istence with as much hatred as
did De Roquemaure himself. And now, now he felt sure that she knew he
was alive and was only eager to discover if he was anywhere near
them--near enough to work vengeance on them. As for the news which
would "make him happy!"--well, any scheming intriguer might endeavour
to hoodwink so simple a soldier as Boussac with such a tale as that!
He was only too thankful Boussac had had sufficient discretion not to
betray his existence to her. To have done that would be to have put
her and De Roquemaure on their guard against that return to France
which should yet be made, against that revenge which should yet be
taken.

He opened Sir George's letter now, quietly and without excitement, for
he had grown used to occasional communications at long intervals from
that gallant sailor, telling him that at present it was not in his
power to be of service to him; but as he hastily ran his eye over the
lines he uttered an exclamation of delight. They ran:

"Namesake, if you are still of the mind you were, the time
has come. There is a big muster at St. Helens, for Tourville
puts to sea to invade us. A place shall be found for you,
though maybe not in my ship. Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

CHAPTER XXI.

MAY, 1692.

None riding along the Portsmouth road that warm April night could
doubt that a great crisis was at hand. Certainly St. Georges did not
do so as couriers and messengers galloped past him toward London
calling out the news to all who cared to hear it. As he mounted
Kingston Vale two men, hastily jumping on their steeds outside "The
Baldfaced Stag," cried that they must rouse the queen even, though she
be a-bed,[7] for the Frenchman was at sea with an enormous fleet and
had been seen in the morning from the coast of Dorset; and all along
the route it was the same. Wherever he changed his horse he found
couriers setting out for London; whomsoever he passed on the road gave
him the same news. At Ripley they told him the French had landed under
the command of Bellefonds and King James--but these were rustics
drinking in a taproom--at Guildford the news was contradicted, but the
certainty of the landing taking place shortly was much believed in.
Then, at Godalming, where by now the day had come, he passed a
regiment marching as fast as might be toward the coast, and the
officer in command told him that no landing had yet been effected; at
Petersfield he heard the same; at Por