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Updated: May 25, 2025
"And nothing in Farlingford?" inquired Barebone, gaily; but he turned, as he spoke, and glanced once more at Miriam Liston as if in some dim way the question could not be answered by any other. She was absorbed in her book again. The print must indeed have been large and clear, for the twilight was fading fast. She looked up and met his glance with direct and steady eyes of a clear grey.
Come, Barebone into the saddle." They waited, both looking at Juliette; for she had not spoken. "I wish you good luck," she said, at length, patting the neck of Colville's horse, her face wearing a little mystic smile. Thus they departed, at sunset, on a journey of which old men will still talk in certain parts of France.
I have never seen him so upset about anything, and Juliette did not seem to be able to offer him any consolation." "Back to France?" echoed Barebone, not without a tone of relief, almost of exultation, in his voice. "Will it be possible to go back there, since we have to run away from Farlingford?" "Safer there than here," replied Colville. "It may sound odd, but it is true.
"So you need not pretend any more, monsieur," she said, seeing that Barebone was wise enough to keep silence. "I do not know who you are, mon ami," she went on, in a little burst of confidence; "and, as I told you just now, I do not care. And, as to that other matter, there is no ill-will. I only permit myself to wonder, sometimes, if she is pretty. That is feminine, I suppose.
"The water seems shallow," said Barebone to the Captain. "What would you do if the ship went aground?" "We should stay there, mon bon monsieur, until some one came to help us at the flood tide. We should shout until they heard us." "You might fire a gun," suggested Barebone.
"There can only be one answer to such a proposal. But he is young. It is not when we are young that we see the world as it really is, but live in a land of dreams. Give him time." The Marquis de Gemosac was impatient, however, and was for telling Barebone more than had been disclosed to him. "There is no knowing," he cried, "what that canaille is doing in France."
"Well, she was wrong, and here I am!" was Loo's reply, with his old, ready laugh. "And here is Farlingford unchanged, and no harm done." "Why should there be any harm done?" was Sep's prompt question. Barebone was shaking hands with Miriam. "Oh, I don't know," he answered. "Because there always is harm done, I suppose."
Holy Virgin! how many times have I regretted having married such a blockhead as that. He says he cannot raise the drawbridge. To raise it three feet would be to gain three hours. So I came to get Monsieur," she pointed at Barebone with a steady finger, "who has his wits on the top always and two hands at the end of his arms." "But it is little use to raise the drawbridge," objected the Marquis.
Indeed the whole neighbourhood was present. The servant, in his faded gold lace, came in and announced with a dramatic assurance: "Monsieur de Barebone Monsieur Colville." And that difference which Dormer Colville had predicted was manifested with an astounding promptness; for all who were seated rose to their feet.
And it was at this smaller window that Colville glanced as he sat down, with a pause indicative of reluctance. Turner saw the glance and noted the reluctance. He concluded, perhaps, in the slow, sure mind that worked behind his little peeping eyes, that Loo Barebone was in the carriage in the court-yard, and that Colville was anxious to return to him as soon as possible.
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