Frenchman's Creek

"At Gweek?" said Dona. "Very well then, Prue. I want you to go back to bed, and think no more of this, and to say nothing of it ever again, to anyone, not even to me. Go on as you have always done, won't you Prue, and look after the children, and love them well."

"Yes, my lady," said Prue, and she curtseyed, her tears still near the surface, and left the room, and went back to the nursery. And Dona smiled to herself in the darkness, for William the faithful was still at hand, her ally and her friend, and his master's escape from the keep had become a thing of possibility.

So she slept, her mind easier than it had been, and when she woke she saw that the listless sky had become blue again, and the clouds were gone, and there was something in the air of that midsummer that would not come again, a warmth and a brilliance belonging to the days when, careless and enraptured, she had gone fishing in the creek.

While she dressed she made her plans, and when she had breakfasted she sent word for Harry to come to her. Already he had recovered something of his former spirits, and as he came into the room he called to his dogs in his usual voice, hearty and well content with himself, and he kissed her on the back of her neck as she sat before her mirror.

"Harry," she said, "I want you to do something for me."

"Anything in the world," he promised eagerly, "what is it?"

"I want you to leave Navron today," she said, "and take Prue and the children with you."

His face fell, and he stared at her in dismay.

"But you?" he said, "why will you not come with us?"

"I shall follow you," she said, "tomorrow."

He began to pace up and down the room.

"I imagined we could all travel together, when this business is over," he protested. "They'll be hanging that fellow tomorrow in all probability. I thought of going over to see Godolphin and Eustick about it today. You'd like to see him hanged, would not you? We could fix it for nine in the morning, perhaps, and then start our journey afterwards."

"Have you ever seen a man hanged?" she said.

"Why, yes, there's little to it, I admit. But this is rather different. Damn it, Dona, the fellow murdered poor Rock, and would have killed you too. Do you mean to say you have no wish for revenge?"

She did not answer, and he could not see her face, for her back was turned to him.

"George Godolphin would think it very cool of me," he said, "to slip away without a word of explanation."

"I would do the explaining," she said. "I propose calling on him myself this afternoon, after you have gone."

"Do you mean that I should deliberately set off on the journey, without you, taking the children and the nurse, and leaving you here, all alone, with a handful of half-witted servants?"

"Exactly that, Harry."

"And if I take the carriage for the children, and ride myself, how would you travel tomorrow?"

"I should hire a post-chaise from Helston."

"And join with us at Okehampton you mean, in the evening?"

"And join with you at Okehampton, in the evening."

He stood by the window, staring moodily out into the garden.

"Oh, God damn it, Dona, shall I ever understand you?"

"No, Harry," she said, "but it does not matter very much."

"It does matter," he said, "it makes life most confounded hell for both of us."

She glanced up at him standing there with his hands behind his back.

"Do you really think that?" she said.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, damme," he said, "I don't know what I think. I only know I'd give everything in the world to make you happy, but the cursed trouble is I don't know how to, and you are fonder of James's fingernail than you are of me. What's a fellow to do when his wife doesn't love him but drink and play cards? Will you tell me that?"

She stood beside him a moment, and put her hand on his shoulder. "I shall be thirty in three weeks' time," she said. "Perhaps as I grow older, Harry, I shall grow wiser."

"I don't want you any wiser," he said sullenly, "I want you as you are."

She did not answer, and playing with her sleeve he said to her, "Do you remember, before you came to Navron, you said some nonsense or other about feeling like that bird in your father's aviary? I couldn't make head or tale of it, and I still can't. It sounded such gibberish, you know. I wish I knew what you were driving at."

"Don't think about it," she said, patting his cheek, "because the linnet found its way to the sky. And now, Harry, are you going to do what I asked you?"

"Yes, I suppose so," he said, "but I warn you, I don't like it, and I shall put up at Okehampton and wait for you. You won't delay your journey for any reason, will you?"

"No," she said. "No, I won't delay."