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An instant later she was by the stranger, kneeling, with her arms about him and her bright head against his cheek. "Jean! Dear Jean!" she was crying between tears and laughter. "We thought you were dead! We thought you were never coming back to Raincy-la-Tour!" It seemed to me that some one had struck my head a stunning blow. For an interval I stood dazed; then, painfully, my brain stirred.
I wanted to see her happy, Heaven knew, but not quite in this manner. "And he wants to thank you for all that you have done." The Duke of Raincy-la-Tour spoke to me in English that was correct, but quaintly formal, of a decided charm. "Monsieur," he said, "I offer you my gratitude. And if you will touch the hand of one concerning whom, I fear, very evil things are believed "
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