She sat down again in her favorite place on deck, laid her arms on the railing of the schooner and her face upon them.  Now that her errand was done, she became aware that she was very tired.  She sat so quiet that she seemed to be asleep.  But she was only in a day-dream in which the thought of which she was most conscious was wonder that Archdale could doubt Katie.  Had she not always been a coquette?  And had she not always loved him?  Yet Elizabeth wished that she could have said that Lord Bulchester had gone, wished that she could have seen Stephen Archdale’s face brighten a little before he left them, perhaps forever; she had not forgotten the danger of his post.  Nancy softly drew her chair close.  But Elizabeth made no movement.  She sat with her face still buried, thinking, remembering, longing to be at home again, counting the hours until they should probably sail.

Suddenly she started up.  For there had come light that she saw through the dark folds that she had been pressing her eyes against.  To her there was a sound as if the heavens were being rent, and she felt a trembling of the earth, as if it shook with terror at the spectacle.  She stood a moment bewildered.  It seemed as if the light never paled at all, but only changed its place sometimes; the roar was terrific, it never ceased, or lulled, and the water beneath them tossed and hissed in rage at its bed being so shaken.  Nancy’s hand sought her companion’s with a reassuring pressure, for speech was impossible.  But Elizabeth had only been unprepared.  She recovered herself and smiled her thanks.  Then she sat down again with her face toward the city and watched this cannonade, terrible to men grown grey in the service, as officers from the fleet bore witness, and to the enemy deadly.

For the fascine battery had opened fire.

At midnight General Pepperell sent for Archdale to detail him for special service the next day.

“Why! what’s the matter?” he cried, looking at the young man as he came into the tent.

“Nothing, General Pepperell.  I am quite ready for service,” replied Stephen haughtily.

“Ah!—­Yes.  Glad of that,” returned the General, and he went on to give his orders, watching the other’s pale face as he did so, and reading there strong emotion of some kind.

When he was alone, and his dispatches had all been written, he sat musing for a time, as little disturbed by the glare and the thunder about him as if stillness were an unknown thing.  His cogitations did not seem satisfactory, for he frowned more than once.  “What’s the matter with the fellow?” he muttered.  “Something has gone wrong.  I’ve seen an uneasiness for a long time.  Now the blow has fallen.  Poor fellow! he doesn’t take life easy.  The news is it, I wonder? or the letter?” He sat for a while carefully nursing his left knee, while his thoughts gradually went back to military matters, and worked there diligently.  At last he straightened himself, clapped this same