54-40 or Fight eBook

Emerson Hough
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 338 pages of information about 54-40 or Fight.

A quarter of an hour later, we slowed down on a rough brick pavement, which led toward what then was an outlying portion of the town—­one not precisely shabby, but by no means fashionable.  There was a single lamp stationed at the mouth of the narrow little street.  As we advanced, I could see outlined upon our right, just beyond a narrow pavement of brick, a low and not more than semi-respectable house, or rather, row of houses; tenements for the middle class or poor, I might have said.  The neighborhood, I knew from my acquaintance with the city, was respectable enough, yet it was remote, and occupied by none of any station.  Certainly it was not to be considered fit residence for a woman such as this who sat beside me.  I admit I was puzzled.  The strange errand of my chief now assumed yet more mystery, in spite of his forewarnings.

“This will do,” said she softly, at length.  The driver already had pulled up.

So, then, I thought, she had been here before.  But why?  Could this indeed be her residence?  Was she incognita here?  Was this indeed the covert embassy of England?

There was no escape from the situation as it lay before me.  I had no time to ponder.  Had the circumstances been otherwise, then in loyalty to Elisabeth I would have handed my lady out, bowed her farewell at her own gate, and gone away, pondering only the adventures into which the beckoning of a white hand and the rustling of a silken skirt betimes will carry a man, if he dares or cares to go.  Now, I might not leave.  My duty was here.  This was my message; here was she for whom it was intended; and this was the place which I was to have sought alone.  I needed only to remember that my business was not with Helena von Ritz the woman, beautiful, fascinating, perhaps dangerous as they said of her, but with the Baroness von Ritz, in the belief of my chief the ally and something more than ally of Pakenham, in charge of England’s fortunes on this continent.  I did remember my errand and the gravity of it.  I did not remember then, as I did later, that I was young.

I descended at the edge of the narrow pavement, and was about to hand her out at the step, but as I glanced down I saw that the rain had left a puddle of mud between the carriage and the walk.

“Pardon, Madam,” I said; “allow me to make a light for you—­the footing is bad.”

I lighted another lucifer, just as she hesitated at the step.  She made as though to put out her right foot, and withdrew it.  Again she shifted, and extended her left foot.  I faintly saw proof that nature had carried out her scheme of symmetry, and had not allowed wrist and arm to forswear themselves!  I saw also that this foot was clad in the daintiest of white slippers, suitable enough as part of her ball costume, as I doubted not was this she wore.  She took my hand without hesitation, and rested her weight upon the step—­an adorable ankle now more frankly revealed.  The briefness of the lucifers was merciful or merciless, as you like.

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54-40 or Fight from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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