yon, who, even
now, was getting two horses ready to give the Frenchmen their chance.

After a pause Laflamme said: "She will not come here again, Carbourd?
No? Ah, well, perhaps it is better so; but I should have liked to speak
my thanks to her."

That night Marie sat by the window of the sitting-room, with the light
burning, and Angers asleep in a chair beside her--sat till long after
midnight, in the thought that Laflamme, if he had reached the Cave,
would, perhaps, dare something to see her and bid her good-bye. She
would of course have told him not to come, but he was chivalrous, and
then her blindness would touch him. Yet as the hours went by the thought
came: was he, was he so chivalrous? was he altogether true?... He did
not come. The next morning Angers took her to where the boat had been,
but it was gone, and no oars were left behind. So, both had sought
escape in it.

She went to the Cave. She took Angers with her now. Upon the wall a
paper was found. It was a note from M. Laflamme. She asked Angers to
give it to her without reading it. She put it in her pocket and kept
it there until she should see Hugh Tryon. He should read it to her. She
said to herself as she felt the letter in her pocket: "He loved me. It
was the least that I could do. I am so glad." Yet she was not altogether
glad either, and disturbing thoughts crossed the parallels of her
pleasure.

The Governor and Madame Solde first brought news of the complete escape
of the prisoners. The two had fled through the hills by the Brocken
Path, and though pursued after crossing, had reached the coast, and were
taken aboard the Parroquet, which sailed away towards Australia. It
is probable that Marie's visitors had their suspicions regarding the
escape, but they said nothing, and did not make her uncomfortable. Just
now they were most concerned for her bitter misfortune. Madame Solde
said to her: "My poor Marie--does it feel so dreadful, so dark?"

"No, madame, it is not so bad. There are so many things which one does
not wish to see, and one is spared the pain."

"But you will see again. When you go to England, to great physicians
there."

"Then I should have three lives, madame: when I could see, when sight
died, and when sight was born again. How wise I should be!"

They left her sadly, and after a time she heard footsteps that she knew.
She came forward and greeted Tryon.

"Ah," she said, "all's well with them, I know; and you were so good.