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 NOBLEMAN
 

 
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 NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 BY 
 
 JANE G. AUSTIN 
 
 AUTHOR OK " THE DESMOND HUNDRED," ETC. 
 TWENTY-FiaST EDITION 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 Ctx fiitoewDe Press, CambnDfle 
 1889
 
 Copyright, 1888, 
 BY TlCKNOR AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 Mother! For love ofthee if was begun ; 
 In thy most honored name to-day V/'j done. 
 And though all earthly cares must cease 
 In that fair land of everlasting peace, 
 Love aye is one, and they who love are one ; 
 Time cannot end what God in Time begun ; 
 And thou wilt joy e'en in thine endless rest. 
 To know thy child obeys thy last behest. 
 
 2061748
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Louis THE GRAND AND Louis THK LITTLE, i 
 
 II. PROVENCE ROSES n 
 
 III. A BLIGHT UPON THE ROSES ... 20 
 
 IV. BETWEEN Two DAYS .... 25 
 V. CAIN AND ABEL .... 33 
 
 VI. VALERIE'S CHOICE 42 
 
 VIL MOLLY 54 
 
 VIII. THE SPINNING-WHEEL .... 64 
 
 IX. MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES . . 74 
 
 X. THE CONSEQUENCES 81 
 
 XI. THE FRENCH INVASION .... 85 
 
 XII. THE ROSY DAWN 95 
 
 XIII. THE DAGGER OF REGINALD DE MONTAR 
 
 NAUD 102 
 
 XIV. MRS. HETHERFORD TAKES PITY ON MARY, 1 10 
 XV. THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER . . . . 116 
 
 XVI. THE SEARCH-WARRANT .... 127 
 
 XVII. AND VALERIE? 134 
 
 XVIII. DR. SCHWARZ 142 
 
 XIX. LOYALISM AND LOYOLAISM ... 15! 
 
 XX. THE DOCTOR PROBES A LITTLE ... 157 
 
 XXI. THE JOY OF MEETING . . * . . 160
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 XXII. AND THE PAIN OF PARTING . . .171 
 
 XXIII. THE BETROTHAL 179 
 
 XXIV. GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS . . 190 
 XXV. THE WHOLE TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT 
 
 THE TRUTH 201 
 
 XXVI. THE MAIL-BAG OF THE " CIRCE" . . 209 
 XXVII. THE BUNCH OF GRAPES . . . .221 
 
 XXVIII. DAME TILLEY'S LEG 233 
 
 XXIX. THE DARK HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN 237 
 
 XXX. A BRIDAL PROCESSION .... 247 
 
 XXXI. THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR .... 254 
 
 XXXII. A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE . 263 
 
 XXXIII. THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE . . 268 
 
 XXXIV. THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL . 275 
 XXXV. THE DOCTOR'S DVESSING-ROOM ... 283 
 
 XXXVI. DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP . 293 
 
 XXXVII. A CRUCIAL TEST 302 
 
 XXXVIII. THE "BELLE ISLE" 316 
 
 XXXIX. MARQUISES ARE UNLUCKY TO ME . . 324 
 
 XL. MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT ... 328 
 
 XLI. LETTER FROM THE ABBE DESPARD . . 340 
 
 XLII. ON BURYING-HILL 343 
 
 XLIII. A PROVENCE Ross ... . 349 
 
 XLIV. WHEN THE FOG LIFTED .... 354 
 
 XLV. GOOD-BY. . t68
 
 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LOUIS THE GRAND, AND LOUIS THE LITTLE. 
 
 THE Montespan is in great beauty to-night," said 
 the Marquis de Vannes to the Comte de Cha- 
 blais, as the two stood waiting with all the rest of the 
 world for the entrance of the royal party. It was the 
 grand gallery of Versailles where they stood ; and 
 from the lofty ceiling the grim warriors depicted there 
 by LeBrun looked down in surly admiration upon the 
 beauties of the world, so notably assembled at the 
 French court during the first half of the reign of 
 Louis XIV. ; for Anne of Austria, always a Spaniard, 
 loved to see herself surrounded by the dark eyes and 
 to hear the lisping accents of her native land ; nor did 
 she fail to encourage her poor, timid daughter-in-law 
 in the same tastes, if, indeed, Maria Theresa can be 
 said to have had any thing so decisive as a taste, ex- 
 cept in the direction of chocolate. Differing subtly 
 from the Spaniards, and yet resembling them in race- 
 marks, came a troop of Italy's fairest and best-bom,
 
 2 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 following the Mancinis and Martinozzis, all hoping for- 
 tune and preferment from Mazarin. Poor, charming, 
 doomed Henrietta of England was the magnet of a 
 bevy of fair aristocrats, whose blonde loveliness con- 
 trasted, to their mutual advantage, with the brown 
 beauties of Spain, Italy, and France, and surpassed in 
 refinement that of the Germans who had already 
 appeared at the court of France, heralding, perhaps, 
 the advent of their queer countrywoman, the second 
 Duchess of Orleans. But we return to the two gal- 
 lants, themselves no mean personages at court, who 
 stood discussing the scene with the gay cynicism of 
 their age. 
 
 "In beauty, yes," replied De Chablais, glancing 
 across the gallery at the Marquise de Montespan, who 
 stood surrounded by flatterers, rivals, imitators, ene- 
 mies, every thing but friends : " she looks as content 
 as the cat who has just lapped up the cream, and is 
 still singing jubilate over the fall of poor dear La 
 Valliere." 
 
 "Don't be uncharitable, man cher" replied De 
 Vannes maliciously. "Madame de Montespan was 
 the friend of the Duchess de la Valliere, and proved 
 it by dragging an earthly crown from between her 
 hands and giving her an heavenly one instead. No 
 doubt Sister Louise de la Misricorde feels deeply 
 grateful." 
 
 " Oh, of course ! especially as this devoted friend 
 prevents any danger of a lapse from grace by herself 
 monopolizing the peril formerly shared by both." 
 
 " While the widow Scarron meekly offers herself as a
 
 THE GRAND AND THE LITTLE LOUIS. 3 
 
 monument of pious peace set in the very whirlpool of 
 these contending passions." 
 
 Monsieur de Chablais turned, and looked keenly at 
 his friend, then breathlessly asked, 
 
 "What do you say, De Vannes? Surely this prude 
 of a gouvcrnantc will not presume to supersede her 
 mistress, -as her mistress did her friend and equal ! " 
 
 " If by mistress you mean Madame de Montespan, 
 my friend, I beg to contradict you. Madame de 
 Maintenon, as we are now to style the widow Scarron, 
 is the governess, not of Madame de Montespan's chil- 
 dren, but of the king's." 
 
 " A distinction, I perceive ; but where is the differ- 
 ence ? " 
 
 " The difference of serving a master or a mistress." 
 
 " I perceive ; but allow me to observe it is a danger- 
 ous bon-mot, since that master is also our master, and 
 possesses sharp ears, keen eyes, and remarkably long 
 arms." 
 
 "All which will presently exercise themselves, unless 
 he is the more careful, upon that handsome youth 
 devoting himself so frankly to the fair marquise." 
 
 " I see. He seems about to devour her bodily, and 
 she conquers in his behalf that timid and shrinking 
 reserve we all recognize as her distinctive charm. 
 Who is he?" 
 
 "Son of that poor old Count de Montamaud, I 
 believe." 
 
 "What, the courtier of King Clovis? Is he still 
 extant?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! and is forever in the king's path, asking
 
 4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 him to make this boy generalissimo of the French 
 army." 
 
 "Is that all? The young fellow is making out a 
 better road to advancement for himself, if he plays his 
 cards well." 
 
 " If the king surprises him making eyes at madame, 
 he is likely to be advanced with a vengeance, 
 advanced to the front ranks of the next forlorn-hope, 
 against some Dutch city with an unpronounceable 
 name." 
 
 "Gentlemen, gentlemen! the king!" announced 
 an usher passing in front of the speakers, who immedi- 
 ately fell back into the formal line adopted by the 
 courtiers about to be passed in review by the mon- 
 arch, at this moment appearing in the folding-doors 
 thrown open at his approach. A slight murmur of 
 adulation and delight replaced the busy hum of con- 
 versation in the grande galerie, a sort of courtly para- 
 phrase of the song issuing from the lips of Memnon 
 as the first rays of morning sunlight touched them ; 
 and then Louis, followed by several members of the 
 royal family, passed slowly down the hall, pausing at 
 almost every step to address now one and then anoth- 
 er of the rustling and glittering ranks of courtiers, who 
 bent before his look as a parterre of tulips ben:ls 
 before the west wind. 
 
 " Did ycu mark the glance his Majesty shot at the 
 Montespan and her new breloque?" murmured De 
 Vannes to De Chablais without turning his head. " I 
 would not be in the shoes of that captain of cavalry 
 for something, unless the marquise puts him in her 
 pocket before his Majesty reaches that spot."
 
 THE GRAND AND THE LITTLE LOUIS. 
 
 "My Barbary horse against your Damascus sword 
 that she don't, and that Montarnaud is either ban- 
 ished, imprisoned, or punished in some manner." 
 
 " Done, although I shall lose my sword." 
 
 "You will if he does." And as the long's sonorous 
 and measured accents drew nearer, the courtiers be- 
 came mute and expectant. 
 
 It was in fact true, that the Grande Monarque, who, 
 like all potent rulers, had microscopic as well as tele- 
 scopic powers of vision, had, upon his first entrance 
 into the hall, singled his favorite from among the glit- 
 tering throng, and at once perceived that she was 
 carrying on one of those audacious and sudden flirta- 
 tions which some women toss off as others do a glass 
 of champagne, or a full inhalation of volatile salts, 
 a brief exhilaration and stimulus, only fitting them for 
 more serious and systematic efforts in some other 
 direction. 
 
 Already the stimulus told ; for never had Madame de 
 Montespan looked more magnificently handsome than 
 to-night, with her great dark eyes overflowing with bril- 
 liancy, her cheeks and lips burning with color, her 
 wonderful hands and arms showing like those of a 
 statue against the garnet-colored velvet of her robe, 
 her shoulders and bust rising invincible from a sea-foam 
 border of priceless lace. Arms and bosom and head 
 glittered with the jewels this woman loved so much 
 better than she did soul or honor, and which her royal 
 tover lavished upon her- with such princely munifi- 
 cence that she boasted of owning a richer collection 
 than any queen could claim as private property. To
 
 6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 be sure, they were not all paid for in that reign ; but 
 the bill was brought in to Louis XVI. about a cen- 
 tury later, and he, poor scapegoat, settled for all. 
 
 Yes, the Montespan was in great beauty to-night ; 
 and so evidently thought the handsome young man in 
 the uniform of a captain of cavalry, who stood beside 
 her, devouring her with his bold black eyes, and bend- 
 ing more confidentially than deferentially to catch the 
 words murmured for his ear alone. At the entrance 
 of the king he drew himself up, and made a move- 
 ment of adieu : but the marquise, not appearing to 
 notice the gesture, continued the conversation in a yet 
 more familiar tone ; and the Vicomte de Montarnaud, 
 bred in the school of reckless gallantry, whether of 
 love or war, so popular in that day, followed her lead 
 without further hesitation or comment, so that in point 
 of fact a more patient and humble man than Louis 
 Dieu-donn might have felt a little annoyed at the 
 slight to himself involved in this absorbing interest in 
 another, displayed by his haughty mistress. A slight 
 but ominous frown gathered upon the Olympian brow ; 
 and the courteous phrases scattered hither and thither 
 among the expectant crowd by the " lips of fate," as 
 some people called the royal mouth, grew scanter and 
 more mechanical, so that several courtiers, not sure of 
 favor, skilfully contrived to melt away behind their 
 companions, preferring not to risk the compliments 
 their royal master was quite capable of bestowing 
 when in an ill humor. 
 
