. My general has with him not only

his own men but a large force of peasants from the villages. If it

comes to a fight, he may not have the power, even if he had the

inclination, to protect you from their vengeance. They are barbarous in

their methods, these peasants; but then, as you know, Monsieur, they

have been provoked."

At this moment there was a sharp report. A cornet of the French horse,

seeing the barricade of carts suddenly run across the road by the barn,

had sent a party of his men back to investigate. One of the troopers as

they approached was shot from behind the barricade and fell from his

horse. The echo of the shot had hardly died away when there came two

reports from the barricade up the road, accompanied by a faint shout.

The colonel gathered up the reins; a dragoon came galloping up the drive

crying:

"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"

[Illustration: "Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"]

"You see, Monsieur," continued Harry, "you are in a ring fence. It is

for you to make your choice, and at once, between surrender

and--annihilation."

Harry had not misjudged his man. Utterly bewildered, the colonel gazed,

like a caged animal, helplessly around him. At the end of the drive his

men could be seen rigid and expectant. Behind him, beyond the wall, he

saw the figures as he supposed of Dutch troops armed, and with all the

advantage of position. The sun, breaking through the clouds, glinted

upon steel which, at the distance, he could not be expected to recognize

as bill-hooks, pruning-knives, and whatever other implements the

premises had afforded. At a little distance down the road he saw,

through gaps between the trees that lined the wall, his patrol galloping

back to the main body. Trying to collect himself, he at length set off

at a slow trot towards the gate. Harry at once signed to the two Dutch

soldiers hidden in the cloak-room to come out, and ordered them to stand

at attention one on either side of the door. The leader of the French

patrol pulled his horse up on its haunches at the road end of the drive.

"The road is blocked, mon Colonel," he said, "with a barricade of carts

and beams held by a strong force of the enemy. We cannot estimate their

numbers; they keep under cover; but one of the men is killed by their

fire, and by their shouts there must be at least a hundred."

Without a word the colonel rode across to the brink of the canal. The

lowness of the water and the height of the bank showed at a glance that

any attempt to swim his horses across would be disastrous; they could

never scramble up the opposite side. The men might cross and crawl up,

but a moment's reflection showed what the fate of a small body of men

would be, retreating on foot through a hostile country. The colonel

looked down the road; the blazing barn inspired uncomfortable thoughts.

He had seen many such conflagrations of late, and knew well that the

peasants would take a full toll of revenge if he fell into their power.

Wheeling round, he for the first time caught sight of the two Dutch

soldiers standing behind Harry on the steps of the house. This seemed

to bring home to him the hopelessness of his position; muttering a curse

he walked his horse slowly up the avenue. Harry came forward to meet

the scowling officer.

"It is the fortune of war, Monsieur. I see you have chosen the wiser

course. You surrender to superior numbers. I am authorized by my

general to accept your surrender. You will receive honourable

treatment; he knows how to appreciate a gallant warrior; but the

peasants----"

The colonel tried to smile.

"I am concerned--I say it frankly--for the safety of my men. With your

troops,"--he shrugged--"we might take our chance; but your peasants,

your burghers--parbleu! we know them; they are savages, they are tigers.

To whom, Monsieur, have I the honour of yielding my sword?"

"Immediately, Monsieur, to me; my name is Harry Rochester, an Englishman

at present in the--in the Dutch service; ultimately to General van

Santen, to whom I shall have the honour to introduce you in a few

minutes. Now, Monsieur le Colonel, you will direct your men to ride up

the avenue, dismount, stack their arms in front of the house, and fasten

their horses to the garden palings behind. Sergeant," he added, turning

to one of the sentinel dragoons, "ride at once to the general and

acquaint him that Monsieur le Colonel----"

"Baron von Schummelpincken."

"That the Baron von Schummelpincken has surrendered. Send a dozen men to

take charge of the horses. In twenty minutes we shall be in camp."

*CHAPTER XI*

*The Battle of Lindendaal*

A Hitch--A Charge in Flank--Irregular Warfare--Called Off--A

Suggestion--Compliments--Thanks--Adieux--Luck--After the Fair--A Triumph

To his credit, Colonel the Baron von Schummelpincken did his best to put

a good face on the predicament in which he found himself. He rode back

to his men to inform them of the arrangement. The moment he had gone,

Adele de Vaudrey came out, her face aglow with excitement.

