The prisoners who had been taken by the garrison had been for the most part confined in Newgate, but several gentlemen of rank had been permitted on giving their parole to dwell at large with private persons in the city.
Among the latter was the Vicomte de Laprade. No sooner had Lady Hester Rawdon learned that her nephew was a prisoner than she insisted on his being brought to her house, and De Laprade willingly exchanged the confinement of his prison for the society of his cousin and the comparative freedom of her house. With his ready power to adapt himself to his circumstances he was soon at home, and his gay songs and cheerful wit enlivened for a time the gloom that was gradually settling down on the household in common with the rest of the city. But even the lively humour of the Vicomte was unable to withstand the horror and distress that surrounded them on every side and deepened day by day. The pressure of famine, as silent as it was terrible, began to make itself sorely felt. Pestilence that had been lurking in the byways of the city, spread on every side, and all through the month of June the shells 185were crashing through the roofs and ploughing up the streets. The hope of relief that had burned steadily for a while was now growing fainter and fainter. Early in June three ships had come up the river as far as Culmore, but finding the fort in possession of the enemy, had not attempted to dispute the passage. And again, a little later, the garrison had seen from the Cathedral tower the friendly fleet far down the Lough, and had watched them with anxious hearts, till they saw them riding of Three Trees in the western glow of that summer evening. In the morning the sails were gone, and now the enemy had thrown a boom across the river which shut out the passage to the sea. But still the men of the garrison stood by the walls and manned the great guns and handled their muskets with a cheerful courage. There were traitors, no doubt, who deserted to the enemy, and traitors who murmured and plotted secretly; but for the most part the citizens stood loyally by their leaders.
Gervase Orme had suffered with the rest. He had seen poor Simon Sproule bury two of his children, and all the humour out of it, had listened to the heart-broken little man declare that God had visited him for his cowardice. The wasted faces and hollow cheeks that he met began to haunt his dreams; it became his only relief to lose himself in action and forget the horrors he had seen. His visits to the Rawdon household lightened the gloom a little. Dorothy bore her troubles with a quiet strength that put his manhood to shame, and alone in the household declared that 186the garrison should keep their guard while one stone stood upon another. Since De Laprade′s coming, Gervase′s visits had not been so frequent, for it was now impossible for him to find Dorothy alone during the day. The light badinage of the Vicomte jarred on his nerves, and it might be without knowing it he had become jealous of his presence. For the Vicomte′s admiration of the girl was open and declared and though he treated her with a quiet deference, it was plain he would willingly have surrendered his cousinship for a closer relation still. Dorothy appeared unconscious of his advances and turned away his flattery with a quiet smile.
Gervase had not called for several days, and had not seen any member of the household during that time. He was surprised to receive a note in Dorothy′s hand, asking him to call upon her during the evening, if his duties permitted him. It was the first letter he had ever received from her, and though he could not surmise its cause, his heart beat somewhat faster in his breast, as he pressed it to his lips in the quiet of his room. Yes, it was Dorothy′s hand, like herself, very strong and free, yet full of grace; and the words: “Yours in confidence, Dorothy Carew,” sent him forthwith into a pleasant reverie full of tender hopes.
All day he went about his work with a light and buoyant heart, with the precious missive out of which he had read so much carefully buttoned up in his breast, and did his duty none the worse for thinking of the girl who wrote it. When he called 187he was shown into the room by Jasper′s servant Swartz, and Dorothy was waiting to receive him.
“I hope, Miss Carew,” said Gervase, “there is nothing wrong--that Lady Hester is not worse?”
“My aunt is very well,” Dorothy answered, “but a little nervous and excited. This is a trying time for her, but she bears up wonderfully. I did not think she could have endured so much with so great patience.”
“And the Vicomte?”
“Nay, he is well. My brother has lately kept much to his own room, and Victor has grown tired of our society and joins him often there. How they spend their hours I hardly know, but I think they both are fond of play, and give themselves to cards. Your hours are spent otherwise, Mr. Orme.”
“Yes,” Gervase answered, “but you see I am a soldier and have my work to look to.”
“And why should all men not be soldiers?” said the girl excitedly. “If a woman might carry arms--but this is wild talk, and you know I do not mean it. What news is there to-day?”
“Nothing of much importance: the enemy have hardly fired a shot, but I hear there is talk of an expedition to-night, I know not whither. As for the ships, they have not been seen since Thursday, but the wind is from the north and they may be here to-morrow.”
“If Colonel Kirke should be another traitor?” Dorothy said; “one hardly knows whom to trust.”
188“I hope,” Gervase answered, “you will never find me false.”
“I do not think I shall, and that is why I sent for you to-day. Will you come with me into the garden, for we may be interrupted here.”
Gervase followed her out through the open window and down the path, wondering what confidence she was about to impose in him that required to be so carefully guarded. They came to a little, open space of smooth lawn where she stopped short and looked round her cautiously.
“I have thought much of this,” she said, “and I know no one but yourself to whom I can look for advice. I thought, indeed, of Captain Macpherson, but I did not know how he might act, and was afraid to trust him. What I am going to say I speak to yourself alone, and must be whispered to no other till you have my permission. Will you promise that?”
Gervase consented, hardly knowing what he promised, but seeing only the look of entreaty in her eyes.
“No matter what you feel to be your duty?”
“If it does not touch my honour nor the safety of the city.”
“Then I cannot tell you, for I do not know. Surely,” she went on pleadingly, “you can trust me, Gervase Orme? I stand alone and have none to counsel me, and--and I thought you were my friend. Surely you can trust me?”
“Every drop of blood in my veins is at your 189service, and though it may be weak and wrong and we may both regret it, I promise.”
“SHE STOPPED SHORT AND LOOKED ROUND HER CAUTIOUSLY”
She smiled a little sadly, and said with a touch of her old humour, “I had rather you had not promised, but you cannot go back on your word now. Do you think,” she said, putting her hand to her breast and looking round her, “do you think there are traitors in the city?”
“Indeed I think there are,” Gervase answered, “but we watch them narrowly and they do little harm. They would stir up rebellion if they might, but the Town-Major keeps them well in hand.”
“But I mean more than that. Do you think there are any in the city who hold communication with the enemy?”
“It may be there are, but I hardly ............