The Westcotes | Page 4

cuts
straight across this rise, descends between the shops of the High Street,
passes the church, crosses the Axe by a narrow bridge, and climbing
again passes the iron gates of Bayfield House, a mile above the river.
So straight is it that Dorothea could keep her brothers in view from the
gates until they dismounted before their office door, losing sight of
them for a minute or two only among the elms by the bridge. Her
boudoir window commanded the same prospect; and every day as the
London coach topped the hill, her maid Polly would run with news of it.
The two would be watching, often before the guard's horn awoke the
street and fetched the ostlers out in a hurry from the "Dogs Inn" stables
with their relay of four horses. Miss Dorothea possessed a telescope,
too; and if the coach were dressed with laurels and flags announcing a
victory, mistress and maid would run to the gates and wave their
handkerchiefs as it passed.
Sometimes, too, Polly would announce a post-chaise, and the telescope
decide whether the postboys wore the blue or the buff. Nor were these
their only causes of excitement; for the great Bayfield elm, a rood
below the gates and in full view of them, marked the westward
boundary of the French prisoners on parole. Some of these were quite
regular in their walks for instance, Rear-Admiral de Wailly-Duchemin
and General Rochambeau, who came at three o'clock or thereabouts on

Wednesdays and Saturdays, summer and winter. At six paces on the far
side of the elm-- such was their punctilio--they halted, took snuff,
linked arms again and turned back. (Dorothea had entertained them
both at Bayfield, and met them at dinner in one or two neighbouring
houses.) On the same days, and on Mondays as well, old Jean Pierre
Pichou, ex-boatswain of the Didon frigate, would come along
arm-in-arm with Julien Carales, alias Frap d'Abord, ex-_marechal des
logis_--Pichou, with his wooden leg, and Frap d'Abord twisting a grey
moustache and uttering a steady torrent of imprecation--or so it
sounded. These could be counted on; but scores of others stopped and
turned at the Bayfield elm, and Polly had names for them all. Moreover,
on one memorable day Dorothea had watched one who did not halt
precisely at the elm. A few paces beyond it, and on the side of the road
facing the grounds, straggled an old orchard, out of which her brother
Endymion had been missing, of late, a quantity of his favourite
pippins--by name (but it may have been a local one) Somerset Warriors.
The month was October, the time about half-past four, the light dusky.
Yet Miss Dorothea, lingering by the gate, saw a young man pass the
Bayfield elm and climb the hedge; and saw and heard him nail against
an apple-tree overhanging the road, a board with white letters on a
black ground. When it was fixed, the artist descended to the road and
gazed up admiringly at his work. In the act of departing he turned, and
suddenly stood still again. His face was toward the Bayfield gate.
Dorothea could not tell if he saw her, but he remained thus, motionless,
for almost a minute. Then he seemed to recollect himself and marched
off briskly down the road. Early next morning she descended and read
the inscription, which ran: "Restaurant pour les Aspirants."
She said nothing about it, and soon after breakfast the board was
removed.
CHAPTER II
THE ORANGE ROOM
Some weeks later, on a bright and frosty morning in December,
Dorothea rode into Axcester with her brothers. She was a good

horsewoman and showed to advantage on horseback, when her slight
figure took a grace of movement which made amends for her face.
To-day the brisk air and a canter across the bridge at the foot of the hill
had brought roses to her cheeks, and she looked almost pretty. General
Rochambeau happened to pass down the street as the three drew rein
before the Town House (so the Westcotes always called the
Bank-office), and, pausing to help her dismount, paid her a very
handsome compliment.
Dorothea knew, of course, that Frenchmen were lavish of compliments,
and had heard General Rochambeau pay them where she felt sure they
were not deserved. Nevertheless she found this one pleasant--she had
received so few--and laughed happily. It may have come from the
freshness of the morning, but to-day her spirit sat light within her and
expectant she could not say of what, yet it seemed that something good
was going to happen.
"I have a guess," said the old General, "that Miss Westcote and I are
bound on the same errand. Her's cannot be to inspect dull bonds and
ledgers, bills of exchange or rates of interest."
He jerked his