 Suddenly the king's eyes lightened wrathfully, and 
 yet unaccountably; for the figure upon which they
 
 THE GRAND AND THE LITTLE LOUIS. / 
 
 rested was as harmless an one as could be imagined, 
 and surely a very familiar one, for the Comte de Mont- 
 arnaud had been longer at court by many years than 
 Louis himself. An old man, wigged, painted, padded, 
 decrepit, and courtly, a man whose face nature 
 had made handsome and noble, and seventy years of 
 court life had rendered insignificant, crafty, and crin- 
 ging. As he perceived that the king would address 
 him, the wizened face lighted with servile joy, and the 
 poor old back bent in a bow so profound that one 
 knew not whether to fear the vertebrae should become 
 dislocated or the peruke tumble off; misfortunes about 
 equal, since one meant death, and the other the royal 
 displeasure. Before either danger was fully overpast 
 the king spoke coldly and haughtily : 
 
 "Monsieur de Montarnaud, you asked permission 
 some time since to marry your eldest son to Mademoi- 
 selle de Rochenbois, your ward." 
 
 " I had thought of it, your Majesty ; but, when your 
 Majesty deigned to remark that you did not like your 
 officers to marry too young, I relinquished " 
 
 " I withdraw my opposition, and permit the mar- 
 riage. Nay, more : as you have been a faithful servant 
 of my august father as well as of myself, the marriage 
 may take place in the royal chapel ; and we shall see 
 if some position about the court can be found for the 
 bride, who will remain here while the vicomte returns 
 to his duty. Where is she now ?" 
 
 " At the Chateau de Montarnaud, your Majesty." 
 
 " In Provence, I believe." 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, near Marseilles."
 
 8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Ah, near Marseilles ! And what family have you 
 there, Monsieur le Comte? You are a widower, I 
 believe.' 
 
 " Since fifteen years, your Majesty. My family con- 
 sists, besides my ward, of only two sons." 
 
 "Two? where is the other? I never heard of him." 
 
 " Oh ! your Majesty, he is but a boy yet, hardly 
 twenty years old, and still with his tutor. He inherits 
 a little property from his mother, and with it the title 
 of le Baron de " 
 
 "But where is he, I ask? At Montarnaud, near 
 Marseilles, with Mademoiselle de Rochenbois ? " 
 
 "Yes, your Majesty," replied the poor old courtier, 
 feeling that the prolonged conversation, which at first 
 had overwhelmed him with delight, was assuming a 
 tone of menace and aggression any thing but indica- 
 tive of royal favor to the house of Montarnaud. Nor 
 was the king's parting speech calculated to assuage 
 the cruel forebodings of the old man's heart ; for, with 
 a very pronounced sneer upon his Austrian lips, Louis 
 passed on, saying, 
 
 " Really, Monsieur de Montarnaud, you are a man 
 of resource. Since it was not permitted to marry 
 ) our elder son to this wealthy ward, you shut her up 
 in a country-house with the younger one, trusting to 
 the chapter of accidents for a marriage, public or pri- 
 vate, before there should be time to prevent it. I 
 shall, however, expect to receive Madame la Vicom- 
 tesse de Montarnaud, nee de Rochenbois, within the 
 month." 
 
 "Your Majesty shall be obeyed," stammered the
 
 THE GRAND AND THE LITTLE LOUIS. Q 
 
 count, trembling upon his infirm legs as the chill 
 breath of the royal displeasure swept over his head, 
 like the first frost of autumn over the parterre of 
 tulips, to which but now we likened the ranks of 
 courtiers. 
 
 Passing on, the king reached the station of the 
 marquise and her coterie; and while graciously ac- 
 knowledging her careless salute, and the profound rev- 
 erences of her companions, he gayly said to the 
 former, 
 
 "Madame, by the pleased expression upon this 
 young gentleman's face, I suspect that you are con- 
 gratulating him upon his approaching marriage and 
 the already renowned beauty of his bride." 
 
 A slight and angry color rose to the haughty 
 beauty's brow ; and turning her eyes upon the startled, 
 almost alarmed, face of the young man, she coldly 
 said, 
 
 "Monsieur had not informed me of his happiness." 
 
 " His Majesty is pleased to jest. I am not so un- 
 fortunate as to be in bondage as yet," stammered the 
 captain of cavalry, divided between the impossibility 
 of contradicting the king or of speaking to any one 
 else in his presence, and the desire to retain his place 
 in the favor of the imperious beauty, to whom he had 
 just vowed to carry her colors triumphantly through 
 the next battle in which he should be called to en- 
 gage, and of whom he had begged and obtained per- 
 mission to present himself at her apartments the next 
 day, and there receive from her own hands the scarf 
 to be thus borne. And although neither the social nor
 
 IO A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 the moral code of those days, nor above all the co.le 
 Montespan, objected to the devotion of anybody's 
 husband to anybody else's wife, it was nevertheless, aa 
 both the marquise and her admirer felt, a little out of 
 taste that a man should in the same breath ask per- 
 mission of the king to marry a charming young girl, 
 and of the king's mistress to carry her colors through 
 the wars. 
 
 Louis glanced from the one face to the other, and 
 took a pinch of snuff with uncommon zest 
 
 "The good news is nevertheless true, monsieur," 
 said he, in his most debonnaire and gracious tone. " I 
 love to reward the good soldiers who win so many 
 laurels for me ; and, as monsieur your father tells me 
 your heart is set upon this marriage, I have consented, 
 not only that it shall take place in the royal chapel, 
 but that Madame de Montarnaud shall be entertained 
 at court during your absence in the approaching cam- 
 paign in Holland. The nuptials may be, I fear, a little 
 hurried ; but you shall have permission to fly to Mont- 
 arnaud at the earliest possible hour to-morrow." 
 
 The king passed on ; Madame de Montespan stifled 
 a yawn, and turned her back upon the young man, 
 who with a brow as black as night made his way to 
 tne lower end of the hall, where his father awaited him 
 with a pale and frightened face.
 
 PROVENCE ROSES. II 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PROVENCE ROSES. 
 
 rwas a garden deep in the heart of Provence, 
 Provence the fair, Provence the intoxicating, 
 Provence of the Provengals, neighbor of Languedoc 
 and Dauphiny ; that region redolent of the traditions 
 of poet and troubadour, of the court of Love and 
 Beauty, of Blondel and his lion-master, of the dear, 
 prolix, impossible, inconsequent romances that drove 
 Don Quixote mad, but whose flavor, like a drop of 
 attar, has been found sufficient to perfume half the 
 more modern works of fiction. 
 
 It was a garden innocent of the chilling and formal 
 science just coming into vogue in France under the 
 auspices of Le Notre, the impress of whose style is 
 still to be seen, not only in the gardens of Versailles, 
 but all over France, and even England ; a garden left 
 very much to Nature, who, sweet prodigal, in this her 
 beloved summer land, had pleased herself by heaping 
 together in this little hidden nook a wealth of color 
 and perfume, of riotous bloom, of glowing sunlight 
 and alluring shadow, of food for every sensuous ca- 
 pacity of eye and ear, and that subtlest of senses, the 
 sense of smell, enough in this one garden to gild all 
 Switzerland with a charm her grandeur has never at- 
 tained.
 
 12 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 The place was old and irregular, and succeeding 
 generations of Montarnauds had left the impress of 
 their taste in now a dense mass of evergreen forming a 
 background to a great clump of gorgeous bloom ; now 
 a fountain, again an arbor, a winding labyrinth leading 
 to a hidden nook of shaded and perfumed rest ; again 
 a broad, glowing expanse of massed flowers, geranium, 
 salvia, calceolaria, hydrangea, dahlias, every thing that 
 is positive and imperious of color and form, all welter- 
 ing in the thick yellow sunshine that seemed to sink 
 into every open pore like wine into the lips of a thirsty 
 man ; around these lay borders of pansy and mignon- 
 ette, and all that is fragrant and unobtrusive, and ready 
 to lend perfume to the beauty of their soulless neigh- 
 bors ; and anon broad ribbons of tulip-beds, and trel- 
 lises where passion-flower and jasmine and scarlet 
 cypress climbed tumultuously over each other to the 
 very topmost hold, and then waved their long slender 
 arms hither and yon in the effort to grasp at something 
 more. Lilies were there, queen lilies such as the Angel 
 of the Annunciation bears, their milk-white chalices 
 powdered with the gold-dust of promise ; lilies of the 
 valley at their feet ; lilies from Japan, that land still 
 locked in mystery, yet flinging from her half-opened 
 door this or that object of art and wonder to the 
 French who stood knocking, louis d'or in hand ; lilies 
 of Palestine, Solomon lilies, flaunting beneath the 
 Provencal sun robes whose marvel was selected as the 
 type of gorgeous apparel by Him who was born among 
 their glory. And the roses ! at the roses we pause : 
 for he who has not seen Provence roses in Provence
 
 
 PROVENCE ROSES. 13 
 
 knows not the meaning of those five letters, knows 
 not why the rose is queen of flowers, knows not why 
 the rose is the type of love, knows not why the dear 
 old mediaeval legend changed Bohemian Elizabeth's 
 hidden charity to roses rather than to another flower. 
 The color, oh the impossible color ! for the heart of 
 the summer pulsated in its glow, the soul of the sun 
 burned in its intensity, the deep rich light permeated 
 every vein of the petals sumptuous in their substance, 
 and marvellous in their size. No, no ! we cannot 
 describe the roses of Provence : but they are there, 
 and you may see them ; pass by Paris, and go, if you 
 are wise. 
 
 Besides the evergreens, the olive, the pepper-trees, 
 the ilex, the flowers, and the labyrinth, there were the 
 birds who made bridal journeys from all the rest of 
 France to this garden ; the butterflies who floated over 
 the flower-beds like blossoms detached and drawn 
 upward by the sun-god ; and there was Valerie ! Va- 
 lerie, who all day long flitted through the garden, 
 embodying flower, and bird, and butterfly, and Prov- 
 encal summer, all in her own mignonne figure ; Valerie 
 who loved them all, and was beloved by all, and had 
 feasted all her life upon their beauty, and whose 
 beauty was a feast and daily food to them. A slip 
 of a girl, hardly seventeen : lissome as a passion-flowei 
 vine ; her clear skin pale and dark with the passionate 
 colorless glow of the South, her purple-black hair 
 hanging in two shining braids from a head fit to be 
 modelled for Hebe ; her smooth, low forehead based by 
 two straight black brows, beautiful and threatening as
 
 I4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 a just-defined thunder-cloud; her great lustrous eyes 
 full of slumberous passion, full of the joy of happy girl- 
 hood full of pride and courage, and with a power of 
 pathos nascent in their depths which the birds and the 
 butterflies and the roses had never yet seen called out, 
 had never demanded or dreamed of. But her mouth 1 
 there was perhaps the keystone of Valerie's beauty. 
 Yes, the petals of the roses were velvety, and pul- 
 sating with fire, were of a color impossible to define 
 or reproduce, were fragrant, and delicious to the 
 touch ; but the rose-leaves were not alive, they did 
 not curve, and pout, and suddenly part in dazzling 
 smiles above little pearls of teeth : they were not the 
 lips of Valerie, nor could they by movement produce 
 those little wells of mirth and caresses, and possible 
 tears, the fossettes, the dimples which came and went 
 as Valerie smiled. It was after all the mouth, Fran- 
 cois said to himself as he stood gazing at her while 
 she played with El Moro her Spanish greyhound, 
 forcing him to eat the purple and amber grapes she 
 pulled from the vine above her head, while she sat 
 throned upon a seat formed in the lowest branches 
 of an oak near the borders of the garden. Flecks of 
 sunlight pierced the foliage and lay like golden orna- 
 ments upon the whiteness of her dress, glowed in the 
 ruby bracelet upon her arm, and lighted the dusky 
 masses of her hair to purple sheen. Yes, it was her 
 mouth, that mouth whose coy kisses had grown so 
 rare within the last year, but had become so much 
 more precious than the soulless caresses of childhood. 
 Last night, when they quarrelled and were reconciled, 
 she kissed him twice, and
 
 PROVENCE ROSES. 15 
 
 "Well, Monsieur le Baron," broke in the ringing 
 roice of Valerie, "are you envying El Moro his feast, 
 or axe you composing a Latin poem for your tutor, or 
 have you gone to sleep? You stand there leaning 
 against that tree, and looking at me as if you never 
 had seen me before." 
 
