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Updated: June 10, 2025
But to Coxeter it was terrible to think of what might have happened, and he had not shared in any degree the mingled amusement and admiration which the story, as told afterwards by the culpable mother, had drawn forth. In fact, so deeply had he felt about it that he had not trusted himself to speak of the matter to Mrs. Archdale. But Mrs.
Coxeter had willingly made the little sacrifice of his personal comfort, but he had felt annoyed when Mrs. Archdale in her turn had yielded the corner place with foolish altruism to a French lad exchanging vociferous farewells with his parents.
Archdale claimed Norah, and Brownie found herself looking mistily up at David Linton and he was gripping her hand tightly, the other hand on her shoulder. "Why, old Brownie!" he said. "Dear old Brownie!" They were shaking hands all round, over and over again. Nobody made any speeches of welcome there were only disjointed words, and once or twice a little sob.
"Never speak of your coming forward with your whole fortune to make up the loss that this fellow's claim will be to us? Never speak of it!" cried Archdale. "And accept it? From you? You certainly have a flattering opinion of me." "If it were like any business losses," she said, "it would be different.
Now everything was in readiness and he had ordered two hours of rest before the firing from it should begin. Nearly an hour of that had gone by before he entered his tent for the rest he needed, when almost immediately the messenger reached him. "Mr. Royal and his daughter here!" he cried. "And Mr. Royal requests to see Captain Archdale? I don't understand. But I shall hear why from them."
In consequence of which, Governor Archdale issued orders to all Indians in the British interest, to forbear molesting those under the jurisdiction of Spain. The two kings being at that time confederates, the like orders were issued at St. Augustine, and in a short time they were attended with beneficial effects.
Archdale was not only reckless of her health; she was also reckless perhaps uncaring would be the truer word of something which John Coxeter supposed every nice woman to value even more than her health or appearance, that is the curiously intangible, and yet so easily frayed, human vesture termed reputation.
Coxeter knew vaguely that Archdale had been a bad lot, though never actually unkind to his wife; nay, more, during the short time their married life had lasted, Archdale, it seemed, had to a certain extent reformed.
"That poor French boy?" Coxeter shook his head. "No, no he's all right; at least I believe he's all right. It the body I mean was that of your other neighbour;" he added, unnecessarily, "the man who made sweets." And then for the first time Coxeter saw Nan Archdale really moved out of herself.
But the very man who had spoken so doubtfully of the boats just now came forward. "You'd best hurry your lady forward, sir. There's no time to lose." There was an anxious, warning note in the rough voice. "You must go now," said Coxeter heavily. "I shall be all right, Mrs. Archdale," for she was making no movement forward. "There'll be plenty of room for the men in the next boat.
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