manner, though composed by trouble, gave no sign of the state of her
feelings; and whether she was fond of Alain or weary of him, her
self-control was equally to her credit. As for Alain, he seemed to be
stupefied, rather awaiting ruin than expecting better times.

Matters were in this state, when one lovely day in September, 1651,
Alain came before Mme. de Maufant and her sister as they sate knitting
in the doorway.

"Great news!" he cried, as soon as he was near enough for the ladies to
hear. "Great news! General Cromwell has thoroughly purged the garner. He
has beaten and scattered the Scots at Worcester. 'Tis said Charles
Stuart their king is taken prisoner. This 'crowning mercy,' as it is
called by the lord general, befel on the 3rd, the same day last year he
beat these same Scots at Dunbar. 'Tis a great and a bright day in his
lordship's life."

"Count no man happy till his end," answered Rose gravely. "A day of
triumph may be a day of doom when God pleases. And how does this event
touch us, thinkest thou, Alain?"

"Why thus," replied the young man. "The general is not a man to bear
with our lieutenant-governor's oppressions and piracies for ever. Like
Satan in the Apocalypse, Carteret hath great wrath, because he knoweth
that his time is short. For Admiral Blake hath been collecting his ships
at Portsmouth, and our informant says that they were to sail to-day,
eighty vessels of war. They carry a strong force of _fantassins_,
pikemen, and arquebussiers, with the new snaphaunces devised in the low
countries. Their commander is Major-General Haine, Prynne is there as
commissioner, and, best of all, Michael Lempriere is on board!"