 " Perhaps I wish I never had," replied Francois a 
 little moodily, as he sauntered across the space of sun- 
 light between the cork-tree and the oak, and stood 
 leaning against the latter, his arm resting upon the 
 footstool of the rustic seat. 
 
 " Perhaps you, there, run away, mon Moro : run 
 and catch a cricket to take the flavor of the grapes out 
 of your mouth, perhaps you wish you had never seen 
 me, Francois? And why ? " 
 
 She leaned one cheek upon her hand, as she 
 stooped smiling toward him, and the other hand rested 
 lightly and caressingly upon his head. He caught it 
 in his own, and, raising his face, looked long and 
 ardently up into hers. And it is a pity some great 
 painter had not been hidden among the roses to catch 
 that picture, and make himself immortal by it ; for the 
 baron Francois was as nearly handsome as a manly 
 man should be, and had inherited from his Norman 
 mother all the high and haughty characteristics of her 
 race, the cold, clear eyes, blue as steel, and betimes 
 as trenchant and as cruel, the fair complexion, proud, 
 thin-lipped mouth, and tawny golden hair. His fig- 
 ure, too, differed largely from the delicate elegance 
 lapsing into sensuous roundness of his Provencal sires, 
 and was tall, large-boned, powerful, and soldierly, like
 
 !6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 those companions who followed William the Conquerei 
 to the field of Hastings. But just now the steely 
 eyes were dim with tender fears, and the severe mouth 
 was tremulous with loving words ; and the hand fit to 
 wield a battle-axe was clasped in timid constraint over 
 the tiny fingers of the Provencal girl, as he slowlj 
 answered : 
 
 "Because, if you do not love me, and love me 
 always, you will be the misfortune of my life." 
 
 "What, I, little I? I who can never learn the fine 
 things you and the abbe" try to teach me ? Little frivo- 
 lous, childish I, who am fit for nothing but to play with 
 El Moro, and pelt Mademoiselle Salerne with roses, 
 and tease old Marie's life out, and sing chansons to 
 my guitar, and " 
 
 " And make the joy of my poor life, Valerie." 
 
 " I again? What ! poor little I, the present joy and 
 possible misfortune of life to so very grave and learned 
 a youth as Francois, le Baron de " 
 
 " Francois, the lover of Valerie ! " interposed the 
 young baron, catching in his own the other little hand, 
 and covering them both with kisses, beneath whose 
 breath a dusky crimson crept slowly up into the girl's 
 cheek, and lighted its pallor as fire shows through 
 cream-white porcelain. 
 
 "Mamzelle ! Mamzelle Valerie ! Ma petite \ where 
 then, do you hide ? Answer, for the love of the Virgin i 
 Mamzelle, I say ! " 
 
 " Now what does Marie want, do you suppose ? " 
 exclaimed Marie's nursling, in a tone of comic vexa- 
 tion. "Has she found another egg in my canary
 
 PROVENCE ROSES. 1 7 
 
 bird's nest? or has the cat turned over in her sleep? 
 or oh, horrors ! has she discovered the fearful rent I 
 made in my new dress last night, by running against a 
 rose-bush in the dark? Now that was your fault, 
 Francois, and " 
 
 " Here she is ! I was just going to propose escap- 
 ing into the labyrinth ; but it is too late. Well, Marie, 
 here is Mademoiselle Valerie." 
 
 "So I ^ee, Monsieur le Baron," panted the old 
 woman, holding on to her fat sides, and casting re- 
 proachful glances up into the tree, where Valerie's 
 bright and glowing face laughed down at her. 
 
 " If you had but answered me, mademoiselle, you 
 would have had the news sooner." 
 
 " And saved your poor old legs, nursey," replied the 
 child with a burst of tinkling laughter. " Well, now 
 you have found me, what is it ? Has the king come to 
 ask me to marry monseigneur the dauphin ? He is a 
 thought young for me, but still " 
 
 "You might have guessed farther afield, my pop- 
 pet," replied the nurse with a sagacious nod of the 
 head ; " for it is, if not the king, one of the king's 
 gentlemen ; and, as for his errand, who knows?" 
 
 " One of the king's gentlemen ! What do you 
 mean, nurse?" demanded Francois, turning so sud- 
 denly that the old woman uttered an affected little 
 slirick. 
 
 " Mercy, Monsieur le Baron ! you need not eat me 
 up alive with your sharpr way* so like madame the 
 comtesse, whom you do not remember." 
 
 And Marie crossed herself with a very expressive
 
 1 8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 shake of the head, as if she were not sorry that the 
 Norman countess was at rest and quiet. 
 
 "But who is it? Speak, will you, you provoking 
 creature?" demanded Valerie petulantly, as she put 
 one foot down to the lower branch of the tree in 
 preparation for descent. 
 
 "Well then," replied the old woman with evident 
 enjoyment of the consternation she was about to 
 evoke, " well, then, Monsieur le Comte has arrived, 
 and with him Monsieur le Vicomte Gaston." 
 
 " My father and Gaston ! " exclaimed Francois in 
 great astonishment ; while Valerie sprang lightly to the 
 ground, and passed her hand over her hair, adjusted 
 her necklace and bracelets, and plumed herself like a 
 bird. 
 
 "Yes, as I tell you, and here they are," replied 
 Marie, pointing to the terrace leading down from the 
 chateau, where now appeared the mean and insignifi- 
 cant figure of the Comte de Montarnaud, his handsome 
 scowling son Gaston, and two or three attendants, the 
 latter apparently offering explanations and apologies 
 which the count waved impatiently and contemptu- 
 ously aside. 
 
 "Valerie 1 " murmured Francois, as the two hastened 
 to meet the new-comers ; and Marie kept as close as 
 possible upon their heels, not to lose the explanation 
 and possible scene impending, 
 
 "Valerie, I am sure that ill fortune is upon us. 
 Promise me that you will always love me; promise 
 that you will never marry another man ; promise " -~ 
 
 " Oh > hush > Francois ! you make me nervous with
 
 PROVENCE ROSES. IQ 
 
 your tragic air, and your ' Promise, promise ! ' Who 
 speaks of marrying anybody? See, your father is 
 already frowning at you ; hold up your head, and look 
 like a man instead of a schoolboy. How handsome 
 Gaston has grown ! " 
 
 " Frivolous and trifling ! " muttered Francois bit- 
 terly, and he dropped a step behind his companion, 
 who ran eagerly forward, both hands extended, eyes 
 and lips bright with smiles, exclaiming joyfully, 
 
 "Ah, monsieur my god-papa, how glad we are tc 
 receive you ! Monsieur Gaston also ! But why did 
 not you let us know that you were coming? We 
 would have received you more worthily." 
 
 "Truth to tell, mademoiselle," replied the count, 
 whose brow showed a decided cloud, "the chateau 
 seems but carelessly kept, considering it holds so rare 
 a treasure as yourself. I found Monsieur l'Abb6 Des- 
 pard, my son's tutor, confessing Mademoiselle Sa- 
 lerne, my ward's governess, while their two charges 
 were hidden, who knows where ? "
 
 20 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A BLIGHT UPON THE ROSES. 
 
 Ab he master of the house thus publicly pro- 
 ouimed his discontent with his reception, a 
 saiall tumult of defence arose from the parties ac- 
 cused. The abbe", a handsome young priest, whom 
 Francois had for a considerable period governed as 
 he would, bowed humbly and exclaimed, 
 
 "Pardon, a thousand pardons, monsieur, but" 
 while Mademoiselle Salerne the governess, an equally 
 good-looking young woman with whom Valerie seldom 
 had any trouble since she had clearly established their 
 relative positions, clasped both hands, bent her knee 
 as if about to prostrate herself, and shrieked, 
 
 " But can monsieur suspect me of neglect of duty ! 
 Me ! Oh, no, no ! never, it can never be ; for made- 
 moiselle will explain, that we had but just now finished 
 our lessons, and " 
 
 "Of course, Salerne," interposed Valerie, with 
 good-humored contempt, " of course monsieur un- 
 derstands that you are all which is faithful and trust- 
 worthy; and if I am idle, and like to rest in the 
 garden rather than to work in the house, it is my own 
 fault." 
 
 "Or mine, since I asked you to come out this after-
 
 A BLIGHT UPON THE ROSES. 21 
 
 noon, not supposing that my father intended that I 
 should be kept at my task like a schoolboy, now that 
 I am old enough to wear a sword, and " 
 
 " There, there, there, there ! " exclaimed the count, 
 raising both hands to his ears : " I had no idea of 
 rousing such a hornet's nest by my idle remark. 
 Mademoiselle, let me lead you to the house." And, 
 offering his hand to Valerie with all the stately dignity 
 of the court, he led her on between the beds of roses, 
 which seemed 'Suddenly to lose their color and their 
 fragrance, and up the broken, shallow steps to the 
 terrace, and so into the old chateau, with its sparse 
 and antique furniture, its mouldering tapestries and 
 tarnished gildings ; for the counts of Montarnaud 
 had spent many a fair fortune coming to them in the 
 hand of the heiresses they loved to marry, spent it in 
 war, sometimes for and sometimes against their liege 
 lord, the king ; spent it in mad revelry, in gaming, in 
 luxury, in every form of self-delight, until when Raoul, 
 the present count, came to his dignities, he found 
 them so shorn of the means of maintenance that he 
 had spent very nearly all of what remained in dancing 
 attendance first at the court of Louis XIII., that is to 
 say, at the court of Cardinal Richelieu, and then at 
 that of the Regent Anne of Austria, that is to say, at 
 that of Mazarin. Finally he was at present bending 
 his aged knees at the shrine of the young King Louii 
 XIV., who, so far from being the shadow of a prime 
 minister, had given to the ministers, who desired to 
 know upon the death of Mazarin to whom they were 
 to apply for orders, the truly royal answer,
 
 22 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Mot-mime ! " 
 
 But this devotion, bringing no especial pleasure or 
 advantage to either the cardinals, the queen-regent, 
 the young king or his mistresses, naturally brought no 
 profit to the aged courtier, whose influence was 
 stretched to its utmost limit in procuring the appoint- 
 ment of captain of cavalry for his eldest son, and the 
 privilege for himself of winning a few louis d'or now 
 and again at the royal card-tables. 
 
 The causes thus accreted had to-day produced two 
 effects : the first, that the Chateau de Montarnaud 
 was very poorly furnished and very meagrely kept; 
 the second, that the count would not have failed to 
 obey any command the king had deigned to lay upon 
 him, if it had involved carrying Mademoiselle de 
 Rochenbois to Paris in fetters, and obtaining a lettre- 
 de-cachet for Francois if he opposed the movement. 
 