"Monsieur," she said, "General van Santen asks what the uproar, the

firing, means; shall I tell him?"

"As you please, Mademoiselle."

"It is as you please, Monsieur."

"The day is not ended yet, Mademoiselle."

"I will say nothing, Monsieur." She went into the house.

The sergeant had spurred across the meadow behind, through a gate in the

wall, into the orchard and wood. In a few minutes he reappeared with his

comrades, who came at a trot towards the house. Their pace was

leisurely, but a keener observer than the colonel, who at this moment

was half-way up the avenue at the head of his troops, might have noticed

that the horses' flanks were heaving violently. The men had in fact

galloped at full speed from the horns of the position in obedience to

the sergeant's signals, and only checked the pace in response to a

suggestion of Sherebiah, who had made the best of his way after them.

Harry ordered the ten dragoons to draw up in line at right angles to the

house.

"Sherry," he said, as the man came up puffing, "bring me one of the

dragoons' horses."

He mounted just as the colonel emerged from the avenue. Sherry stood by

his side at the nearer end of the line of dragoons.

The colonel, some dozen yards ahead of his men, came to Harry and handed

him his sword. Harry politely returned it, a compliment which the

officer courteously acknowledged.

"Monsieur," said Harry, "we understand the arrangement? Your men will

pile arms in front of the house, file off to right and left, tie their

horses to the palings, then pass round on foot to the rear of the

house."

"Certainly, Monsieur."

Harry watched eagerly as the troopers came two by two up the drive and

did his bidding with the precision of automata. Events had crowded so

thickly that he had scarcely had time to think; but now he could hardly

sit still on his horse, so intense was his anxiety to get the whole

scene over. Everything appeared to be answering to his wishes; his

arrangement for the French dragoons to file off in opposite directions

was a precaution to divide the force; they began to pass behind the

house one by one. About half of the troop had thus piled their arms and

fastened their horses; the clock in the belfry-tower struck the first

note of noon, and Harry was already congratulating himself that almost

by the time the last of the leisurely Dutch chimes was ended his ruse

would have been completely successful, when a loud voice was heard from

the road.

"Mon Colonel! mon Colonel! they are only peasants and burghers. It is a

trick, a trick!"

There was an instant halt. Harry's heart was in his mouth; Sherebiah

muttered, "Zooks! 'tis hot 'taties now!" The colonel, his face aflame,

spurred his horse from the pillar at the end of the avenue, and, drawing

his sword, vociferated:

"A moi! a moi!"

For a moment Harry felt that all was lost. But only for a moment, for

in that instant he saw that with his handful of men in line he had the

advantage of the troopers debouching two by two from the balustraded

drive. Turning to the dragoons at his side he shouted "Charge!" and

dashed straight at the enemy. It was in the nick of time. A few

seconds later they would have been ready; at this precise moment they

were awkwardly placed. Half a dozen men of the nearer file were leading

their horses towards the palings; beyond them the armed and mounted men

were approaching from the drive, and eight files presented their flank

to Harry's little force of ten. As he charged, the dismounted men

scattered like hares before him, and the sixteen armed troopers had

barely time to wheel round to meet the onslaught before Harry and his

Dutchmen were upon them. All the advantage of impetus and direct attack

was with the Dutch. Harry, grasping his sword, came full tilt upon a

burly Alsatian. Almost before he had realized it he had passed over the

dragoon and his horse, and, parrying a swinging cut from the man behind,

had shortened his arm and thrust him through the shoulder. The man

dropped his sabre and fell from his horse, which wheeled round and

plunged madly through the dismounted men on the farther side.

