A Blot on the Scutcheon

softly as she bent o

er own little boudoir, with no fear of Mor

orry daring t

ght. And because, forsooth, she chose to reject

he very thought sent the angry

ing, or a nun in the Convent of the Sacred Heart, and wear ugl

song ended in a gasp of indignation, as she recalled t

d Lord D

and stained the green satin. It was most annoying, but n

t together. The colour was rising to her cheeks now, and the silk

e-well-because Lord Denningham had

heek as she told herself quite silently that she had been at the root of the quarr

ht as to how much his so-called love was worth. The memory

Mich

as so di

her fingers idle a-top of it, having

eaming of

el! M

window were singing the s

el! M

r-the only one for h

yes and hair all awry; but, as he knelt on one knee at her feet, she

e stood alone, sighing for a lover, jealous, perhaps, o

d come to

e-blooms and to be looking through a vista of young foliage to see the tall figure wh

on joy. But she had not dared to dream too tangibly of that vague, intuitive knowledge till they stood together in the moonlight and listened to the faint lap

as smiling as she looked from the window where westwards a go

that wondrous hour and light into a beauty which touched the

time to dre

came a ja

th one deadly swoop upon its little feathered victi

lle sh

ningham had kille

a lover. If so, she would never smile or scoff again at her quaint, old-maidish wa

ad that Morry and that hateful lordling were in town, but she wished Sir Stephen Berrington would be content with the Manor, or even be laid up with gout f

ough her reverie. A visi

e. "Moosoo Yay-Yay-Yay-harn de Quernais," he anno

her eyes were as brightly cu

ais!" she cried. "Why, t

childish welcome to the young man in the gree

isitor, but tall and straight, combining grace wit

re matted and tumbled. But the face beneath was handsome enough, set in a delicate mould, but strong too, with its oval co

s flashed a look of admiration and pleasure into the

that honour. A slender reason, perhaps, to excuse m

with only sufficient accen

light-hearted gaiety

how bored and weary I was becoming all alone here.

t a shaft of sunshine se

come from

ce opposite cl

tany, made

ins. You must not call me mademois

peech he was too courtly a gentleman to sho

elle continued. "Then

rom him c

e still at the Chateau K

I know so little of my Breton relations, and I have a

umour was soo

here is so much to say that I fear from

nce than this pretty little cousin who, doubtl

e knitted he

town; I am

lo

rise was

flushed

sieur, my mother died before I could toddle, and now that my father

Gabrielle? Do y

ering the long e

Lady Helmington. However, it is of you I want to talk now, Jéhan. I want to hear of madame my aunt, and your sister, and why you have come, and,

expression which ill-suit

ld back for long now," he replied. "Yo

shud

, yes! The poor, poor Queen,

A heroine, m

do your mother and sister stay in a

e, as the Marquis de l

ll about him and the Chouannerie. It made me s

e, ma cousine. I am a f

rrand? Of course, I see it now. And pe

u can help us; or, rather, it is your

r near the window. She was an angel, this beautiful English cous

holding out her hand impu

gth of the shadows or the dusk which stole grey-footed across th

to the neighbourhood. But a month ago he died. Hélas! we all mourned the good old man, and he died at a bad moment for Brittany. There have been agents from Paris around Varenac and Kérnak since, poisoning the simple minds of the villagers. The Terror, they

ai

seigneur'

d h

bably unconscious o

n that M

ieur le Marqu

is people

or the dawn. He

cid

starts on the path of murder, bloodshed, and terrorism, or wh

s silence in the darkening

ry must

three villages

ing against the knot of

ere I," she cried

cousin, you

ed heavy and li

w. Morry has

addressed Marcel Trouet

ut aside forebodings and doubts to dwell in the pleasanter atmosphere of the present. After all, Morry was half Breton

she would

he declared, nodding her pretty head. "And learn to know my au

ossi

ll, if yo

re cousine, wher

ou know, Jéhan, I have always had my own way

-fashioned ideas of what was convenable for demoiselles of birth, would say to th

now and find Giles and tell him we are ready to sup. I am hungry, although I have only been sitting here fo

he following, wondering at her freedom from bashfulness, yet admiring too, for it was

plums, whilst Jéhan de Quernais told of the tempest-lashed old

ooked in wondering horror at the doings and deeds that racked France, and refused to believe it possible that her Breton peasants cou

as perfection in his eyes, and Gabrielle could picture the slim little figure with dark tresses piled high and the pretty baby face beneath, with its bi

ughters of bette

would have wearied a less interested speaker.

rose, her hazel eyes were det

declared. "Ah! you do not know how lonely it is her

the colour flo

ps ... yes, perhaps ... it would be better

bowed to h

my cousin," he murmured, "I shall pray the saints that

perhaps, that day-that a cousin is not the sa

astly dearer all the same. If ever she went to Brittany she hoped tha

suggested-half hesitatingly-that he might ride to town that night in