The Rising Storm

himself for the way in which he had behaved; so he was not surprised when Amanda told him with, for her, quite unusual sharpness, that it had been ungenerous in him to humiliate his rival to such a degree, or that she had spent the evening consoling George for his defeat. Nevertheless, the affair took all the swagger out of George, and his mortification was so keen that two days later he left the field clear to Roger by going on leave.

When Roger first heard the news he was delighted; but very soon his victory turned to dust and ashes in his mouth. He realized only too clearly that for the past month his efforts had been directed to ousting George, not winning Amanda, and now he had her on his hands. He knew, too, that although he had been driven to it by his unhappiness, ever since the night of the dance his mother had given for him he had played a part quite unworthy of himself; and the thought that he might now cause Amanda pain by having led her on added further to his misery.

A week after the fencing tournament she brought matters to a head herself. She was an unconventionally minded young woman who cared little what servants, or anyone else, thought of her; so on several occa­sions in the previous winter she had slipped out of her uncle's house after everyone else was in bed to go with Roger for walks round the grounds in the frosty moonlight; and soon after his return they had resumed these clandestine meetings.

Now, on these warm summer nights, if they had not been out dancing, they usually went down to one of Walhampton's three lovely wood-fringed lakes and, getting out a punt from the Chinese pagoda boat-house, spent an hour or so on the water.

On this occasion they were drifting gently, looking up at the myriad stars, and had been silent for a few minutes when Amanda said quietly:

'Do you not think the time has come when you should ask my uncle for my hand in marriage ?'

Roger stiffened on the cushions where he lay. Subconsciously he had recently been dreading such a situation; and although he was extremely fond of Amanda as a companion he still felt that he would never love anyone, apart from Isabella, sufficiently to want to marry them.

After a moment she gave her low laugh. 'Be not distressed, my dear, at the prospect of so awful a fate; for did you ask me I would not have you.'

His relief was mingled with the most acute embarrassment. He could not be certain that she really meant what she had said, and was desperately anxious not to hurt her feelings. But before he could think of anything appropriate to say, she went on:

'You are in love with someone else, are you not?'

'I'll not deny it,' he confessed. 'And if I have led you to think otherwise my only excuse is a genuine fondness for you. Yet that is no real excuse and I feel so meanly about it now that I could throw myself in the lake from shame.'

'Do nothing so desperate, I beg,' she smiled; 'for the resulting scandal would prove my utter ruin. But I knew it all along from your kisses. Your heart does not lie in them. Tell me about her.'

Roger shrugged unhappily. 'I will spare you the harrowing details. She is a Spanish lady that I met abroad. Although she is of the Popish faith we had plighted our troth; but her family intervened, and she is now married to another; so my case is hopeless.'

'That accounts, then, for the new bitterness that all your friends have observed in you since your return. But it will pass. You must occupy your mind, Roger; and with something of more worth than making a fool out of a poor booby like George Gunston.'

'You are right,' he sighed, 'and prodigious generous to me in taking my ill conduct to you so well.'

'Think no more of that,' she said after a moment. 'I have derived much pleasure from your company, and shall ever think of you with kindness; though we can no longer continue as at present. As long as George was dancing attendance on me I could afford to let you do so too; for it was assumed that I was hesitating as to which of you I would take. But by driving him away you have put a period upon our intimacy. All south Hampshire will now expect to hear of our engagement, and if they do not, malicious tongues will begin to wag. That I may be spared such unpleasantness either you or I must shortly take coach and leave Lymington to think what it will.'

Full of contrition at the awkward situation in which he had placed her, Roger immediately volunteered to leave the next day. But, on second thoughts, he suggested that, if it would not too seriously interfere with her plans, it would be better for her to leave first, as that would give the impression that it was she who had broken off their affair.

As it was now mid-September, and a few people would be drifting back to London, Amanda agreed that his idea was a sound one. Kissing him lightly on the cheek she declared that she would announce her departure for the end of the week. He, rather shamefacedly, returned her caress and said that until she went he would press his attentions more assiduously than ever, then shut himself up at home as though broken-hearted at losing her. A moment later they saw the funny side of the little comedy they proposed to play for the benefit of their acquaintances, and were laughing over it.

So Roger got out of the mess in which he had landed himself far easier than he deserved, and he was genuinely sorry when, with the longest face he could pull, he watched her coach drive away to London. Her going left him lonely once more and even his disappointed mother was taken in by the return of his moodiness. He had no need to act a part, as with lack of companionship his thoughts turned inwards again and with the loss of Amanda he felt more bitterly than ever the, to him, infinitely greater loss of Isabella.

In consequence, Lady Marie was not surprised when, three days after Amanda's departure, he announced that he would shortly be returning to France. The following Wednesday he took passage in a brig sailing with a cargo of salt from Lymington, and on the evening of Thursday September the 24th landed at Le Havre.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE ASSASSINS

THE upheavals that had shaken France only two months earlier were of such magnitude that Roger expected many signs of their repercussion to be visible in so large a city as Le Havre; so he was somewhat sur­prised to find that, apart from the new uniforms of the National Guard, there was little overt evidence to show that the Revolution had ever taken place. The town was orderly and people going about their business in a normal fashion.

There being nothing to detain him there, next morning he bought a bay mare with a white star on her forehead, and set out for Paris. Inland, just as in the Pas de Calais, here and there the blackened walls of roofless chateaux told their horrifying tale; but others that had escaped the holocaust still dignified the countryside, and within sight of them the peasants were placidly working in the fields as they had for generations.

Paris, too, showed little outward change, except that fewer private equipages with footmen in attendance were to be seen in the streets than formerly; so it seemed at first sight that France had come through the birth- pangs of her regeneration surprisingly quickly.

But Roger soon learned that all was far from well beneath the surface. At La Belle Etoile, his landlord answered an enquiry as to how he did with a glum shake of the head. Business had never been so bad as during the past month. Every man now considered himself as good as his master, which was foolish because the world could not go on that way; and what good did it do anyone to assume such superior airs if it brought no money into their pockets? The workpeople now had to be asked to do every little thing instead of accepting an order, and they did it or not as they felt inclined. Most of them idled away half the day, but they expected their wages just the same at the end of the week. In fact they were demanding more. In that Monsieur Blanchard would have sympathized with them, had they been willing to do an honest day's work; as corn was still terribly scarce and the cost of living higher than ever. But one could not pay people higher wages when one's own takings had fallen by more than 50 per cent. That stood to reason. Where all the money had gone he did not know. It was said that the thousands of aristocrats who had emigrated at the beginning of August had taken it all with them. There might be some truth in that. It was certainly no longer in Paris.

Wherever Roger went he heard the same gloomy story, and he soon became aware of the reason that lay behind it. On the 4th of August an extraordinary scene had taken place in the National Assembly. A report on the disorders in the Provinces had been presented the previous day and the deputies were considering how to produce some measure which would appease the fury of the peasants.

Two noblemen, the Vicomte de Noailles and the young Due d'Aiguillon, came forward and proposed that a solemn declaration should be made assuring future equality of taxation for all and the suppression of feudal burdens, except in certain cases where they should be redeem­able by long-term purchase. Others rose to support