In a trice Harry was through the mellay, and bringing his horse up on

its haunches, wrenched it round so that he might take stock of the new

situation. He found that the majority of his Dutch troopers had stuck

close to him, and with the readiness of old campaigners were already

wheeling round to face the discomfited enemy. A dozen men were on the

ground, including the portly colonel; several horses were careering

wildly through the small open space, impeding the movements of the

dismounted men who had made a dash for the piles of arms in front of the

porch. The French troopers were still filing up the drive, but the

sudden uproar had startled the horses. The riders were too much

occupied with their steeds and too closely packed to make effective use

of their pistols; the one or two who fired aimed erratically, and no one

was hurt. But Harry saw that the only course open to him was to charge

again and again until the peasants, summoned by the noise of the fray,

could come to his assistance. It was fortunate that the remainder of

the enemy's troop could only debouch two by two from the drive; the

stone balustrade on each side of it prevented them from deploying until

they entered the open space in front of the house. Two horses that had

been rolled over near the entrance to the drive were plunging and

kicking, hindering the advance of the leading troopers, who were now

being pressed by the men behind. Once more the little band of Dutchmen

hurled themselves at the head of the enemy's force, and with the same

result, though Harry was instinctively aware, when he again emerged from

the mellay, that his followers were fewer in number. Among them,

however, he noticed Sherebiah, who had possessed himself of a sword and

pistol from the stand of arms and a horse from the palings, and was

comporting himself as though, so far from being a man of peace, he had

as much experience of warfare as any trooper present. Two of Madame de

Vaudrey's gardeners also had appropriated weapons, and were holding at

bay a group of the disarmed enemy who hovered round, trying to dash in

and recover their arms.

Harry saw little of this, however. He wheeled his horse once more to

repeat the charge. He was followed now by only six men; at least a

dozen fresh troopers had debouched from the drive, but, like their

comrades, they had not time to form before the dauntless seven were upon

them. The odds were heavier now; only two succeeded in getting through;

the rest were checked. Then ensued a series of fierce duels, the little

group of Dutch being broken up and driven back by the weight of the

files pressing through as rapidly as they might into the open space.

Harry, engaged with a stout trooper, felt with a sinking heart that the

game was up; his arm was wrung with hacking and thrusting; his opponent,

fresh to the fight, closed with him, leant over his saddle, and tried to

grip him by the throat. At this moment there was a fierce shout,

followed by a perfect babel of cries. The trooper fell from his horse,

transfixed in the nick of time by Sherebiah's sword; and when Harry

after a few seconds was able once more to take in what was happening, he

saw the place thick with burghers and peasants who were falling upon the

enemy from both balustrades. Some had leapt on to the coping and were

dealing heavy blows at the dragoons and their horses with sticks, hooks,

scythes, and all kinds of strange implements; others were jabbing

through the interstices of the balustrades; all were shouting, smiting,

felling with a fierce vehemence that brooked no resistance. A panic

seized upon the enemy; the unarmed men bolted to the stables behind the

house and barricaded themselves there; the last files of the dragoons

threw down their arms and begged for quarter; and, turning to Sherebiah,

Harry bade him cry to the peasants, with the full force of his lungs, to

hold their hands.

A lull succeeded the turmoil. A crowd of the Dutch were hastening

towards the stables to burst open the doors and make short work of the

men sheltered there. To them Harry galloped up.

"Men," he said, "halt! in the name of General van Santen. The victory

is ours. We must await the general's orders."

The mob hesitated, then, with obedience compelled by their young

leader's mien, stood in sullen silence. Harry rode back to the opening

of the drive, stationed two of the Dutch dragoons there, and addressed

the colonel, who, with a lacerated cheek and contused shoulder, leant

against the palings, a picture of chagrin, pain, and baffled rage.

"Monsieur, 'twas not well done. Your parole was given. But you are

hurt; go to the house--you will find tendance there."

At this moment another horseman suddenly appeared on the scene,

galloping up from behind the house. Wheeling his horse in some

surprise, Harry found himself face to face with Madame de Vaudrey's

neighbour, Monsieur de Polignac. He looked greatly perturbed; his mouth

was twitching; the air of cynical detachment he had worn in Madame de

Vaudrey's drawing-room had quite disappeared.

"Monsieur, what is this, what is this?" he cried.

"As you see, Monsieur--a skirmish," replied Harry. "We have captured a

raiding-party--and doubtless saved your house from the flames."

