Marguerite's thoughts flew back to him, the mysterious hero,
whom she had always unconsciously loved, when his identity was still
unknown to her. Laughingly, in the olden days, she used to call him
the shadowy king of her heart, and now she had suddenly found that
this enigmatic personality whom she had worshipped, and the man who
loved her so passionately, were one and the same: what wonder that one
or two happier Visions began to force their way before her mind? She
vaguely wondered what she would say to him when first they would stand
face to face.
She had had so many anxieties, so much excitement during the
past few hours, that she allowed herself the luxury of nursing these
few more hopeful, brighter thoughts. Gradually the rumble of the
coach wheels, with its incessant monotony, acted soothingly on her
nerves: her eyes, aching with fatigue and many shed and unshed tears,
closed involuntarily, and she fell into a troubled sleep.
CHAPTER XXI SUSPENSE
It was late into the night when she at last reached "The
Fisherman's Rest." She had done the whole journey in less than eight
hours, thanks to innumerable changes of horses at the various coaching
stations, for which she always paid lavishly, thus obtaining the very
best and swiftest that could be had.
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