 Such extreme measures were not, however, likely to 
 prove necessary in the opinion of the count, who 
 knew his world as well as Monsieur de Meaux knew 
 his Bible, or Louis XIV. his own importance. So, in 
 leading the young girl into the chateau, he dropped 
 the imperious and fault-finding tone he had assumed 
 among his dependents and toward his son, and spoke 
 of the gayeties of the court, of the magnificence of 
 the young king and the splendors of his entertain- 
 ments, of the new-born beauties of Versailles, the new 
 comedies of Moliere performed in the royal theatre 
 of that palace, and of the charms of several of the 
 court ladies; ending with a significant glance and 
 b w, as he added,
 
 A BLIGHT UPON THE ROSES. 23 
 
 "Not but what I think we might rival even the 
 dazzling beauty of the Marquise de Montespan, not 
 to mention inferior charms, by the importation inte 
 he capital of attractions quite as aristocratic and cul 
 tivated, and infinitely fresher. In fact, mademoiselle 
 the king himself has been good enough to inquire whj 
 you were not presented already, and to give orderi 
 that the ceremony should no longer be delayed. Does 
 that please you ? " 
 
 The color mounted swiftly to the young girl's face, 
 and before replying she cast a glance through the 
 glass-door by which they had just entered the saloon. 
 Upon the terrace stood Francois with his brother Gas- 
 ton ; and, although their conversation was inaudible, 
 the looks and gestures of both indicated annoyance on 
 the part of the younger, insolence on the part of the 
 elder, and a most unfraternal state of feeling on the 
 part of both. The count's eyes followed those of his 
 ward, and rested upon the two young men with a look 
 of dissatisfaction for a moment ; then he said, 
 
 " Francois is nothing but a boy, and needs to see 
 the world. I think I will close the chateau now that 
 you are about to leave it, and send him to travel with 
 the abbe* for a while. He will come home a man." 
 
 " It is quite determined, then, that I should go to 
 Paris ! " exclaimed Valerie in a startled tone. 
 
 " The king himself invites you to do so," replied 
 the count smoothly. " And what is more, my dear, he 
 wishes you to be presented as Madame the Vicomtesse 
 de Montarnaud." 
 
 "Monsieur ! I the wife of Gaston ! Impossible 1 "
 
 24 4 NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "And why impossible, mademoiselle? Gastou * 
 not an ffl-looking fellow ; he has a good position in th 
 army, with prospects of promotion, since his Majesty 
 deigns to notice him ; he loves you romantically ; I, 
 his father, and your guardian, beg you to listen favora- 
 bly to his suit ; and, most important of all, the king 
 commands you to do so." 
 
 "O monsieur!" and choking with anger, grief, 
 and terror, the young girl hid her face in her hands, 
 and rushed from the room. 
 
 The Count de Montamaud looked after her, wrinkled 
 his leathern cheeks in a smile of marvellous cunning, 
 and slowly inhaled a pinch of snuff. 
 
 " Une ingenue! " murmured he, dusting some grains 
 of the fragrant dust from his jabot ; " but it is a fault 
 that cures itself, and wfll make her none the less 
 attractive at court. It was poor La Valliere's road to
 
 BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 2$ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 
 
 THE conversation of the brothers, meantime, was 
 no more amicable than it looked. Truth to tell, 
 no great affection had ever assisted between them 
 since early childhood, when the mother's undisguised 
 partiality for the son who inherited her physique, very 
 much of her character, and the family title she had 
 reluctantly abandoned in assuming that of Mont- 
 arnaud, had sown the seeds of jealousy in the ardent 
 Southern temperament of the elder, and had given 
 Franois a certain independence and assurance of 
 manner ill fitting him in later days to submit to the 
 domination of a brother. Another cause of annoy- 
 ance to Gaston was the fact that while himself remain- 
 ing dependent upon his father's very slender resources, 
 his title of vicomte being but an empty honor, his 
 brother inherited, with his mother's family name and 
 title, a very pretty little property, whose modest in- 
 come was paid directly into his own hands, and added, 
 perhaps unnecessarily, to the independence of his 
 manner, and reticence as to his movements. The 
 perils of excessive riches were, however, greatly les- 
 sened by the policy of the young baron's father, who 
 during his non-age exacted so large a proportion of
 
 26 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 his revenue toward the maintenance of the household, 
 that there was no great danger of extravagant habits 
 growing up in the young man's life, especially as he 
 had always lived in the Chateau de Montarnaud, and 
 never visited any city larger than Marseilles. This 
 seclusion had induced a certain rusticity of dress, 
 speech, and manner, affording infinite amusement of 
 an unamiable nature to the elder brother, who had, 
 since boyhood, lived mostly with his father in Paris, 
 and later had mingled in the army with the gay gal- 
 lants of the court who either for their sins, or from 
 ambitious motives, had sought the variety of killing a 
 few Dutchmen or Spaniards, as the case might be, or 
 at least of airing the ribbons, scarfs, and favors of 
 their lady-loves upon the field of battle. In every 
 folly, every new affectation or whimsical device, Gas- 
 ton de Montarnaud suffered not even De Lauzun or 
 De Guiche to surpass him so far as his revenues would 
 permit ; and, as insolence and flippancy are but cheap 
 luxuries, he possessed them in abundance. 
 
 As the Count de Montarnaud led his ward toward 
 the chateau, and the brothers followed, Francois pale 
 and disturbed, Gaston in unusually high spirits, the 
 latter opened the conversation by remarking, 
 
 "That is a wonderfully happy effort of old Marie's 
 in your doublet, Francois. It is a great economy for 
 you that she can fashion them from the old bed- 
 hangings, is it not?" 
 
 "My doublet was fashioned by the best tailor in 
 Marseilles, from his best piece of stuff; and, which will 
 perhaps strike you as incredible, vicomte, it is paid 
 for," replied Francois sententiously.
 
 BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 2 7 
 
 " It does seem incredible that any man in his senses 
 should pay for such a garment as that. But you had 
 nothing to pay for that dagger and sheath, my prudent 
 brother ; for I recognize it as the one our ancestor 
 Count Paul wore at Cressy." 
 
 " Not of quite so old a fashion as that, brother, al- 
 though not new," replied Francois tranquilly. " It is 
 the dagger with which about a century ago Reginald 
 de Montarnaud, who was a Catholic, slew his elder 
 brother who was a Huguenot, and had, moreover, 
 stolen the promised bride of the younger." 
 
 "The younger brothers of our house have ever 
 been envious of their elders ; but in these days it is 
 the elder who is the soldier, while the younger weaves 
 daisy-chains in the gardens of Montarnaud," retorted 
 Gaston with a sneer. " But, unhappily, for the future, 
 my dear boy, you must pursue your sports alone. 
 Your playmate goes to Paris with me to-morrow." 
 
 " With you, indeed ! " 
 
 " With my father and me, since you are so precise, 
 Monsieur Huguenot ; and, by the way, you had better 
 look. up a suit of our great-grandfather's court clothes, 
 in which to dance at my wedding a week or so 
 hence." 
 
 '* And *hom do you marry, if I may inquire?" de- 
 manded Francois, turning pale as death, and clinch- 
 ing his hand upon the pommel of his dagger. 
 
 "What, has not my little Valerie told you? oh the 
 pretty coquetries of these timid darlings ! " exclaimed 
 Gaston in a coxcombical tone ; but Francois was too 
 much affected by the matter to attend much to th?
 
 28 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 manner of his speech, and could only repeat "Va* 
 lerie ! " in a tone of dismay and terror that delighted 
 Gaston beyond measure. He twirled his mustache, 
 smiled insufferably, set his left arm akimbo, and re- 
 plied, 
 
 " Yes, Valerie, my little baron. The king himself 
 commands the nuptials, I have consented, the lady is 
 delighted, and my father hastens on the affair. Made- 
 moiselle de Rochenbois with her servants, and es- 
 corted by my father and myself, sets out for Paris 
 to-morrow morning ; and the marriage will be cele- 
 brated in the royal chapel of Versailles immediately 
 upon our arrival. You knew, of course, that I was so 
 happy as to possess Mademoiselle Valerie's approval, 
 and that the marriage was in process of arrange- 
 ment?" 
 
 " I knew that you were a liar when you were a boy, 
 and I have no reason to imagine you improved since," 
 replied Francois, staring steadily into the eyes of his 
 brother, who, returning the look more fiercely if less 
 fixedly, slowly replied, 
 
 "Among gentlemen, Monsieur le Baron de " 
 
 " Gaston ! Gaston, I say 1 " chimed in the shrill 
 voice of the Count de Montarnaud, whose subtle in- 
 stinct warned him that the quarrel of the brothers was 
 at & point where interference without apparent suspi- 
 cion was his most appropriate rdle, and, advancing as 
 he spoke, he ended by linking his arm in that of his 
 elder son, and leading him away ; while Francois with 
 i furious gesture rushed into the chateau, and vainly 
 wught through all its orecincts for Valerie, who was
 
 BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 2c, 
 
 closely shut in her own room, refusing to admit even 
 Marie or Mademoiselle Salerne. This state of tilings 
 continued until nine o'clock, the hour for supper, 
 when Marie appeared to report that mademoiselle had 
 a headache, and required nothing, but wished her 
 guardian and the young gentlemen a very good night. 
 As the old woman a few moments later passed through 
 a dark corridor between the dining-saloon and the 
 staircase, she was frightened nearly out of her senses 
 by a cold hand grasping her own, into which it pressed 
 a paper and a silver piece, while a voice hoarsely mut- 
 tered, 
 
 " Give the paper to your mistress without delay." 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur le Baron, oh ! I took you for, 1 
 know not what ! Oh, such a fright as you have given 
 me!" 
 
 " Never mind : silver will cure it, old woman. How 
 is mademoiselle? What is she doing?" 
 
 " Doing ! She is doing nothing, nor will she allow 
 me to do any thing, although monsieur tells me to be 
 all ready to set out with mademoiselle for Paris in the 
 morning, to come back perhaps never. And there 
 she sits at this blessed moment, I dare say, in the 
 great fauteuil that was madame the countess's, her 
 elbow on its arm, her pretty chin in her hand, her 
 great eyes fixed on the black square of sky outside 
 her casement (for I am sure she can see nothing 
 else) ; and never a word can I get from her except, 
 ' Hold your tongue,' and ' I want nothing,' and * Let 
 me alone, good Marie ! ' Not so much as to say 
 which of her dresses is to be packed, and whethet 
 the will carry El Moro and the canary-birds."
 
 3O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Well, go, good ^larie, go and give her my note, 
 and perhaps there will be a change," whispered Fran- 
 9ois hurriedly, for footsteps were approaching; and 
 while the nurse clambered wearily up the stair, the 
 lover strode out into the night, leaving his father and 
 brother to take their supper, and mature their plans for 
 the morrow, without his help. 
 
 Two hours or so later the chateau was quiet, its 
 lights extinguished, its inmates supposed to be asleep 
 hi preparation for the fatigues of the morrow ; but, 
 'whether in houses or their inmates, great apparent 
 calms occasionally cover intensity of emotion or 
 action. 
 
 The count, to be sure, slept on principle ; for he, too, 
 had principles, logical outgrowth of his religion, a com- 
 fortable faith comprised in one tenet, viz. : To gain 
 the utmost personal advantage at the least possible 
 personal sacrifice. 
 
 One of the leading principles of this faith was care 
 of the digestive organs, and the securing of that 
 amount of rest and sleep essential to a person no 
 longer young, who desires to retain the appearance of 
 youth. So the count having supped artistically, gen- 
 tly ruminated sufficiently, and gone to bed cheerfully, 
 now slept peacefully, and was out of the question. 
 
