The Admiral's Daughter

person in question is a girl of seventeen, who has never even crossed the county border, and is now bound for London and moreover lives in an age when to travel thither from Co

ds she lay inert, then heaved a great sigh of content. She remembered. She threw her arms out on the

te cotton gown, with blue ribbons in

e kitchen as she crossed the hall, and ceased suddenly as she opened the kitchen door. Two of the serving girls and a

nd stared in a stupid sort of way, their great rosy hands wed

ou be a-gooin' away to London,' said one

wor a-gooin' to London, Mistress,' re

e promise of being a nine days' wonder to herself. 'Is it I?' ran her thoughts. 'Is it really I?' And if the domestics stared now, what would they do when she came back with new gowns and laces,

orld of men and women. Now she was going to see it, as Elise had said—plays, music, the Court. She smiled as

n't ni

lock. I can hear Spotty now calling to be milked. You mus

ays to she, I says: "Do ee know Mistress Marion be a-goin' to London?" And her kind of said: "'E

d Sue, if you haven't anything to do, I m

it was fortunate for them, for with her last words in came the ho

unsympathetic. The young mistress of Garth had never known what it was to be ailing. For all her delicate cheeks, she was as healthy and robust as Zora herself. She got slightly impatient about Elise's migraine, and when the sufferer emerged from her retirement, full of the petulance t

eeling as usual her impatience arise at Elise's martyr-like tones. Presently, sa

sole fare for the day, were of a generous order, and Marion thought it nothing unusual when the housekeeper told off on her fingers the items for dinner: a dish of prawns, a marrow-bone pie (and the good things that went int

d to an under-current of secret pleasure, but even that bade fair to be destroyed when she turned out the contents of her clothes chest. Her going had been settled by the Admiral for Thursday. To-day was Tuesday. There was no time even for Victoire's skilful fingers—and Victoire was better t

a what a great many things I haven't got. I don't k

onstance will find her niece fair to middling. For the rest, her father is taking her, and he has a purse heavy enow to

ain to her door, and finding she was asleep sought her own room. She seated h

r page on the step. Marion and Zacchary had ridden on either side the chariot as far as Lostwithiel, and Marion felt she would always have an affectionate memory of the fine old head thrust from the coach as she had turned her chestnut homeward. Coming back, t

ct of her aunt's house in far-away London opening inviting doors to her. How Roger had scoffed at the idea! Marion smiled and sighed in the same breath. She felt great une

words at supper had aroused. Nor could she quite forgive her. Roger had been the playmate and sole companion of her childhood for many years before Elise came to Garth. The bond of the boy-and-girl intimacy was of a far stronger nature

titches, and talked and told her stories—always of the sea; of the battles they had had concerning the riding of the colts—'You see, Mawfy,'—she could see him now, a clumsy, thick-set figure of a boy, his sturdy legs planted apart—'you haven't got a brother except me, and your father's no good at riding now, poor old man, so I've go

You look much nicer when you're smiling

ailing retort on personal questions, 'and

rsuasion on the fond mother's part. One day Marion had taken a piece of dough from Curnow's kneading-pan, and plastered it in a thick cake over the unruly patch. The dough had hardened and refused to be removed, and Roger had gone about

. And perhaps you'll be pretty some day. But I don't care if all my hair sta

er needle suspended as she stared out ove

at to do with his strength that was coming on him, given to saying and doing awkward things; with a loudly voiced scorn for girls (in Elise's pr

, and grown stouter for the opposition. That the thwarting was not good for the boy, Marion knew instinctively, as her father knew from experience, and failed not to say so to Mrs. Trevann

uietly, 'he won't do

intention of ever letting him go! You will have only yourself to thank if he flings himself hot-headed, in desperation, into some political bother. We live in sorry times, and the countr

under his rage. He had never had a son, but had fate been kinder

st in this way was of the finest mesh. Cornwall was mainly Protestant, and it was more on the grounds of dislike for a monarch who insisted on the observance of the Catholic religion, than allegiance to the youth who led the Protestant rebellion against him, that some of their numbers flocked to Monmouth's standard. The Westerners had had ample cause to rue the day before ever Judge Jeffreys set out on his tour of death. The rebellion had failed, their young lads dying with it in the marshes of Sedgemoor; and Monmouth, their hero and hope, had fled for a coward, and earned the reward of his deeds. And now their lusty cries of: 'God bless the Protestant Duke!' had given way to the silence of unreasoning fear. The country folk had not time to dry their eyes for their sons who would never return, before they were opened wide in hor

hanged, and many more sold as slaves to the Plantations, and for such lo

k Poole, who, working in a shipwright's yard at Lyme when Monmouth landed, and with plenty of enthusiasm to spare for any cause, such as smuggling or rioting, that ra

loyalty to his friends would always outride his discretion, as Mar

ide, when a quick step sounded on the

e? Curnow said she th

y where two of the stable dogs were trespassing. The youth was, as usual, hatless, and the black head was

tten that. It still stands up—always will.' The brown eyes

the hair came out. It certainly looks queer, Roger. Le

l round it, and leave it upstanding

ion in sudden contrition. 'I had

ide,' he said softly. ''Tis my last chance. I hear you are going

ly be five minutes. Will you as

downs, Marion gave one of her sudden chuckles. 'Do you remember Star

as always glad I bullied you on that sco

Marion, 'and all sorts of things came back

lasted them, with breathless intervals when the ground tempted a gallop, for close on an hour. The me

sed to breathe their horses. Marion looked across the lan

e but the spring,' she said suddenly. 'And I can't conceive

'I hate the idea of your going,' he said moodily. 'Who is going to look after you in London, and see

chance of riding, I

re brewed first of all in Whitehall.' He looked hard at his companion for a moment,

Marion lightly. 'A lo

en your Aunt Constance. What is Sir John Fairfax li

er saddle to face him. 'The point is muc

ed leading strings and

now, Roger, I have been rather unhappy about you since the other day at Poo

here,' replied the you

n lies not through Bodmin gaol. See, Rog

ooked steadily i

ul of

some foolish affair for wh

got from the Admiral that trick of turning the tabl

stir myself about pol

ng, I mean. Your father cannot stay long with you, and then you will be wi

l of herself, only conscious of the little boy grown big at her side. 'I could wish it were all over, and I were back again. I'm afraid for

s not her way to talk at ran

pens unless you let it. You had a foreboding when I went to

lence. Then Roger smiled. 'Come

'll race you to the first