"Now remember, Patsey, my last injunctions are that, when you perceive from the rush of fugitives that all is over, and that any firing that may still be going on is but an attempt to cover the retreat, you must not wait for me but, as soon as the sound of combat approaches, you will ride off with Leigh. You need not suppose, because I do not join you, that I am killed. The enemy may have pushed so far through the town that I may find it impossible to join you. But from whatever cause I tarry, you are not to wait for me. "If I am shot, it will be a consolation to me to know that you will be away under your brother's protection. If I escape, I shall, if I make my way to England, have the hope of meeting you there; and shall not be haunted with the fear that you have delayed too long, and have sacrificed your lives uselessly. I want you and him to give me your solemn promise that you will act thus, and will, as soon as he considers that further delay will be dangerous, ride off. Remember that this is my last wish, this is my last order." "I will do as you wish, Jean," his wife said firmly. "God has preserved us three thus far, and I trust that He will continue to do so. I shall have the less hesitation because I think that, alone, you will have perhaps a better chance of escaping than with us. At any rate, we will carry out your instructions. But should we miss each other, is there no place where we can arrange to meet?" "I do not see that it is possible to make any arrangements, Patsey. You may be turned out of your course, by circumstances which it is impossible to foresee; and the same may be the case with myself. Suppose we named a seaport, there would in the first place be difficulty in finding each other. You might see some opportunity of getting across the water and, if you lost that, the chance might not occur again; and the delay might cost you your lives. I trust that we shall not be separated, dear, but I see clearly that if such a misfortune should happen, it were best that we should each make our own way, in the hope of meeting at Poole. "You may be sure that I shall join you, if possible; for I see that, if separated, your difficulties will be far greater than mine. You, too, would have the burden of the child. But let us suppose that I was wounded, but got away and managed to obtain shelter in some Breton cottage. You might be waiting for me, for weeks, at an agreed point. Now, while travelling, you might escape many questions; but were you to stop even for a few days at any town or village, you may be sure that you would be questioned so closely, by the authorities, that there would be little chance of your getting on. I should know that, and should be fretting my heart out." "Yes, I see 'tis best that we should do as you say, Jean. God forbid that we should be separated, but if you do not come to the rendezvous, I promise you that we will, as you wish, go on by ourselves."