"But--but--do you not see your peril? You are not a soldier; these men

are not soldiers, the most of them; to wage war is for you quite

irregular; if caught by the French--and I hear, Monsieur, rumours of a

general advance in this direction--you will all be hanged."

"I will take my chance of that," said Harry. "I thank you,

nevertheless, for your warning, Monsieur."

"Bah! I counsel you to release your prisoners--without arms, it is

understood--and send them back to their lines."

"That is a matter for General van Santen, Monsieur. Would you care to

repeat your advice to him?"

Polignac gave him a savage look, opened his mouth to speak, thought

better of it, and, setting spurs to his horse, galloped away.

The scene of this tempestuous little fight differed greatly from its

appearance a short half-hour before. Thirty men, of whom twenty-four

were French, lay killed or wounded, with a few horses. The stone

balustrades were broken in several places; the flower-beds were

trampled; the gravel was ploughed up; shattered muskets, swords,

scabbards, pistols, hats, cloaks, strewed the ground.

"Carry the dead to the garden," said Harry. "Take the wounded to the

outbuildings and attend to them; there is a doctor in the house. A

dozen of you take arms from the pile there and guard the prisoners; lock

them up in the stables. Sherebiah, I leave you in charge."

Then, hot, weary, hatless, his coat showing several rents, Harry

followed the wounded colonel into the house.

"Monsieur," said Adele, meeting him, "the general insists on seeing you.

He was with difficulty restrained from rising and taking part in the

fray. You are weary; a cup of wine will refresh you."

Harry gladly quaffed at the cup she presented to him. Then he followed

her into the dining-room. The general frowned when he saw him.

"I want to see the leader," he exclaimed testily.

"This is he, Monsieur," said Ad<ble.

"You, Monsieur!--Mademoiselle, a youth, a boy--absurd!"

"It has been my good fortune, Monsieur," said Harry.

The general looked blank with astonishment. He half-raised himself on

his cushions, sinking back with a groan.

"They would tell me nothing, save that the French were discomfited.

Explain, from the beginning."

Harry gave a rapid narrative of the late events. He spoke always of

"we", seeming to include Adele, the general himself, and even Madame de

Vaudrey, who had joined them, among those who had planned the ruse.

Every now and then the general broke into his story with exclamations of

surprise and pleasure and praise.

"A daring, a clever scheme," he said as Harry concluded. "You are an

Englishman, they tell me; a soldier, I presume?"

"No, Monsieur le General, I have not that honour."

"That is the army's loss. You have shown great quickness, great skill,

and no less courage. I compliment you, Monsieur."

"I did what I could, of course, Monsieur; but things would have ended

very differently but for the peasants' bold attack at the last."

"Bah! I know them; they would have done nothing without a leader, but

with a leader they will fight--yes, and well. I doubt whether, in point

of military honour, the French colonel--whom I will tax on the subject

presently--did right to reassume command after he had yielded his sword;

still, much may be forgiven him; naturally he was chagrined and

perturbed; and he is moreover wounded, as I hear."

The general spoke with difficulty; he was very weak.

"You have saved your convoy; that is well. You will wish to take it to

Breda. I fear I cannot move. Madame la Comtesse, I shall be your

patient for a time----"

"Monsieur, I am honoured," said the lady.

"But the prisoners must be carried to Breda also. Monsieur, that

duty--that honour--must be yours. You have laid many under an

obligation: Mynheer Grootz, your excellent employer; the garrison at

Breda; Madame la Comtesse, whose house you have saved; and

myself--especially myself, for without doubt you preserved me from

capture, and in my wounded state capture might very well have finished

me."

"I hope for your speedy recovery, Monsieur."

"I thank you. Now, you will take six of my troopers with you; armed

burghers will serve for the remainder of your escort. I marvel that

help has not ere this reached us from Breda; you will report to my

aide-de-camp, whom you will doubtless meet there or on the road. Your

name, Monsieur, is----"

"Harry Rochester, Monsieur."

"Mademoiselle will note it down for me. My friend Mynheer Grootz will

have a visit from me. I am fatigued; Mademoiselle, a little cordial

from your fair hand. Monsieur, I bid you farewell."