 Valerie de Rochenbois, on the contrary, was per- 
 haps more widely awake than she had ever been in 
 all her life, for she was thinking more deeply. The 
 few words dropped by her guardian, and the express- 
 ive glances of his elder son, had conveyed to hei 
 quick intuition the whole story of their visit and in-
 
 BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 3! 
 
 tentions in her behalf; her facile fancy already pic- 
 tured existence at the gorgeous court of Versailles^ 
 herself one of those admired and fortunate beings of 
 whose elegance, beauty, and luxury she had heard so 
 much : and the picture was very alluring to the pleas- 
 ure-loving fancy of the girl. True, the figure of Gaston 
 de Montarnaud, whom she did not very much like, 
 made an unpleasant shadow in the scene ; but Valerie , 
 had a grand capacity for closing her eyes upon things 
 she did not wish to see, and, like many another girl 
 called to a similar decision, she was too maidenly a 
 maid to know how important an item the husband is 
 in a woman's married life. 
 
 Contrasting with Gaston to whom she was indiffer- 
 ent, stood Francois whom she loved, no, liked with a 
 promise of love, and toward whom just now she felt 
 a species of resentment for having, by his declaration 
 of that afternoon, evoked certain feelings in her own 
 heart interfering with the single-sighted delight she 
 otherwise would have felt in the brilliant prospect 
 opened to her by Gaston and his father. 
 
 To sum up this most contrarious and yet essen- 
 tially feminine state of mind, she foresaw that she 
 should hate the man she wished to marry, and she 
 already began to love him whose fortunes she did not 
 wish to share ; and she was vexed at Francois that he 
 could not give her what Gaston offered, and felt a cold 
 repulsion toward Gaston, in that he coupled himself 
 with what he offered. 
 
 No wonder, plunged into this conflict of two tides, 
 and not knowing into what maelstrom they would soon
 
 32 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 whirl her, that Valerie's great dark eyes ached with the 
 intensity of their wakefulness, or that she declined, 
 both sharply and briefly, to decide upon the merits of 
 the pink paduasoy, or the somewhat frayed brocade, or 
 to give directions for the conveyance of her canary- 
 birds. Poor old Marie, in fact, had suffered so many 
 and such severe repressions, that it was in a silence 
 most unwonted that she entered the chamber after her 
 brief interview with the baron, and laid his note upon 
 the lap of her young mistress, still seated in the deep 
 fauteuil, still staring fixedly at the blackness beyond her 
 window. Valerie, half-eagerly, hay-angrily, caught up 
 the paper, and approached the candles burning upon 
 the dressing-table : its contents were brief, and to her 
 fancy somewhat peremptory : 
 
 "I must see you before the morning, that you may reply 
 distinctly to my offer of hand and heart and name, before you 
 are called upon to answer a similar offer from my brother. I 
 shall be under your window as the clock strikes midnight, and 
 hope you will be there ready to answer simply and truthfully the 
 question I have asked, and ask again: Will you be mine, 
 Valerie, my wife, and my beloved? It is the most solemn 
 utterance of my whole life : do not play with it, do not trifle 
 with your reply. 
 
 FRANCOIS." 
 
 As the young girl read these words, a blush, a smile, 
 a frown, passed in rapid alternation across her face j 
 and then she stood meditating, folding and re-folding 
 the paper between her fingers, and finally holding it in 
 the flame of the candle until it fell a floating cinder 
 upon the polished floor.
 
 CAIN AND ABEL. 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CAIN AND ABEL. 
 
 THE count slept, Valerie meditated, Francoii 
 waited, and Gaston prowled. The fact was, 
 that this young man, although half a century before 
 the time of Voltaire and Rousseau, was a bit of a 
 philosopher on his own account, and, banished from 
 the polished circles of the court and the smiles of 
 Madame de Montespan, could solace himself very 
 tolerably with certain village companions, not as re- 
 fined certainly, but perhaps quite as edifying to his 
 moral character, as the cavaliers and grandes dames of 
 Versailles. When, therefore, the Count de Montarnaud 
 left the salon to secure his beauty-sleep, Monsieur le 
 Viromte, throwing a dark cloak about him, strolled 
 down through the garden and over a field or two by a 
 way quite familiar to his feet since boyhood, to the 
 auberge of the wretched village of Montarnaud, where 
 he knew that a little circle of flatterers and vassals 
 would hail his appearance with slavish delight. 
 
 But oh, the wheels within the wheels of even so tiny 
 a microcosm as the Chateau de Montarnaud ! 
 
 Mademoiselle Salerne, aged twenty-six, and not ill- 
 looking, had allowed her heart as she would have said, 
 her fancy as we will call it, to go astray, secret! v to lie
 
 34 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 sure, but none the less violently, in the direction of the 
 vicomte, whose sinister face and supple form seemed 
 to her those of a Antinous, whose insolent and affected 
 manners were in her estimation the ideal of dignity 
 and high-breeding, and whose careless compliments, 
 flung at her from time to time merely because Gaston 
 de Montarnaud knew no other mode of addressing a 
 good-looking young woman, stood for so many avowals 
 of love. 
 
 When, therefore, Mademoiselle Salerne discovered, 
 hi some occult fashion of her own, that the object of 
 her idol's present visit to Montarnaud was to woo her 
 pupil for his wife, and was informed that she as gou- 
 vernante to Mademoiselle de Rochenbois would on the 
 morrow accompany her to Paris, the state of mingled 
 jealousy, pleasure, doubt, and agitation taking posses- 
 sion of her mind was something as terrific as the 
 proverbial tempest in a teapot, and quite sufficient to 
 banish slumber from the beady black eyes of the vic- 
 tim, even had she not found the night too short to 
 furbish up her dilapidated wardrobe, and prepare for 
 her journey. 
 
 Hence it came, that, as Gaston quietly left the cha- 
 teau, Adele Salerne first peeped out of her window 
 after his retreating figure, and then, moved by some 
 vague impulse of jealousy and suspicion, seized a 
 mantle, and, flinging it round her head and shoul- 
 ders, ran swiftly through the corridor and down the 
 stairs in pursuit, or at least in espial, of the nocturnal 
 rambler. Now, it so happened that the Abb6 De- 
 spard, although not in love, was as wakeful and as dis-
 
 CAIN AND ABEL. 35 
 
 turbed in mind as the governess ; for not only did the 
 note of preparation and change in the chateau fore- 
 bode the breaking-up of a happy home to him, with 
 the return to laborious and subservient duty in the 
 cathedral at Marseilles ; but his conscience, a good, 
 - trong, serviceable young conscience, troubled him with 
 suggestions that the hatred, the despair, and the jeal- 
 ousy he had read during the last few hours upon the 
 face of his pupil were, in good measure, referable to 
 the perfect freedom in which the young man had ruled 
 his own life, and pursued the love-affair whose inter- 
 ruption now threatened such disaster to all concerned. 
 
 " I have been a false steward, an unfaithful guard- 
 ian. Monsieur le Comte has every right to send me 
 back to my bishop in disgrace, a dishonored priest ! 
 I have been weak, timid, cowardly : I have allowed 
 my pupil to lead me, instead of I him; and now I 
 know his temper ; I know that of the vicomte ; and 
 mademoiselle, how will she choose?" 
 
 Half muttering, half thinking these, and a thousand 
 phrases like them, the chaplain paced up and down 
 the long half-lighted library, whither he had retreated 
 from the frigid and insolent companionship of his 
 master, and his master's son ; his tall figure clad in 
 the black soutane, now vanishing into the gloom at 
 either end of the gallery, now showing spectrally in the 
 vague circle of light shed by the two candles, which, 
 mounted upon quaint twisted branches of lacquered 
 brass, only served to make the gloomy hall more 
 gloomy than total darkness. At one end of the 
 libr.uy a door stood ajar, a side-door, giving upon a
 
 36 A NAMELESJ NOBLEMAK. 
 
 small lobby whence a narrow staircase led to the upper 
 stories of the chateau; opposite this staircase a door 
 led to the terrace, and so to the gardens ; and it was 
 by this quiet staircase, lobby, and portal, that Ma- 
 demoiselle Salerne had chosen to set forth upon her 
 voyage of observation ; and, as the moment of ner 
 arrival at the foot of the stair was also the moment in 
 which the chaplain reached the end of the library next 
 this staircase, it fell out that his eyes, accustomed 
 to the darkness, discerned the outline of a slender 
 female figure flitting across the lobby, and out at the 
 door, and his ears assured him that the light footfall, 
 and gentle rustle of garments, were not those of old 
 Marie, or Pauline the inferior woman-servant. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Valerie ! Francois has persuaded 
 her to meet him in the garden ! What imprudence ! 
 If Monsieur le Comte or Monsieur Gaston hear them ! 
 My fault again, always my fault, miserable that 1 
 am ! I should have foreseen, I should have pre- 
 vented ! " And with these broken exclamations, prov- 
 ing that the good abbess conscience was more acute 
 than his knowledge of the world, and the art of man- 
 aging lovers, he threw his berretta upon his head, and 
 left the house by the same path as the governess. But 
 Adele, light of foot and lithe of motion, was already 
 far down the garden path in the direction she had seen 
 Gaston take ; and, in fact, pursued him so closely, that, 
 as he passed through the wicket at the lower end of 
 the garden, Adele, hidden in a great clump of laurel 
 could almost have touched him. Not daring to follow 
 firther, the governess slowly retraced her steps toward
 
 CAIN AND ABEL. 37 
 
 the house, but in a dark alley ran almost into the arms 
 of a tall, black-clad figure, who first seized his opponent 
 mechanically, but, releasing her immediately, bowed 
 low in the darkness, murmuring reproachfully, 
 
 " O mademoiselle, what imprudence ! " 
 
 " Imprudence, father ! " exclaimed a hard and shrill 
 voice, differing as much from Valerie's cooing tones as 
 a cat-bird's from a linnet's : " I only ran down the 
 garden for a breath of fresh air, after stitching away in 
 my own room all the evening. What imprudence, 
 mon pere ? " 
 
 " It is always imprudent to take the night air, and 
 you need your rest for the journey to-morrow," replied 
 the abb composedly as he passed on, leaving the per- 
 plexed and somewhat indignant governess to her own 
 meditations. 
 
 " Is he also following Monsieur Gaston ? " murmured 
 she : " he never would dare upbraid him, no matter in 
 what peccadillo he discovered him ! Can it be that 
 Monsieur Francois is astray to-night? Is Mademoi- 
 selle Valerie safely housed? Truly this is a night of 
 adventure, a night of interest, a night such as does not 
 often come to this stupid old chateau ! I will stay out 
 until the priest and Monsieur Gaston return : they 
 must pass this way." 
 
 Wrapping herself more closely in her mantle as she 
 whispered this resolve, Adele accordingly settled her- 
 self upon a well-shaded garden-bench, and remained 
 motionless; quite unconscious that the pries., aftei 
 passing her by a few yards, had stopped, and I* nt his 
 acute ear to listen for her return into the house Find
 
 38 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 ing that this return did not take place, he crept a little 
 nearer, and soon distinguished the deeper shadow 
 against the green of the ilex behind the bench. Again 
 noiselessly withdrawing, the abbe' retreated to a safe 
 distance, and, sternly staring up at the walls of the 
 chateau, seemed to question them of their secrets. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Salerae is posted as a spy there, 01 
 as a vidette to watch against surprises ! That means 
 that her mistress is out here with Fra^ois ! Shall I 
 return, and force the truth from her by my authority as 
 her confessor? or shall I wait and watch? Ha 1 what 
 is that?" 
 
 It was a light in Valerie's window : it was Valerie 
 herself looking down into the garden. Still moving 
 noiselessly upon the soft mould of the garden-beds, 
 the abb crept in that direction, uncertain even yet as 
 to the course proper for him to pursue ; but infinitely 
 relieved to perceive that Mademoiselle de Rochenbois 
 was safe, and not in the commission of imprudences 
 for which he might feel himself more or less account- 
 able. 
 
