Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction
Then we determined that Carford must immediately be sought, and set out
for the house with intent to find him. But our progress was very slow,
and the moon rose in the skies before we stepped out on to the avenue
and came in sight of the house and the terrace. There was so much to
tell, so much that had to slough off its old seeming and take on new and
radiant apparel--things that she had understood and not I, that I had
caught and she missed, wherein both of us had gone astray most
lamentably and now stood aghast at our own sightlessness. Therefore
never were our feet fairly in movement towards the house but a
sudden--"Do you remember?" gave them pause again: then came shame that I
had forgotten, or indignation that Barbara should be thought to have
forgotten, and in both of these cases the need for expiation, and so
forth. The moon was high in heaven when we stepped into the avenue and
came in sight of the terrace.
On the instant, with a low cry of surprise and alarm, Barbara caught me
by the arm, while she pointed to the terrace. The sight might well turn
us even from our engrossing interchange of memories. There were four men
on the terrace, their figures standing out dense and black against the
old grey walls, which seemed white in the moonlight. Two stood impassive
and motionless, with hands at their sides; at their feet lay what seemed
bundles of clothes. The other two were in their shirts; they were
opposite one another, and their swords were in their hands. I could not
doubt the meaning; while love held me idle, anger had lent Fontelles
speed; while I sought to perfect my joy, he had been hot to avenge his
wounded honour. I did not know who were the two that watched unless they
were servants; Fontelles' fierce mood would not stand for the niceties
of etiquette. Now I could recognise the Frenchman's bearing and even see
Carford's face, although distance hid its expression. I was amazed and
at a loss what to do. How could I stop them and by what right? But then
Barbara gave a little sob and whispered:
"My mother lies sick in the house."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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