Harry bowed and left the room, tingling with pleasure at the general's

praise. He went to the reception-room and gladly stretched his weary

limbs on a low couch there. Madame de Vaudrey followed him.

"How can I thank you!" she exclaimed. "I do thank you, from my heart, a

thousand times. How brave! I trembled, I wept when I heard the horrid

sounds; I could not look; Adele looked and told me; I thought you would

be killed; I was overcome, I could only pray. Oh! Monsieur, what can I

say? I can say nothing; I can only--yes; tiens! I kiss you."

At another time Harry might have been embarrassed; he was now so tired

that he could but accept passively all the motherly cares lavished on

him by the comtesse. She brought him food with her own hands, smoothed

his hair, begged him vainly to accept a ring as a token of her

admiration and gratitude; offered to give him a coat of her late

husband's to replace his own torn garment. Harry stood it all as long as

he could; at last, parrying another kiss, he sprang up and declared it

was time he set off with his prisoners and the convoy.

The prisoners capable of marching numbered eighty-five. The remainder

were too badly wounded to be moved. Gathering his escort, he had the

stable door unlocked and the prisoners paraded, and sent Sherebiah to

marshal the convoy. All was at length ready. It was half-past one when

he stood at the door to take leave of Madame de Vaudrey.

"Adieu, Monsieur Harry!" she said. "Au revoir!--that is what I mean.

You will come and see us again?"

"Nothing would delight me more, Madame."

"And stay; convey my thanks to Mynheer Grootz for the tulip bulb; you

will remember that? and yourself take the thanks of a mother and

daughter. Adele!" she called, "Monsieur Rochestair is departing. Come

and bid him farewell."

"Adieu, Monsieur!" said Adele, coming forward. "I add my thanks to

Mamma's for the great service you have done us."

"I could have done little, Mademoiselle, without your aid."

A flicker of pleasure passed over the girl's face; then, with a return

to her wonted coldness, she said:

"You are pleased to flatter, Monsieur. But I see there are still

knights-errant in the world. Adieu!"

There were tears in Madame de Vaudrey's eyes as she put her arms up and

kissed Harry on the cheek. He bowed over her hand, then sprang on to

the horse of one of the captured dragoons, and cantered after the line

of wagons and men already moving up the road. As he reached them he had

the impulse to turn for a last look at the chateau. The turret was just

visible above the tree-tops, and upon it he saw a female figure

motionless.

"One of the maids hauling down the flag, I suppose," he thought.

Then he set his face towards Breda; it was Adele who stood there

watching until he was out of sight.

"What a lucky dog I am, Sherry!" he remarked to his sturdy henchman as

they rode side by side.

"Ay sure, Master Harry, 'tis better to be born lucky nor rich. But

speaken for myself, I doan't zackly see there be much luck about it."

"Oh yes! there is. 'Twas merely luck that Mynheer Grootz had to send me

this way; mere luck that he had promised Madame de Vaudrey a tulip; mere

luck that the French chose that very day to come raiding; mere luck that

the place lent itself so easily to a trick----"

"Ay, and mere luck that 'ee happened to be born wi' a headpiece; mere

luck that 'ee can handle a sword and sit a horse; mere luck that 'ee've

got sojer's blood a-rompen through your veins. Daze me, if all that be

luck--well, Them above med as well ha' no finger in poor mortal pies at

all."

"Well, well, Sherry! But confess, 'twas odd to come upon Captain

Aglionby again, and in that house; what do you say to that?"

"Say! I say 'tis old Satan hisself playen pranks, and we'll ha' to keep

an eye on the villain."

"I laughed to see their heads in chancery; 'twas well done, Sherry, to

haul them down the stairs as you did. What has become of the captain

to-day, I wonder?"

"Trust me, he be doen mischief somewheres. I knows Cap'n, ay, I do."

From the stout Baron von Schummelpincken downwards the prisoners wore a

crest-fallen air. Save for the colonel and his subalterns they all

marched on foot, the horses being tied head to tail as Harry had often

seen at English country fairs. They had been marching for about an hour

when the head of the convoy met General van Santen's aide-de-camp

galloping at breakneck speed. He reined up when he noticed soldiers

among the men. Harry cantered to his side. Explanations were rapidly

exchanged. The Dutchman laughed heartily when he heard how the enemy

had been fooled.