 Truth to tell, Valerie had seldom passed so mau- 
 vais un quart d'heure as after reading Francois' note, 
 nor had by any means resolved what to reply to 
 it, when the town-clock struck twelve ; and she felt, 
 as Godiva did, as Cinderella did, that the moment of 
 meditation was past, the moment of action had ar- 
 rived. But what action? Godiva was governed by 
 a grand motive, Cinderella by a grand passion and a 
 fairy godmother; but poor little Valerie possessed 
 neither grand motive, nor passion, nor godmother, in
 
 CAIN AND ABEL. 39 
 
 fact, nothing as guide but a very pronounced desire 
 to please, first herself, then Francois, then everybody ; 
 and no amount of meditation showed her how all 
 these objects were to be combined. To be sure, the 
 Snark tells us of a mind so equably divided that when 
 it would call upon Richard or William, it could decide 
 upon neither, and so summoned Rilchiam; but the 
 Snark was not composed in those days, and it is 
 unkind to play with Valerie's feelings in this manner, 
 so let us resume serious history. 
 
 The clock struck twelve : a handful of sand thrown 
 against Valerie's window announced a visitor below; 
 and, opening the casement, the young lady was startled 
 to find the top of her lover's blonde head upon a level 
 with the sill. 
 
 " Why, how came you there, Francois ? " exclaimed 
 she. 
 
 " The fruit-ladder. I was afraid they would hear if 
 we spoke aloud. There is not a moment to spare, for 
 everybody but my father is up and about. I went to 
 see if all was safe, and nearly ran over your governess. 
 But never mind all that. Tell me, Valerie, tell me 
 like a brave and honest girl, tell me that you love me 
 as I love you." 
 
 " Certainly, I love you, Francois : I am very fond of 
 you ; but " 
 
 "But what? Speak out, Valerie, be honest." 
 
 " How can I speak out when I don't know what tc 
 say?" demanded Valerie pettishly. Francois uttered 
 an exclamation as of physical pain. 
 
 " O Valerie ! You do not know ! You are trifling
 
 40 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 with me : you know that this is life and death to me, 
 and you hesitate and toy as if with the choice of a 
 ribbon." 
 
 "But you see, Francois," retorted the young girl 
 with vivacity, " if it is life or death to you, so it is to 
 me ; and I can't tell, all in a minute, which is life and 
 which is death. If it were a ribbon it wouldn't 
 matter: but it's the court and the king, and all the 
 gay, beautiful life there, with Gaston, whom I don't 
 love ; or it's this stupid old chateau, and poverty, and 
 disgrace, and rust and mould, with you, whom I am 
 fond of, no doubt, and yet" 
 
 "And yet not enough fond of to choose instead 
 of the court and the king and Gaston," suggested 
 Francois. 
 
 "That's the very question," replied Valerie naively. 
 " And I'm really afraid, that, whichever I choose, I shall 
 spend all the rest of my life regretting the other." 
 
 "Then by all means, mademoiselle," began the 
 baron in a rage ; but was interrupted by a loud and 
 mocking voice from below : 
 
 " What, what ! A robber ! An assassin ! Thieves t 
 Murderers ! An attack upon the chateau ! " 
 
 And with a well-directed kick the vicomte drove 
 the fruit-ladder from its position, and brought it with its 
 burden to the ground. Francois, considerably hurt by 
 the fall, but a good deal more humiliated than hurt, 
 jumped up with a furious exclamation, and, seizing his 
 brother by the throat, bore him to the ground. 
 
 " Oh, it is you, you wretched animal ! " gasped the 
 vicomte, no match for his brawny brother in any
 
 CAIN AND ABEL. 4! 
 
 thing but courage, of which he had plenty. " How 
 dare you insult my affianced wife? Take that, then ! " 
 
 " Ugh ! " growled the stricken man, smarting from a 
 blow across the eyes nearly blinding him, and return- 
 ing it with a tremendous thrust. " You lie ! She is 
 ny affianced wife ! " 
 
 "Lie, do I?" hissed Gaston, his bad blood fully 
 roused; and Cam and Abel clutched each other in 
 mortal fray. A moment, and the slighter form toppled 
 against the wall, and fell a crumpled heap at its foot ; 
 while the other, oppressed with the sudden horror of 
 completed crime, turned and fled into the darkness 
 and the night; and Valerie, bending low from her 
 window, wrung her hands, and shrieked for help, moan- 
 ing hi her poor little selfish heart, 
 
 "Francois has murdered Gaston, and I have lost 
 them both."
 
 42 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 VALERIE'S CHOICE. 
 
 A LITTLE way down the garden-path Francois 
 paused in his headlong flight, stood still, and 
 began slowly to retrace his steps. Having yielded to 
 two impulses of the wild beast caged in most men's 
 natures, Fight and Flight, he now submitted to the 
 tardier but in the main stronger coercion of educa- 
 tion, civilization, or, if you please, honor, the legitimate 
 child of education and civilization. 
 
 Three steps of retrogression, and the young man 
 felt his arm grasped from behind, and an eager voice 
 demanded, 
 
 " What is it, Monsieur le Baron ? You have fought 
 with your brother? You have killed him? Is he 
 dead?" 
 
 "We fought? Idonotfcnow. God forbid ! lam 
 going to see. Come, man pere." 
 
 " Come ! Go, I should rather say. Fly while there 
 is time. The house will be roused in a moment : the 
 governess is flying along the terrace already, shrieking 
 like a sea-gull, and Mademoiselle Valerie" 
 
 " What are you thinking of, abW ? Fly ! Escape ! 
 What words are these for a gentleman to hear? If I 
 have by sore mischance killed my brother, I will abide
 
 VALERIE'S CHOTC.F 43 
 
 the consequences of my deed. God knows I never 
 meant more than an angry blow." 
 
 "Then no justice of God or man demands your 
 life as forfeit ; and yet the count in his first anger 
 At any rate, wait here for a moment or two, until I 
 discover the real state of the case. If the vicomte is 
 not dead, you ought all the more to keep out of your 
 father's sight for a day or two. Will you wait here 
 five minutes until I go up there and make a report? " 
 
 "Well, yes, I will wait five minutes here ; not, mind 
 you, that I fear my father's wrath, but that I will not 
 intrude upon the grief of Mademoiselle de Rochen- 
 bois, whom even from this distance I can hear calling 
 so piteously upon her Gaston." 
 
 The abb6 had not paused for more than the first 
 clause of this reply, but was already springing up the 
 steps to the terrace, where all the inhabitants of the 
 chateau were now assembled ; and presently Francois, 
 himself invisible beneath the dense shadows of the 
 garden, perceived that his father, the abbe, and two 
 men-servants were lifting, and heavily carrying in at 
 the open doors, a something what was it ? a 
 corpse, or a wounded man? Was he, standing there 
 in *hat fragrant garden, where so few hours before he 
 had sported like a child with his cousin, was he a 
 murderer? His brother's blood was on his hand 
 indeed, but was it life-blood ? 
 
 And the young baron, asking himself this question, 
 facing this possibility, made in those five minutes one 
 of those strides in life which eventless years may not 
 measure, as the Alpine adventurer, losing his hold
 
 44 ^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 upon the ice, whirls in a moment down the steep de- 
 scent whereon by choice he had painfully crept for 
 hours. Perhaps he survives, perhaps he does not ; 
 but, at the best, such plunges leave some aches and 
 scratches behind. 
 
 " Will he never come ? " exclaimed Francois, and 
 on the instant heard the soutane of the priest brush- 
 ing along the rose-hedged walk. 
 "Well, monpere!" 
 
 "Well, my son ! He is not dead, and may not be 
 mortally hurt: they cannot yet tell. But Mademoi- 
 selle Salerne accuses you of the murder, as she calls it ; 
 and your father is in a white rage because the king 
 will be displeased at him. He has sent one man into 
 Marseilles for a surgeon, another for the police to 
 arrest you. He speaks, too, of his seigneurial rights, 
 and of cutting off the hand which has shed the blood 
 of an elder brother. If he finds you to-night he will 
 do some mad thing, not to be remedied to-morrow. 
 Vou must hide for a day or so at least." 
 
 Francois made a haughty gesture of dissent, and 
 twisted his arm from the hold of the priest, who re- 
 luctantly produced his last argument, 
 " Mademoiselle Valerie wishes it." 
 "Wishes me to fly?" 
 
 " Yes. She gave me this note, and whispered, ' Foi 
 God's sake bid him keep out of the way ! ' " 
 
 "A note! How shall I read it ? All depends upon 
 what she says. Man pere, have you some of that 
 magical stuff you were showing me this morning, that 
 which makes light in the dark? Can you make light 
 for me now?"
 
 VALERIE'S CHOICE. 45 
 
 " Yes : come into the garden-house." And the 
 abbe 1 , smiling a little to himself at seeing the depend- 
 ence of the pupil suddenly overtopping the self- 
 assertion of the young noble, led the way into the 
 tool-hcuse, and produced from his pocket a phial of 
 phosphorus, in those days as valuable an adjunct of 
 wonder-work as in our time are cabinets with sliding- 
 doors, wires, magnets, darkened rooms, and boundless 
 credulity. 
 
 Dipping a splint of prepared wood in this phial, 
 the abb procured a light, at which Frangois glanced 
 rather apprehensively, but soon forgot in reading these 
 few words, very badly written upon a crumpled bit of 
 paper : 
 
 " Gaston is not dead, and I am sure I hope he will not die ; 
 but until one knows, you must not be seen here. Hide your 
 self ; efface yourself thoroughly. The abbe may tell me where. 
 For my sake, Francois. VALERIE." 
 
 It was not very loving, it was not very definite : but 
 it ended with " for my sake," and surely Valerie would 
 never so enforce her behest unless she meant more 
 than met the eye ; and if, being his, she desired him 
 to save himself for her sake So far did Frangois 
 untangle the maze of his emotions, and then, turning 
 to the impatient priest, said with a sigh, 
 
 "Well then, mon pere, I will depart for a while: 
 but whither? To my estates in Normandy?" 
 
 "The messengers of Monsieur le Comte would ar- 
 rive there as soon as yourself, mon baron," replied th 
 tutor, in a tone of more authority as he felt himself
 
 46 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 becoming master of the occasion. " No : you shaB 
 come with me to Marseilles ; and I will show you a 
 very poor but a very safe refuge, where you may lie 
 securely hid until your brother's fate is disclosed. 
 Then we shall see." 
 
 " As well there as anywhere, if I must indeed hide." 
 
 " Let us set out at once, and on foot, since to bring 
 horses from the stable would declare our intention." 
 
 "Very well." And Francois, absorbed in thought, 
 set forth at so round a pace that the priest, less used 
 to physical exertion, although well fitted for it, was 
 more than once obliged to beg for consideration. 
 
 Two hours later the young men halted in a quiet 
 street of Marseilles, before a small house largely de- 
 voted to a grocer's shop, bearing upon the door-posts 
 the name of Jacques Despard. 
 
 " It is my father's house and shop, monsieur," said 
 the abbe with quiet dignity, and led the way up a 
 staircase built on the outside at the end, as was the 
 fashion of that day, unlocked a door upon the land- 
 ing, looked in, beckoned the baron to follow, and, 
 unlocking a second door, ushered him into a small 
 bedroom, sparsely but neatly furnished, and very tidy. 
 
 " There, Monsieur le Baron," said the abbe", closing 
 the door, and drawing a long breath, " here you are 
 safe, and welcome for as long as you choose to stay. 
 This is my own room, always kept ready for my arrival 
 by day or night, and never entered by any member of 
 the household save my sister, who loves to keep it in 
 order because she loves me. I will go now, and tell 
 her that I have here a guest who desires to remain in
 
 VALERIE'S CHOICE. 4; 
 
 secret ; and she will attend you without curiosity and 
 without stupidity. Then I must hasten back to the 
 chateau before the family are about, lest my absence 
 should suggest your place of retreat." 
 
