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[Illustration: THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER

VOL. XX.--NO. 982.]      OCTOBER 22, 1898.      [PRICE ONE PENNY.]




[Illustration: A MOTHER'S LOVE.

    "'Can a woman's tender care
    Cease towards the child she bare?
    Yes, she may forgetful be,
    Yet will I remember _thee_.'"]

_All rights reserved_.]




"OUR HERO."

BY AGNES GIBERNE, Author of "Sun, Moon and Stars," "The Girl at the
Dower House," etc.


CHAPTER IV.

MOST UNPLEASANT TIDINGS.

"Hallo!--Keene!--Mr. Jack Keene! At your service, sir."

"Admiral! How do you? I was near giving you the go-by."

"Near running me down, you might say. Like to a three-decker in full
sail. You are going indoors? Ay, ay, then I'll wait; I'll come another
day. 'Twas in my mind that Mrs. Fairbank might be glad of a word. But
since you are here----"

"She will be glad, I can assure you. Pray, sir, come in with me. This
is a frightful blow. It was told me as I came off the ground after
parade; and I hastened hither at full speed."

"Ay, ay; that did you!" muttered the Admiral. "Seeing nought ahead of
you but the Corsican, I'll be bound."

"'Tis a disgrace to his nation," burst out Jack. "Sir, what do you
think of the step?"

"Think! The most atrocious--the most abominable piece of work ever
heard of. If ever a living man deserved to be strung up at the
yard-arm, that man is Napoleon and none other."

"It can never, sure, be carried out."

"Nay, if the Consul choose, what is to hinder?"

"Government will not give up the vessels seized."

"Give them up! Knuckle down to the Corsican! Crouch before him like to
a whipped hound! Why, war has been declared. Our Ambassador had had
his orders to come home, before ever the step was taken. Give up the
ships! Confess ourselves wrong, in a custom which has been allowed for
ages. We'll give nothing up, nothing, my dear Jack! Sooner than that,
let Boney do his best and his worst. Wants to chase our vessels of war,
does he? Ay, so he may, when they turn tail and run away. We shall know
how to meet him afloat, fast enough--no fear! With our jolly tars, and
brave Nelson at their head, there's a thing or two yet to be taught to
the First Consul, or I'm greatly in error."

The two speakers stood outside Mrs. Fairbank's house in Bath, where
they had arrived from opposite directions at the same moment. Both had
walked fast; and each after his own mode showed excitement. The older
of the two, Admiral Peirce, a grizzled veteran, made small attempt to
hide the wrath which quivered visibly in every fibre of his athletic
figure. He had usually a frank and kindly countenance, weather-beaten
by many a storm, yet overflowing with geniality. The geniality had
forsaken it this morning, and he looked like one whom an enemy might
prefer not to meet at too close quarters.

Jack Keene had, as he intimated, come straight from parade, not waiting
to get rid of his uniform; and in that uniform the young ensign looked
older than in civilian dress. Also he seemed older in this mood of
hot indignation, his light blue eyes sparkling angrily, and his brows
frowning. For once, whatever might usually be the case, he had fully
the air of a grown man. Boys became men earlier in those days than they
do in these, for the tension and stress of life were greater--albeit
railways did not exist, and telegrams had not been heard of.

"His worst!" Jack repeated, with a note of inquiry.

"He'll not go beyond a point. Don't think it. No danger to their
lives--none whatever, you understand! Only detention. That's bad
enough, but that is all. And yon pretty sister of yours, the fair
Polly, why, to be sure, and she is the betrothed of Captain Ivor."

Jack nodded. His mind had already made an excursion in that direction.

"Ay, ay. But it can't last. 'Tis a freak of Boney's. The whole
civilised world will cry out upon him. Not that he greatly troubles
his pate with what folks may say of his deeds!" added Admiral Peirce,
reflecting that the civilised world had already, for many years, been
crying out upon Napoleon, with no particular result, beyond relieving
its own feelings. "Still, my dear sir, there are limits to everything.
Yes, yes, I will come in with you. Doubtless the ladies will stand in
need of consolation."

Jack led the way, and they found a forlorn trio within. Mrs. Fairbank
knitted fast, with set jaw, and frequent droppings of stitches. Polly,
white and dismayed, had an arm round Molly, whom she was trying to
comfort, while much needing comfort herself. The news of this latest
move of the First Consul had reached them less than an hour before.

"Will Roy ever come home again? Will my papa and mamma always be
prisoners? Shall I never, never see them any more?" Molly had
questioned pitifully, too much bewildered at first even for tears. Two
days earlier a letter had arrived from Colonel Baron, with a cheerful
report of Roy's improvement; and Molly's happiness was sadly dashed by
this new complication.

"Oh, they will come back; of course they will come back," Polly assured
her again and again. "Napoleon couldn't keep them always, Molly dear.
It would be too cruel. We shall have them back by-and-by; perhaps very
soon. Ah--here comes somebody; and we shall hear more about what it all
means."

As Jack's face appeared, a cry broke from Molly. "Jack--oh, it is Jack.
Jack will tell us."

Jack was speedily down by her side, comforting her. She was small and
childish for her twelve years, and he felt himself older unspeakably,
besides being exactly like her brother; so she cried quietly, leaning
her face against his scarlet coat, while he whispered hopeful
foretellings.

"This is truly a doleful state of things, ma'am," the Admiral observed,
turning his attention first, as in duty bound, to the elder lady. "Who
could have thought it? Dear, dear me; 'tis prodigiously sad. I vow
there was never such a being as this First Consul since the world was
created. But cheer up, ma'am, and pretty Polly too. Things will come
right in time, there's no sort of doubt."

"'Tis a puzzle to us all," pretty Polly remarked, more anxious for
precise information than for general abuse of Napoleon, however well
deserved. "Is Colonel Baron indeed a prisoner? And Mrs. Baron and Roy?
And--Captain Ivor?"

"Nay; not altogether so bad as that. The First Consul may be but a few
degrees removed from a fiend, 'tis true; yet even he does not war with
women and school-boys. Mrs. Baron is surely free to return when she
will, and to bring Roy with her. 'Tis Colonel Baron and Captain Ivor
who are to be accounted prisoners of war! An atrocious deed! But being
both in His Majesty's Army, they have, I fear, no chance of getting
off. Cheer up!" as Polly's tears began to flow. "'Tis but for a while.
Just one of the chances of war; though 'tis a mighty shame it should
be so, with harmless and innocent travellers, taking their pleasure
abroad. But our Government will protest; and it may be Boney will think
better of what he has done. Eh, Jack?"

"It says, Admiral--it says, my