"To tell the truth," he said, "I should never have thought the general

capable of such a stratagem."

"Indeed!" said Harry.

"I wish I had been there. It would have been more fitting that I should

take the prisoners to Breda than you, a sutler, I suppose you call

yourself."

"I don't think it necessary to call anybody names, Mynheer, myself least

of all. The general expected assistance; why has it not accompanied

you, Mynheer?"

The officer explained that on reaching Breda he had found that

practically the whole garrison was engaged in a reconnaissance in force

towards Antwerp, where General de Bedmar was showing signs of activity

that gave the confederate generals some concern. Only two troops of

horse had been retained in the town, and these had strict orders not to

leave the place. Infantry would be of little use against the French

raiders, and indeed it was impossible that they should reach Madame de

Vaudrey's house in time. The aide-de-camp had been accordingly provided

with a fresh mount and sent on to the main body, from which a squadron

had at once been detached. But the corps, when he overtook it, was a

good ten miles beyond Breda, and the relief squadron could not start for

the Helmund road until the afternoon. It was now some twenty minutes

behind the aide-de-camp, who had ridden forward to convey to the general

the news of the coming reinforcement.

He continued his journey, and Harry cantered on to overtake the convoy,

which had moved on while the conversation took place. Some minutes

later a cloud of dust in the distance heralded the approaching force.

When the two bodies met, Harry had reluctantly to tell his story over

again. The commander of the squadron pressed him for more details than

the general's aide-de-camp had done, and being a shrewd man he soon put

two and two together.

"The honour of the day is yours, my friend," he said to Harry, "and by

my soul you shall ride into Breda at the head of the column."

Harry protested; he did not relish the idea of heading a sort of circus

procession. But the Dutchman insisted; General van Santen had laid the

duty upon Harry, and he saw no reason to relieve him of it. He sent a

couple of his troopers on in advance to announce the event. Thus it

happened that when, in the dusk, Harry headed his convoy through the

gates, he was met by a great concourse of the populace, men, women, and

children huzzaing and waving hats and kerchiefs with vast enthusiasm.

All the pretty girls of the town, in their quaint bonnets and short

skirts, pressed around the horse to see the young Englishman, and a

comical little Dutch boy, with a toy drum slung over his shoulder,

placed himself in front of Harry's horse and proudly tattooed him

through the streets to the burgomaster's house. The burgomaster himself

made a very flowery speech of congratulation, to which Harry returned

the best acknowledgment he could; and he was heartily glad when the tide

of compliments ebbed and he had leisure to make formal delivery of his

prisoners.

He had not yet escaped, however. He was resting in his inn when a

messenger entered with an invitation to an impromptu banquet organized

at the burgomaster's. In vain Harry pleaded that he was in no trim for

fine company. The burgomaster's own tailor undertook to make him

presentable; he had to sit through a long Dutch feast and respond to the

toast of his health. Even then his labours were not ended. After the

banquet the company adjourned to the council chamber, where all the

beauty of the town was assembled. Harry had to lead off the dance with

the burgomaster's wife, a stout vrouw of forty-five years and fifteen

stone. He did his duty manfully, dancing the stately dances of the day

with unflagging spirit, and winning universal praise by the modesty with

which he wore his honours. The assembly broke up at a late hour; Harry

was dog-tired, and went to bed convinced that it was mighty hard work to

be a popular hero.

*CHAPTER XII*

*Harry is Discharged*

Rheum and Rum--Gall--Without Ceremony--A Question of Precedence--Res

Angustae--The Raw--To Scheveningen--Punctuality and Despatch--From the

Dutch Side--Temptation--Renunciation--Gretel--Misgivings

"Atchew!--confusion! This pestilent country--atchew!--will be the death

of me. 'Tis one eternal---atchew!--rheum! Stap my vitals! I wish I

were dead. Atchew! atchew!"