 He left the room, and presently returned with a 
 brisk, brown little maiden, whom he presented as, 
 
 " My sister Clotilde, monsieur, and your hostess." 
 
 Francois bowed gravely and courteously ; and Clo> 
 tilde dropped a respectful courtesy, saying shyly, yet 
 eagerly, 
 
 " Monsieur is very welcome ; and I have already 
 told the abb6 how discreet and how attentive I will 
 try to be to his friend. Monsieur will excuse the poor 
 place, I am sure." 
 
 " I am most grateful for its shelter, mademoiselle, 
 and only sorry to make you trouble," replied Francois 
 in his grand, grave fashion ; and Clotilde, dropping 
 another courtesy, followed her brother from the room, 
 saying, 
 
 "As soon as old Nannette has gone to mass, and 
 my father and Henri are in the shop, I will bring 
 monsieur some breakfast." 
 
 "Any time, any thing," replied Frangois wearily; 
 and, as the door closed, he threw himself into a chair, 
 and laid his head upon his folded arms on the table. 
 After all, he was only a boy. 
 
 That evening with his supper Clotilde brought her 
 prisoner a note which she handed to him saying, 
 
 " It is a billet, monsieur, which I found in a parcel 
 of linen sent me by my brother the abb ; and I think 
 it must be for you, since Vincent knows I do not read 
 writing, although I can make out print very well."
 
 48 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " It is for me, mademoiselle," said Francois eagerly } 
 and Clotilde left the room murmuring, 
 
 "He calls me mademoiselle, which is very nice; 
 but he is as solemn as if we assisted at his father's 
 funeral." 
 
 The abbess note ran thus : 
 
 " MONSIEUR MY HONORED PUPIL, I have the pleasure 
 of announcing that the Vicomte de Montarnaud is not so 
 dangerously wounded as was at first feared, and bids fair to 
 recover under the careful tendance of Mademoiselle Valerie, 
 her governess, and old Marie, all of whom are constant at his 
 bedside. But I cannot advise you to return hither at present ; 
 for the comte is far more enraged at the delay in presenting 
 himself, with his son and Mademoiselle de Rochenbois, before 
 the king, than at the danger to his son's life ; and would, could 
 he lay hands upon you, make you suffer severely for his annoy- 
 ance, and possible disgrace at court. 
 
 " Nor have I any better news to give you of Mademoiselle 
 Valerie, who seems in a state of mingled grief and irritability 
 very difficult to encounter. I ventured to ask this morning if 
 she had a message for you ; and she only replied, ' Bid him keep 
 out of the way, if he wishes to please me ; ' and when I again 
 asked if she would not write a line to comfort you in your 
 exile, she sharply inquired, since when priests had made it their 
 duty to act as go-betweens for lovers ? The question touched 
 me sharply, monsieur, and I turned away without reply. 
 
 " In conclusion, I can only recommend you on all accounts, 
 -your own, Monsieur le Comte's, Mademoiselle Valerie's, and 
 even my own, if you will allow me to mention it, to remain 
 strictly hidden, at least until I come to you, which will be in 
 two or three days at latest, I send you a packet containing 
 some clothes, your dressing-case, your own table-service, and 
 some books, among them the Satires of Horace which we 
 were lately reading, and which you may find congenial to your 
 present mood; also the 'Imitation of Christ,' a work more
 
 VALERIE'S CHOICE. 49 
 
 edifying in its spirit than the first, but not nearly so good 
 Latin. 
 
 " Until our meeting I remain 
 
 " Your faithful tutor and servant, 
 
 "VINCENT DE PAUL DESPARD." 
 
 The third evening after this, just as Francois, who 
 had read a good deal of Horace and a little of Thom- 
 as 3 Kempis, had counted all the stones of the dead 
 wall opposite his window, and made some progress in 
 taming the sparrows, which he fed with crumbs on his 
 window-sill, was putting on his plumed hat with the 
 intention of sallying forth to meet his tutor upon the 
 road, or, failing this, to push on to the chateau, and 
 end this miserable suspense, the door was hurriedly 
 opened, and Pre Vincent entered with a face so full 
 of ill news, that the young baron exclaimed, 
 
 " My brother is worse, is dead ! " 
 
 " No monsieur, but " 
 
 " Valerie is betrothed to \ jn ? " 
 
 " I do not know, monsiev r, but 
 
 " Has not she written to me ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, but " 
 
 " Give it me, please, then, and in pity do not say 
 * but ' again to-night." 
 
 " But, Monsieur le Baron " 
 
 " But, mon pere ! " 
 
 And half petulant, half laughing, Francois snatched 
 the letter from the abbe~'s tardy fingers, and, tearing it 
 open, hastily read, 
 
 ' I have not written to you before, Fran9ois, because I knew 
 D( t what to say, and also because I was busy in attending Gas
 
 5O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 ton, whom you hurt very much : and it is a horrible thing for a 
 brother to try to kill his brother, especially the younger the elder ; 
 for, as my guardian says, some persons might say you wished 
 to secure the title and estates of Montarnaud in addition to 
 your own. And it was all a mistake too ; for Gaston was wan- 
 dering in the garden, to look at the light in my window, and 
 vexing himself with fears that I should not accept his suit, and 
 really took you for a robber. He is much better now, so much 
 that to-morrow, or even to-night if possible, we are to set out 
 for Paris, carrying him in a litter, and travelling by easy stages ; 
 for my guardian will no longer delay obeying the king's com- 
 mand, and says he would risk the lives of all belonging to him, 
 and after all the rest his own, rather than further tempt the 
 royal displeasure. 
 
 " Ah, Fra^ois I my heart is not in what I have written, and 
 you will again call me frivolous and heartless, I know you 
 will ; but, dear, what can I do ? My uncle would take me by 
 main force if I resisted ; he would kill me sooner than seem to 
 disobey the king ; and I, well, then, I will be brave, at least, 
 and say the truth, I want to go. I do not love Gaston, I 
 do not love, not really love, anybody ; but I must see Ver- 
 sailles ; I must breathe the air of the court ; I must wave my 
 wings like those great painted butterflies of our fair garden, in 
 the perfumed sunshine of the royal presence. I shall be sorry, 
 I know it already, but I go I " 
 
 There was more of it; but at this last word the 
 lover, muttering a black and bitter malediction, rent 
 the sheet into twenty fragments, crushed them in his 
 hand, and, flinging them upon the hearth, turned a 
 ghastly face upon his tutor, saying, 
 
 "So it is decided. She has gone with him to 
 Paris ! " 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte, v.th Mademoiselle de Ro- 
 chenbois her attendants and Monsieur Gaston, left
 
 VALERIE'S CHOICE. $!' 
 
 the chateau about an hour before I did," said the 
 abb gently, for the pain upon his pupil's white face 
 stirred his very heart. 
 
 " Will you kindly leave me alone, mon pere, for hall 
 an hour or so ? Or, no, I will walk for a while. There 
 is now no motive for concealment. In half an hour I 
 will return." 
 
 "God be with you, my son, and give you strength ! " 
 
 " Amen, my father." 
 
 HaH" an hour later the baron, returning to his little 
 room, found an inviting supper spread, and the abb 
 cheerfully superintending Clotilde's last arrangements. 
 
 "Come, my son ! " exclaimed he as the young girl 
 withdrew. " Let us first of all eat ; since Clotilde tells 
 me you sent away your dinner untasted, and I have 
 taken nothing since morning." 
 
 "As you will, mon pere" replied Francois carelessly ; 
 but even so the priest noted that the voice had a stur- 
 dier ring and a more manly tone than he yet had heard 
 hi it, and was further rejoiced by seeing his pupil par- 
 take of Clotilde's delicacies, not with any great enjoy- 
 ment certainly, but with the honest appetite of a 
 healthy young fellow of one and twenty. 
 
 "And now, mon abbe" began the baron, pushing 
 back his chair, " I have to bid you good-by, with 
 inany thanks for your kind hospitality here, and your 
 greater kindness in the days past, the days of my 
 youth as they already seem, for the life of Montarnaud 
 is past." 
 
 "And whither go you now, Monsieur le Baron? 
 What are your plans, if I may ask ? " inauired
 
 52 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 somewhat incredulously ; for truly the transition from a 
 runaway schoolboy to a self-reliant young noble was a 
 little sharp, a little incredible. But Francois, proving 
 his new manhood by failing to resent the other's un- 
 belief in it, quietly answered, 
 
 " I hardly know, except that I go to-morrow into 
 Normandy, to sell my possessions there to this rich 
 contractor who wishes so much to become a proprie- 
 tor. My one and twentieth birthday is past since 
 resterday." 
 
 "You will sell" began the abbe aghast. But 
 Franfois interrupted him : " Do not let us argue, mon 
 pere" said he quietly, but with the air of the grand 
 seigneur which had so lately come upon him. " I have 
 no longer a country, a home, or a name. The king of 
 France has stolen my father's honor and my fiancee's 
 faith. He shall not rank me among his subjects, lest 
 I, too, become a traitor and a coward. I renounce all 
 that makes me a Frenchman; and, so soon as this 
 business is concluded, I leave the country of Louis 
 XIV., of Raoul de Montarnaud, of Gaston his son, 
 and of Valerie de Rochenbois, never, so help me 
 God ! to set foot upon its soil again." 
 
 " And where will you go ? and how will you live ? " 
 asked the abb, a tinge of excitement rising to his 
 sallow cheek, and kindling his fervent eyes. 
 
 " I have hardly considered as yet," replied his pupil. 
 "There is good fighting to be had in the Netherlands 
 and I am not an ill swordsman." 
 
 " I have a thought ! You were lamenting that birth 
 and fortune prevented your pursuing your surgical and
 
 VALERIE'S CHOICE. 53 
 
 anatomical studies. The army hospitals are rough but 
 rapid schools ; and to save life, and ameliorate human 
 suffering, is a nobler and a rarer art than slaughter. 
 Then, too, I might find work as chaplain." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the young man, his fair face 
 flushing eagerly. " You will go with me ! You, too, 
 will expatriate yourself, and for my sake, man pere ! 
 I wished it so much, but would not ask it for fear I 
 should seem to claim pity and help." 
 
 " Pride, my son," quietly suggested the abb6 ; and 
 then, the young man's nature suddenly overtopping 
 the priest's, he grasped Fran?ois by the hand, cry- 
 ing, 
 
 "Courage, mon ami! we will go out together to 
 conquer the world, and win for ourselves the place 
 she does not wish to grant us. The sword of the 
 Lord and of Gideon shall prevail over more formid- 
 able enemies than yet have assailed us. Va! "
 
 54 ^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MOLLY. 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH, of various memory, com- 
 manded her portrait to be painted without 
 shadow ; and the idea was so little wise that we may 
 fairly conclude it to have been all her own, and that 
 Burleigh and the rest of the councillors who made 
 the greatness and the goodness of the maiden queen 
 (probably wife of Essex) thought this one of the 
 occasions when their royal charge might be left to 
 her own guidance, without danger to any one but 
 herself. 
 
 And why was it so absurd an idea? Simply because 
 it ignored one of the primal laws of creation, the law 
 of contrasts. Why is coming day so lovely? Because 
 it is so strong a contrast to the darkness, colorlessness, 
 repose, of night. Why is night so lovely when its 
 soft and perfumed darkness falls between us and the 
 world which has wearied us all day ? Because of the 
 contrast to that day we welcomed so blithely, and 
 shall again welcome on the morrow. 
 
