s
if exposed to such a storm when travelling, surrounded with all the
appliances that wealth can compass! and yet now, of her own free will,
she wended her way on foot through the darkness and the hurricane, not
only without complaining, but actually excited to a species of pleasure
in the notion of her imaginary heroism.

The courier who preceded her, as guide, enjoyed no such agreeable
illusions, but muttered to himself, as he went, certain reflections by
no means complimentary, to the whims of fine ladies; while Mademoiselle
Celestine inwardly protested that anything, "not positively wrong,"
would be dearly purchased by the dangers of such an excursion.

"Gregoire! Gregoire! where is he now!" exclaimed Lady Hester, as she
lost sight of her guide altogether.

"Here, miladi," grunted out the courier, in evident pain; "I fail to
break my neck over de stone bench."

"Where 's the lantern, Gregoire?"

"Blowed away, zum Teufel, I believe." "What 's he saying, Celestine?
what does he mean?"

But mademoiselle could only answer by a sob of agony over her capote de
Paris, flattened to her head like a Highland bonnet.

"Have you no light? You must get a light, Gregoire."

"Impossible, miladi; dere 's nobody livin' in dese houses at all."

"Then you must go back to the inn for one; we 'll wait here till you
return."

A faint shriek from Mademoiselle Celestine expressed all the terror such
a proposition suggested.

"Miladi will be lost if she remain here all alone."

"Perdue! sans doute!" exclaimed Celestiue.

"I am determined to have my way. Do as I bade you, Gregoire; return
for a light, and we'll take such shelter as this door affords in the
meanwhile."

It was in no spirit of general benevolence that Gregoire tracked his
road back to the "Russie," since, if truth must be told, he himself had
extinguished the light, in the hope of forcing Lady Hester to a retreat.
Muttering a choice selection of those pleasant phrases with which his
native German abounds, he trudged along, secretly resolving that he
would allow his mistress a reasonable interval of time to reflect
over her madcap expedition. Meanwhile, Lady Hester and her maid stood
shivering and storm-beaten beneath the drip of a narrow eave. The spirit
of opposition alone sustained her Ladyship at this conjuncture, for she
was wet through, her shoes soaked with rain, and the cold blast that
swept along seemed as if it would freeze the very blood in her hear