Captain Aglionby sat in the topmost room of a high house in one of the

less savoury quarters of the Hague. His nose was redder than ever; his

cheeks more puffed; his eyes looked like boiled oysters. A thick

woollen comforter swathed his neck. Though it was the height of summer,

a big log fire blazed in the hearth; window and door were fast shut; and

in a temperature of something over eighty degrees the captain was doing

his best, according to his lights, to cure a cold.

He was seated at a table drawn close to the fire. Upon the table stood

a bottle nearly empty, a beaker, a basin of sugar, an inkhorn, a

table-book of writing-paper, and a sheath containing quills. A kettle

sang on the fire. When his sneezing fit was over, the captain poured

the last of his rum into the beaker, sugared it, filled up with boiling

water, and gulped half of the mixture into a throat inured to fiery

passengers. Water streamed from his eyes, and his blotched brow broke

into a profuse perspiration. He wiped his face with a large red

handkerchief, smacked his lips, and, bending over the table, selected a

quill.

"Hang writing!" he muttered. "I never writ a letter but I rued it.

Atchew! And with this cursed cold! Well, the sooner begun, the sooner

done; so here's to it. Atchew!"

He cut his quill, dipped it in the ink, and began:

"Mr. BARKLEY. Sir."

It would have been quite evident to an onlooker that the captain was not

a practised penman. He wrote very laboriously, frowning at every

stroke, and licking his lips often. Like most illiterate people, he

repeated half aloud the words as he wrote them, and being so unused to

giving visible expression to his thoughts, he commented as he went

along. He was never at a loss how to spell a word, for in those days

men spelt as they pleased, and bad spelling might almost have been

regarded as one of the marks of a gentleman.

"Sir. This will, I hope, finde you well. For myself, I am afflicted

[atchew!] with a voilent Rheum, the wch I feare will turne to an

inflamatn of the Longs. [Egad! that'll please the old niggard!] I

command the sarvices of the best Potticary in the place, but finding his

nostrums vain, for three dayes have eate nought but Water Gruel. 'Tis

said that Rumm is a speedie Cure, but that I eschew. [Atchew!] My

Hande shakes with the feaver, & I shd not rite to you now had I not

Surprizing Nuse to give. You must knowe that, visitting at the house of

Mme de Vodray, where your he sarvant is ever an honour'd guest, [that's

worth fifty guineas to me!] what was my vaste Amazement to finde there

that yonge Cockerell H---- R---- swaggering it as one of the beste. It

passes my wit to divine how he escap'd from the _Merrie Maide_, & hope y

may recover the Passage Money, the wch methinks will be difficult.

[Atchew! He won't get a penny o't.] 'Tis passing strange the boy is

here, not lesse that he is acquaint with the Vodrays; & moreover with

him is my pestilent cozn S---- M----, of whom more hereafter, 'twill be

easie to deal with him, whereto I have already things _in Traine_.

H---- R---- is employ'd with one Grootz, a merchant of Substance, & one

that hath large Contracks with the confederate armies. The boy being

out of yr way, y have belike no further cause against him, & wd wish no

further stepps taken, comming & going is like at any time to Cooke his

Goose, but if I mistake in this 'twould be well to sende 100 Guineas by

the same Hande as wont, & I wd endevour to bring the matter to a safe

and speedie End, in wch case I wd make bold to aske for a further Summe

of 200 Guineas for to requite my Zeale in the sarvice of my honour'd

Frende & Patron."

"Atchew! Writing is plaguily dry work," he muttered, breaking off at

this point, "and the bottle's empty."

He tugged at a bell-pull, and resumed his letter.

"'Twill be no light Taske, seeing the yonge man hath captured of late a

Partie of above 100 French in an Affaire near Breda, the wch I doubte

not will give him some Consekence with the Dutch no less than himselfe,

of the wch Affaire 'tis like an Account will be printed in the

_Courant_. [Sure 'twill give Nick a start.] I must add that Living is

_verie Deare_ here. For my Creditt sake and the furtherance of youre

Ends, I have hired a Magnifficent Appartment, for the wch I have to paye

a sweete Rent. Hence it is verie nessessarie I have the Guineas without

delai. Waiting yr commands & so subscribe myself yr ever humble and

obediant