The Rising Storm

hand he suddenly changed from French to English; and, gambling on the fact that as far as he knew she had not been in Ireland since her childhood, he said with the best imitation of an Irish brogue that he could muster:

'Ach, come now! Ye'll do it fer the sake of ould Ireland?'

Her blue eyes lit up again as she stared at him in surprise. 'Are ye tellin' me you're Irish then?'

'Bejabbers, I am! Now wasn't I born no more than five miles from Limerick town?'

'Ach, well now, to be sure.' She clasped his hand and put her other upon it. ' 'Tis all the difference in the wide world that's makin'. An' how could I bring meself to refuse such a broth of a bhoy ? It's an ould hack I am if the truth be known, for all that the blessed Saints have preserved me looks. What's a night in a lifetime to such as meself? Sure an' I'll give that tailor's dummy of a Spaniard an assignation just as yourself is wishin'. Though I'd leifer 'twas you than he that had designs on this bit of a woman that I am.'

So Roger and Sara parted the best of friends, and with a firm under­standing that she should send a billet-doux to Don Diego saying that she had relented, and was prepared to receive him at midnight the following night.

Roger slept at the Palazzo Sessa. In the morning he made his adieux to Mrs. Cadogan and the Junoesque Emma, thanked them for the hospitality that they had afforded him, and said he hoped that the future might bring him some opportunity of being of service to them. Then he rode out to Caserta.

Queen Caroline received him a little before midday. They had another long talk about the difficulties of Madame Marie Antoinette, then the Queen gave him her letter, told him that he would always be welcome at the Court of Naples, and bade him god-speed.

Afterwards General Acton gave him another letter. It was addressed to the Tenente Umberto Godolfo, of the sloop Aspide. The Prime Minister said that it contained instructions for the sloop to put to sea at the earliest possible moment and convey Roger to Marseilles, or the nearest French port to which contrary winds might bring her. He added that he had selected Lieutenant Godolfo for this task because he spoke French well, and so could readily be made aware of the wishes of his passenger.

Roger thanked the General, took leave of him, then said good-bye to Sir William Hamilton with real affection and regret. By half-past two he was back in Naples. Having stabled Sir William's horse, he had a quick meal, then took a carozza down to the harbour, where enquiries at the Castello dell’Ovo soon enabled him to run Lieutenant Godolfo to earth.

The Tenente proved to be a tall, dark young man of about the same age as Roger. On reading the Prime Minister's order he said that he was delighted with his mission, and would be most happy to serve the Chevalier Brook to the best of his ability.

Roger then asked him how long it would take to prepare the sloop for sea.

'We have first to water and provision her,' replied the Tenente; 'that will take some six hours; but I will hasten matters all I can to meet the wishes of the distinguished passenger that the Aspide is to have the honour of carrying.'

Having seen a crew of Corsican fishermen do a similar job in two hours, on the felucca that had brought him from Marseilles, Roger was not impressed; but, in view of all he had heard of the Royal Neapolitan Navy's shortcomings, he was not surprised, and he would not have minded if the Tenente had required double the time. So he said:

'That is excellent, Tenente mio. But I beg you, do not work your­self or your men too harshly, as the lady is unlikely to come aboard before midnight. In fact I doubt if she will have completed her packing by then, so I may have to kick my heels for her till one or two in the morning.'

'The lady ?' exclaimed the young officer, giving him a puzzled look.

'Yes,' Roger replied with a frown. 'A lady, her maid and page are making the voyage with us.'

The Tenente glanced again at General Acton's letter. 'His Excellency the Prime Minister says nothing about a lady here.'

'Does he not!' Roger shrugged. 'Ah well! Excellentissimo Acton is a busier man than you or I, Tenente, and has little time for making his letters longer than they need be. No doubt he thought it unnecessary to mention the matter, and considered it quite sufficient to order you to place yourself at my disposal.'

'Indeed, Monsieur le Chevalier,' the Tenente agreed eagerly. 'I feel sure you must be right. You have only to tell me your wishes. The lady will not be as comfortable as I would like on board my little ship; but I will make the best possible preparations for her reception.'

Roger thanked him graciously, said that he hoped to bring the lady and her attendants down to the quay at about one in the morning, and, returning to his carozza, ordered its driver to take him to Crocielles.

There he booked a room, said that he was going straight to bed, asked to be called at ten o'clock that night with a light meal, and arranged for a coach with a reliable driver to call for him at a quarter to eleven.

When he was woken after his six hours' sleep he felt fit for anything, and extraordinarily confident of success. He was sure that he could count on lovely Irish Sara to do her part, and that Isabella, having had nearly thirty-six hours for reflection, would have decided to come with him.

To his mind it was unthinkable that the proud Don Diego should take any course other than that of repudiating a wife who left him. A noble Spaniard of such ancient lineage would naturally wish to have an heir to succeed to his titles and estates, and he could not beget a legal one without a wife. For that, if for no other reason, he would obviously set about getting an annulment of his first marriage without delay, thus leaving Isabella free to marry again. Roger felt certain that after a little thought she would see that for herself; so he was now untroubled by any further doubts about the issue. Since she loved him, had abundant courage and could rest assured of reassuming an honour­able status within a comparatively short time, he would find her packed and ready to enter on a new and happier future as his wife-to-be.

Having eaten his meal, washed, dressed and scented himself, he came downstairs, settled his reckoning and, going outside, gave the driver of the coach careful instructions. He then had himself driven to within a few hundred yards of Isabella's home, got out and walked to a spot near the garden gate where he could keep it under observation without being seen.

To his great satisfaction, shortly after eleven o'clock, Don Diego's tall figure emerged, and the Spaniard's jaunty step was sufficient to indicate the happy errand on which he was bent. Roger watched him disappear from view, allowed a safety margin of ten minutes, then went in over the wall.

A light was burning in Isabella's bedroom, so he advanced boldly across the garden and called softly up to her. After a moment she appeared darkly silhouetted against the partly open, lighted window.

'All is well, my sweet,' he said in a low voice. 'Don Diego went off a quarter of an hour ago to keep a rendezvous with Madame Goudar. I arranged the matter with her myself, so I am certain of it; you have nothing to fear. Are Maria and Quetzal ready? I have a coach waiting. Shall I come up and help carry down your boxes?'

She shook her head and began to sob.

'What is it? Surely you are not still hesitating?' he asked in a slightly louder voice that held a tremor of uneasiness. ' 'Tis as certain as that tomorrow's sun will rise, that Don Diego will ask for an annul­ment. He must! And the Church could not refuse to grant it to him. 'Tis the only way in which he can beget himself an heir.'

'I cannot come with you, Roje!' she sobbed. 'I cannot!'

'Why?' he cried sharply, made terse by sudden desperation. 'Why not?'

'I—I cannot!' she choked out. 'I—1 love you! I would remain your mistress all my life. I would be your slave! There is nothing I would not do for you, except—except this. I—I—I already carry his child! I shall be the mother of his heir and—and 'twould be unfor­givable to deprive him of it. I cannot go with you!'

Turning suddenly she fled back into her room. Stunned for a while,

Roger stared up at the lighted oblong of the window. For him, those words of hers, 'I already carry his child,' conveyed a terrible finality. He knew now instinctively that no threats, arguments or prayers could prevail. Slowly he turned about, stumbled across the garden and climbed out over its wall.

Half an hour later Lieutenant Umberto Godolfo received him aboard the sloop Aspide. Advancing across the narrow deck the young Neapolitan spread out his hands and asked in surprise:

'But, Monsieur le Chevalier, where is the lady that you were to bring with