The Coming Conquest of England Part 40

"With your messenger of love, your postillon d'amour, who was certainly rather uncouth and awkward for so delicate a mission."

"What! did you come with Brandelaar?" cried Heideck, in surprise.

"Yes. The moment I received your letter from his clumsy sailor's fist, my mind was made up. I asked him whether he was returning to Flushing, and when he said yes, I declared he must take me with him, cost what it would. I would have paid him all I possessed, without hesitation, to take me across. But the good fellow did it for much less."

"You foolish girl!" said Heideck reprovingly. But pride in his beautiful, fearless darling shone brightly from his eyes. "I shall have to take Brandelaar seriously to task for playing so reckless a game. But what made him so long in returning?"

"I believe he had all kinds of private business to see after. And he was not the only one--I had my business too. I did not want to come to you empty-handed, my friend."

"Empty-handed? I don't understand."

"I puzzled my brains how I could please you, and appease your anger at my sudden appearance--that terrible anger, of which I felt so afraid.

And as I heard from Brandelaar that it is your duty to discover military secrets--"

"The worthy Brandelaar is a chatterer. It seems as if your beautiful eyes have tempted him to open his whole heart to you."

"And if it had been the case," she asked, with a roguish smile, "would you not have every reason to be grateful to him as well as myself? But really--you don't even know what I have brought for you. Aren't you the least curious?"

"No military secret, I suppose?"

He spoke jestingly, but she nodded seriously.

"Yes--a great secret. Chance helped me, or I should hardly have got hold of it. There it is! But be sure I shall claim an adequate reward for it."

She handed him a sealed envelope, which she had kept concealed under her dress. When Heideck, with growing excitement, spread out the paper it contained, he recognised at the first glance the blue stamped paper of the English Admiralty.

No sooner had he read the first lines than he started up in the most violent excitement. His face had become dark red, a deep furrow showed itself between his eyebrows.

"What is this?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "For G.o.d's sake, Edith, how did you come by this paper?"

"How did I come by it? Oh, that's quite a secondary consideration. The chief thing is, whether it is of any value to you or not. But aren't you pleased with it?"

Heideck was still staring like one hypnotised at the paper covered with the regularly formed writing of a practised clerk's hand.

"Incomprehensible!" he murmured. Then, suddenly looking at Edith almost threateningly, he repeated--

"How did you come by it?"

"You are questioning me like a magistrate. But you may know, for all I care. The brother of the lady with whom I was staying in Dover is private secretary to the Admiralty--a poor fellow, suffering from disease of the lungs, whose one desire was to go to Egypt or Madeira, to get relief from his sufferings. By finding him the means for this I have done an act of philanthrophy. I asked him, in return for a further present of money, to give me the copy of an important doc.u.ment connected with his department."

She suddenly broke off, and Heideck burst out into a short, sharp laugh which filled her with surprise and alarm.

"An act of philanthrophy!" he repeated in a tone of unspeakable bitterness. "Did you know what this man was selling to you?"

"He said it was the English fleet's plan of attack, and I thought it would interest you."

"But surely you must have known how far-reaching would be the consequences of your act? Had you no suspicion that irreparable harm might overtake your country, if this plan came to the knowledge of its enemies?"

His voice quivered with fearful anxiety, but Edith did not seem to understand his excitement.

"I understand you less and less," she said impatiently. "It can only be one of two things. Either this paper is of importance to you, and then you ought to feel the more grateful to me, the more important it is. Or the secretary has deceived me as to its value. Then it isn't worth the trouble of saying any more about it."

"Do you look at it in that light, Edith?" he said, mournfully. "Only in that light? Did you only think of yourself and me, when you bribed an unfortunate wretch to commit the most disgraceful of all crimes?"

"Oh, my dearest, what strong language! I was not prepared for such reproaches. Certainly I was only thinking of you and me, and I am not in the least ashamed to confess it, for there is nothing in the world of more importance for me than our love."

"And your country, Edith? is that of no account?"

"My country--what is it? A piece of earth with stones, trees, animals, and men who are nothing to me, to whom I owe nothing and am indebted for nothing. Why should I love them more than the inhabitants of any other region, amongst whom there are just as many good and bad people as amongst them? I am an Englishwoman: well, but I am also a Christian.

And who would have the right to condemn me, if the commandments of Christianity were more sacred to me than all narrow-minded, national considerations? If the possession of this paper really made you the stronger--if it should bring defeat upon England, instead of the hoped-for victory which would only endlessly prolong the war--what would mankind lose thereby? Perhaps peace would be the sooner concluded, and, justly proud of my act, I would then confess before all the world."

Heideck had not interrupted her, but she saw that her words had not convinced him. With gloomy countenance he stood before her, breathing hard, like one whose heart is oppressed by a heavy burden.

"Forgive me, but I cannot follow your train of thought," said he, with a melancholy shake of the head. "There are things which cannot be extenuated however we may try to palliate them."

"Well, then, if you think what I have done so monstrous, what is there to prevent us from undoing it? Give me back the paper; I will tear it up. Then no one will be injured by my treachery."

"It is too late for that. Now that I know what this paper contains, my sense of duty as an officer commands me to make use of it. You have involved me in a fearful struggle with myself."

"Oh, is that your logic? Your sense of honour does not forbid you to reap the fruits of my treachery, but you punish the traitress with the full weight of your contempt."

He avoided meeting her flaming eyes.

"I did not say I despised you, but--"

"Well, what else do you mean?"

"Once again--I do not despise you, but it terrifies me to find what you are capable of."

"Is not that the same thing in other words? A man cannot love a woman if he is terrified at her conduct. Tell me straight out that you can no longer love me."

"It would be a lie if I said so, Edith. You have killed our happiness, but not my love."

She only heard the last words of his answer, and with brightening eyes flung herself on his breast.

"Then scold me as you like, you martinet! I will put up with anything patiently, if only I know that you still love me, and that you will be mine, all mine, as soon as this terrible war no longer stands between us like a frightful spectre."

He did not return her caresses, and gently pushed her from him.

"Forgive me, if I must leave you now," he said in a singularly depressed voice, "but I must be in Antwerp by daybreak."

"Is it really so urgent? May I not go with you?"

"No, that is impossible, for I shall have to travel on an engine."

"And when will you return?"

Heideck turned away his face.