"I shall be safe to-night," she said softly, to the child by her
side, "and I won't tell you my name, because it will not be mine
much longer. But what is yours? Tell me quick!"
"All _aboard_! Next stop One Hund' Twent'-_fifth_ Street!" some one
called, hoarsely.
Caroline looked dazed. She tried to speak sensibly, but her tongue
played tricks with her, and the tension of her feelings was too much
for her. As the girl paused a second on the platform, and the train
shuddered for its start, Caroline called above the escaping steam:
"I'm Mary Queen of Scots--I am! I am!"
The white face of Joan of Arc broke into a wavering smile.
"You dear little idiot," she called, chokingly, "I'll find you out
yet! You'll see! Good-by--God bless your Majesty."
And while she might, Caroline ran beside the window, waving her hand
at that tearful, happy face.
VIII
A WATCH IN THE NIGHT
The village clock boomed out the first strokes of eleven. Solemn and
mellow, the waves of sound flowed over the sleeping streets; the
aftertones vibrated plaintively. Caroline stirred restlessly,
tossing off the sheet and muttering in her dreams. The tears had
dried on her hot cheeks; her brows were still knitted.
"Four! Five! Six!" the big bell tolled.
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