“So the hotel is at some distance?”
“At the other end of the town.”
“Very well,” said milady; and she got resolutely into the carriage.
The officer saw that the baggage was fastened carefully behind the carriage; and when this operation was over, he took his place beside milady, and shut the door.
Instantly, without any order being given, or place of destination indicated, the coachman set off at a gallop, and plunged into the streets of the town.
Such a strange reception naturally gave milady ample matter for reflection; so, seeing that the young officer did not seem at all disposed to talk, she reclined in her corner of the carriage, and passed in review all the suppositions which presented themselves, one after the other, to her mind.
At length, after nearly an hour’s ride, the carriage stopped before an iron gate, which shut in a sunken avenue leading to a castle severe in form, massive, and isolated. Then, as the wheels rolled over a fine gravel, milady could hear a dull roar, which she recognized as the noise of the sea dashing against a rock-bound coast.
The carriage passed under two arched gateways, and at length stopped in a dark, square court. Almost immediately the carriage door was opened, the young man sprang lightly to the ground, and gave milady his hand. She leaned on it, and in her turn alighted quite calmly.
“Still, the fact is I am a prisoner,” said milady, looking around her, and then fixing her eyes on the young officer with a most gracious smile; “but I feel assured it will not be for long,” added she. “My own conscience and your politeness, sir, are the guarantees of that.”
Flattering as this compliment was, the officer made no reply, but drawing from his belt a little silver whistle, such as boatswains use in ships of war, he whistled three times, with three different modulations. Several men then appeared, unharnessed the smoking horses, and put the carriage into a coach-house.
The officer, always with the same calm politeness, invited his prisoner to enter the house. She, always with the same smiling countenance, took his arm, and passed with him under a low arched door, which, by a vaulted passage, lighted only at the farther end, led to a stone staircase turning round a stone column. Then they paused before a massive door, which, after the young officer had inserted a key into the lock, turned heavily on its hinges, and disclosed the chamber destined for milady.
With a single glance the prisoner took in the apartment in its minutest details.
It was a chamber the furniture of which was at once suited to a prison or the dwelling of a free man; yet the bars at the windows and the outside bolts on the door decided the question in favour of the prison. For an instant all this creature’s strength of mind abandoned her. She sank into an armchair, with her arms folded, her head hanging down, and expecting every instant to see a judge enter to question her.
But no one entered except two marines, who brought in her trunks and packages, deposited them in a corner of the room, and retired without speaking.
The officer presided over all these details with the same calmness milady had always observed in him, never uttering a word, and making himself obeyed by a gesture of his hand or a sound of his whistle.
One might have said that between this man and his inferiors spoken language did not exist, or had become useless.
At length milady could hold out no longer. She broke the silence.
“In the name of Heaven, sir,” cried she, “what is the meaning of all this? Put an end to my doubts. I have courage enough for any danger I can foresee, for any misfortune I can comprehend. Where am I, and why am I here? If I am free, why these bars and these doors? If I am a prisoner, what crime have I committed?”
“You are here in the apartment destined for you, madame. I received orders to go and take charge of you at sea, and to conduct you to this castle. This order, I believe, I have accomplished with all a soldier’s strictness, but also with all the courtesy of a gentleman. Here ends, at least for the present, the duty I had to fulfil toward you; the rest concerns another person.”
“And who is this other person?” asked milady. “Can you not tell me his name?”
At that moment a great jingling of spurs was heard on the stairs. People talking together went by, the sounds of voices died away, and the noise made by a single footstep approached the door.
“Here he is, madame,” said the officer, leaving the entrance clear, and drawing himself up in an attitude of respect and submission.
At the same time the door opened; a man appeared on the threshold.
He had no hat on, wore a sword at his side, and was crushing a handkerchief in his hand.
Milady thought she recognized this shadow in the gloom; she leaned with one hand on the arm of the chair, and protruded her head as if to meet a certainty.
Then the stranger advanced slowly, and as he advanced into the circle of light projected by the lamp, milady involuntarily drew back.
Then, when she had no longer any doubt—
“What! my brother!” cried she, at the culmination of her amazement; “is it you?”
“Yes, fair lady,” replied Lord Winter, making a bow, half courteous, half ironical; “it is I, myself.”
“Then this castle?”
“Is mine.”
“This room?”
“Is yours.”
“I am your prisoner, then?”
“Nearly so.”
“But this is a frightful abuse of power!”
“No high-sounding words. Let us sit down and talk calmly, as brother and sister ought to do.”
Then turning toward the door, and seeing that the young officer was waiting for his last orders,
“It is all right,” said he; “I thank you. Now leave us alone, Mr. Felton.”
