Book the Second - the Golden Thread
24. XXIV. Drawn to the Loadstone Rock
(continued)
That night--it was the fourteenth of August--he sat up late, and
wrote two fervent letters; one was to Lucie, explaining the strong
obligation he was under to go to Paris, and showing her, at length,
the reasons that he had, for feeling confident that he could become
involved in no personal danger there; the other was to the Doctor,
confiding Lucie and their dear child to his care, and dwelling on
the same topics with the strongest assurances. To both, he wrote
that he would despatch letters in proof of his safety, immediately
after his arrival.
It was a hard day, that day of being among them, with the first
reservation of their joint lives on his mind. It was a hard matter
to preserve the innocent deceit of which they were profoundly
unsuspicious. But, an affectionate glance at his wife, so happy and
busy, made him resolute not to tell her what impended (he had been
half moved to do it, so strange it was to him to act in anything
without her quiet aid), and the day passed quickly. Early in the
evening he embraced her, and her scarcely less dear namesake, pretending
that he would return by-and-bye (an imaginary engagement took him out,
and he had secreted a valise of clothes ready), and so he emerged
into the heavy mist of the heavy streets, with a heavier heart.
The unseen force was drawing him fast to itself, now, and all the
tides and winds were setting straight and strong towards it. He left
his two letters with a trusty porter, to be delivered half an hour
before midnight, and no sooner; took horse for Dover; and began his
journey. "For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the
honour of your noble name!" was the poor prisoner's cry with which
he strengthened his sinking heart, as he left all that was dear on
earth behind him, and floated away for the Loadstone Rock.
The end of the second book.
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