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Bertrand's, we must beg leave to go, and, if we can, to transport our readers with us, to Lady Frances Somerset's house, at Clifton. "Well, how I am to get up this hill again, Heaven knows!" said Lady Diana Chillingworth, who had been prevailed upon to walk down Clifton Hill to the Wells.
The burst of laughter which greeted this speech did something to liven the gloom which was fast settling upon the little party, and presently Mr Bertrand's voice was heard calling from the verandah "Now then, children, what are we to do until four o'clock? Do you want to go on the lake?" "It's no good, sir. We could row round it in ten minutes."
The weariness that had so grown upon him during his exile had fallen from him like a cloak. "But you do not know me at all!" he said. Mordaunt passed over the remark as if he had not heard it. "What have you come for?" he asked. "To see you, monsieur." The reply was as direct as the question. A momentary challenge shone in Bertrand's eyes as he made it. But Mordaunt remained coldly unimpressed.
"Your father was not so well known here, but he was, in Bertrand's estimation, a royal Irish gentleman. We both liked him; no one could help it. Never think hardly of him." "Why has he never cared for me? Why have I never known him?" "There was a quarrel or some unpleasantness between your uncle and him; it's an old thing."
"Never you worry for me, Mrs. Ballard. We're going down for business, and you won't see me again until we've licked the 'rebs." He held her hand awkwardly for a minute, then relieved the tension by carrying off the two baskets of apples. "I know the trees these came from," he said, and soon a hundred boys in blue were eating Bertrand's choicest apples.
Derville, though very pale, sustained Bertrand's glance of rage and astonishment without flinching. It was plain that he had steeled himself to carry through the diabolical device his revenge had planned, and the fluttering hope with which Marie had inspired Bertrand died within him.
Yet after a moment his hand came out gropingly and touched the man beside him. Mordaunt took it and held it. "You believe me?" Bertrand jerked out. "I believe you," Mordaunt answered very gravely. "You you forgive?" Painfully the question came. It went into silence. But the hand that had taken Bertrand's closed slowly and very firmly. "Et la petite la petite " faltered Bertrand.
I saw a flush rise to Bertrand's cheek, a flush as of pride and joy. And indeed, I myself rejoiced to hear the end of the tale; for it did seem as though this maiden had been persecuted with rancour and injustice, and that is a thing which no man can quietly endure to hear or see. "And how have they of Domremy behaved themselves to her since?" I asked; and Bertrand listened eagerly for the answer.
"That's so, Captain, we did have a quarrel," he said, "but I had forgotten it. It's not necessary for anybody to apologize where there's no rancor." He took Bertrand's hand in a hearty grasp, which Bertrand returned with equal vigor. Then the captain pushed his horse and rode a little ahead of them.
"Hush," she placed her finger on her lips, "he does not know," indicating me by a gesture. I was as astonished as he, but had no further anxiety. No officer would dare arrest a Princess of the Blood in such a place. "What does Mademoiselle do in Bertrand's gaming house?" "It is not for you to question, my lord," she drew herself up coldly, "I chose it. Now I would go.
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