 Why did the God of beauty make the skies and sea 
 blue, the forests green, the birds, the flowers, the rain- 
 bow, the gems and minerals, of every tint into which 
 light may be divided, if not to teach us the refresh-
 
 MOLLY. 55 
 
 ment and delight of contrast? So Elizabeth was, after 
 all, a more pretentious autocrat than her father. He 
 only aspired to reform and rule the Church : she 
 would have reformed and governed creation. 
 
 In another reign Madame de Pompadour held 
 power for twenty years. How? By studying and 
 utilizing the science of contrasts. The chief me- 
 morial she has left upon earth is that combination 
 of sky-blue and carnation-pink still known by her 
 name, that soft and vivid contrast adapted from 
 Nature's azure eyes and softly tinted cheeks ; and one 
 can hardly help weeping to-day over the memoirs of 
 the poor wretch as one reads of her piteous efforts to 
 maintain her bad eminence, exerting herself day by 
 day to hold the sated voluptuary, at once her slave 
 and her master, by ever freshly linked chains, largely 
 forged at the anvil of contrast. To-day she moved 
 before him in all the grandeur of jewels, cloth of gold, 
 lace, embroidery, all that composed the grande toilette 
 of that age ; to-morrow she was the artless peasant- 
 inaid, with her snow-white linen, scarlet bodice, and 
 brief kirtle, showing the pretty feet and ankles in their 
 gay hose and shoon ; now she swam in the postures 
 of an Eastern dance, clad in the gold-shot tissues, the 
 transparent veil, and tinkling ornaments, of a baya- 
 dere ; and again she drooped meekly before her lord 
 in the costume of a nun, coiffed and wimpled, her 
 bold eyes modestly down-dropt, her white unjewelled 
 fingers clasping a rosary. 
 
 Ah, poor wretch, indeed ! How she must have 
 longed at times to dare to be herself, to be gloomy 01
 
 56 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 angry, or tearful or silent, as the mood seized her, to 
 know the liberty of Jeanne Poisson once more. And, 
 after all, she was a Catholic, and must at least have 
 been taught the superstitions of her faith : she must 
 by times have thought of death and judgment and 
 hell ; she was not " advanced " enough to doubt the 
 existence of both God and the Devil as real persons, 
 and suppose the thought of them took possession of 
 her imagination while the king waited to see her in 
 the bayadere dress. Well, she reigned by the power 
 of contrasts, and achieved her last coup of this sort 
 when she was carried from her lodgings in the royal 
 palace, from her pink and blue, her jewels, her cos- 
 tumes, her magnificence, to the sordid hearse, quite 
 good enough to-day for her whose word a few months 
 earlier could shake the world ; and Louis XV., stand- 
 ing at his window to watch the wretched funeral and 
 the dismal, rainy November day, took snuff, and 
 laughed, and said, 
 
 "The marquise has rather poor weather for her 
 journey." 
 
 Is the digression a trifle long? Pardon it ; for it is 
 to make you in love with contrast, and to lead you 
 from Versailles, with its Montespans and Pompadours, 
 and the rose-garden of Provence, with Valerie, sum- 
 moned by a king to grace his court, to a desolate 
 winter sea-coast, its sparse vegetation cut down by 
 unremitting frosts, its few and scattered dwellings 
 cowering before the winds that contemptuously hurl 
 handfuls of sand in their blinking eyes, or tear the 
 thatch from their roofs like hair from a dishonored
 
 MOLLY. 57 
 
 head; or, growing more furious than contempt ious, 
 shake the whole sturdy frame until it rocks upon its 
 foundations, yet meekly holds its own at last, as the 
 Wat Tylers generally do. 
 
 It is with one of these houses that we have to do, 
 a low but comfortably large farmhouse, set down in 
 the sand with a sort of apologetic uncertainty, as if 
 it hesitated to turn its back, either upon the faint 
 wheel-track denoting a highway, or upon the sea sul- 
 lenly sliding up a shallow beach about a hundred 
 rods away. The wheel-track meant agriculture and 
 commerce, the sea stood for fisheries and driftwood ; 
 and the question evidently vexing the mind of the 
 undecided house was, whether Humphrey Wilder, its 
 master and owner, was a farmer or fisherman, and so 
 had most need to conciliate land or sea. The house 
 never found out, nor shall we ; so let it pass. As for 
 the man, see him as he stands beside the stout gray 
 horse harnessed to the farm-wagon, wherein he has 
 already bestowed sundry bales and boxes suggestive 
 of provender for man and beast, and an abundance 
 of wraps, fit for an arctic exploration at the least. 
 Perhaps Wilder wishes it were arctic, rather than as 
 hot as he is like to find the end of his journey : for he is 
 bound with Deborah, his wife, to the quarterly meet- 
 ing of Friends at New Bedford ; and Deborah, like her 
 who dwelt beneath her palm-tree near Ramah, was a 
 prophetess, and ruled in Israel, yet never had been 
 able to so rule the quiet spirit of her husband as to 
 induce him to join the society wherein she was a 
 powerful and favorite speaker ind guide. This was a
 
 58 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 great grief, also a great surprise and discomfiture, to 
 Deborah, who had married in calm opposition to all 
 her relatives and fellow-religionists, because she ad- 
 mired Humphrey's stalwart form and honest English 
 face and manly ways, and fully expected to add to 
 these natural graces all those spiritual ones in which 
 she so abundantly rejoiced. But, greatly to her aston- 
 ishment, the good-tempered, placid fellow, so ready to 
 yield to her in most matters, so impossible to quarrel 
 with, although not hard to wound, developed in some 
 few directions a will as immovable, as silent, and as 
 positive as the Peak o' Derby, in whose shadow it had 
 its early growth. One of these directions was reli- 
 gious : Humphrey did not especially cling to the 
 Church of England, wherein he had been bred, but 
 he distinctly refused to belong to any other ; and the 
 only offensive weapon he ever used, in the discussions 
 he could not always avoid vith Deborah, was the Book 
 of Common Prayer, which he sometimes brought out, 
 and read aloud wherever it happened to open, in a 
 sonorous voice, around and through whose diapason 
 the wife's shrill and thin tones harmlessly wandered, 
 like the twitter of sparrows around the organ of a 
 cathedral. 
 
 Fancy, if you please, Deborah of Ramah's emotions 
 if Lapidoth had declined all sympathy with Barak, 
 and had quite refused to admire Jael, or to listen to 
 his wife's song of triumph I 
 
 Another blank wall agiinst which Dame Wilder 
 presently ran her head was her husband's determina- 
 tion that Molly, the first and only child, should be
 
 MOLLY. 59 
 
 christened in the parish church where her forbears had 
 been for centuries before she was born, and should be 
 educated as they had been in catechism and church- 
 service. 
 
 Deborah submitted simply because she couldn't help 
 it: but she wrung from the conqueror a reluctant 
 consent to join a party of emigrants about leaving 
 Old England for New; for, as she pathetically re- 
 marked, 
 
 " She could better bear her disgrace in the wilder- 
 ness than among her own folk." 
 
 "If it's disgrace to wed an honest man, that's 
 stanch to State and Church, and will have his child so 
 trained, why didst do it, dame?" asked Humphrey 
 calmly ; and Deborah found no reply but tears, and a 
 renewed petition to join the emigrants, to which her 
 husband finally consented ; pleasing himself in select- 
 ing a site for his new dwelling so far from any gather- 
 ing place of Friends that it was only on stated occasions, 
 like the quarterly-meetings, that Deborah could find 
 an audience for the grief and shame she never failed 
 to put in evidence before she finished speaking, how- 
 ever she might begin. Wilder invariably attended 
 these occasions, probably because his British pluck 
 suggested that it would be cowardly to shirk any thing 
 so disagreeable ; but Molly always remembered how, 
 as she sat one Sunday afternoon on her father's knee, 
 and looked with him at the ghastly prints in " Fox's 
 Book of Martyrs," he muttered over one of them, 
 
 " Maybe that chap didn't witness for his faith any 
 stronger in his half-hour with the lions, than another 
 may do in a dozen years or so of pin-pricks."
 
 6O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Who pricked him, father? Show me the picture," 
 demanded Molly ; but, putting her off his knee, the 
 father answered with a short laugh, 
 
 " Never mind, my little maid ; never mind. Come 
 now, say thy catechism and the collect for this day." 
 
 And so they came to America, and settled near 
 some Old-World neighbors named Hetherford, hard by 
 the village of Falmouth at the beginning of Cape Cod ; 
 and here, nourished by the salt Atlantic breeze, and 
 the plenteous freedom of out-door life, as she followed 
 her father around his fields or out in his fishing-boat, 
 Molly Wilder grew from a fragile, lily-white child to a 
 stately maiden, inheriting her father's finely-developed 
 figure and fair English coloring, deepened in the eyes 
 from the honest blue of Wilder's to a deep grey, suit- 
 ing well with their steadfast and earnest expression, 
 and with the black lashes and brows which nature had 
 capriciously borrowed from the mother's dark face to 
 bestow upon her fair daughter. But Molly's mouth 
 and chin were all her own, resembling neither the 
 somewhat rough-hewn and bovine features of her 
 father, nor the thin-lipped shrewish mouth and pointed 
 chin of her mother ; for Molly's chin was wide and 
 soft and creamy-white, with just the faintest depression 
 in its midst, as if Love had been about to set a 
 dimple there, but had been frightened away by the 
 cold purity of the lips above, so bright of tint, so ex- 
 quisite of moulding, so soft and sweet in their rare 
 smiles, but ordinarily so grave. If Valerie de Ro- 
 chenbois' mouth was made for kisses, surely Mary 
 Wilder's was made for prayer ; and if still the kisses
 
 MOLL Y. 6 1 
 
 came, they would be like benedictions, rather than the 
 light caresses Valerie so freely bestowed. 
 
 One of the minor crosses of Deborah Wilder's life 
 (and she lived, so to speak, in a forest of crosses large 
 and small) was her daughter's hair. It was so abun- 
 dant in quantity, so bright in its chestnut tint, so wavy 
 in its growth, mutinously breaking into little burnished 
 curls on the temples, and in the nape of the columnar 
 neck, especially after an encounter with the sweet 
 strong wind, so often Molly's playmate, that it could 
 neither be hidden nor disregarded ; and although the 
 girl herself seemed to take no especial thought of it, 
 beyond brushing it smoothly behind her ears, and 
 knotting it in a great coil at the back of her head, 
 whence it too often slipped, and fell a great burnished 
 serpent, almost to her heels, Deborah was always 
 worrying lest this rare abundance and rich coloring 
 should prove a snare, either to the child herself, or 
 some admirer yet to appear ; and more than once she 
 would have shorn her like a lamb, but that Humphrey 
 sternly forbade; and at last Molly took the matter 
 into her own hands, and quietly met her mother's last 
 proposition to shorten it, with, 
 
 " Nay, mother, father has said he will have my hair 
 as it is, and I shall never touch scissors to it again." 
 
 "Thee has thy father's own stubborn temper," 
 replied Deborah angrily ; but there the matter rested. 
 
 The wagon was ready and waiting ; and Humphrey, 
 stamping his feet, and drawing the muffler tight around 
 his neck, looked dubiously toward the sea, which 
 tossed and moaned restlessly beneath a low-hung.
 
 62 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 stormy sky ; while the gulls, skimming along close to 
 the water, uttered harsh cries of terror or warning as 
 they fled before the chill east wind. 
 
 " It looks set for dirty weather, and that by noon of 
 this day," said the farmer uneasily. "Molly, my 
 maid, I don't feel right to leave you here your lone ; 
 yet you're a brave wench, and a stout one too, and 
 Amariah will be back to-morrow." 
 
 " I'm not afraid, father. Why should I be ? " replied 
 Molly quietly, as she carefully arranged a hot soapstone 
 in the bottom of the wagon for her mother's feet to 
 rest upon. Her father stepped closer, and spoke in a 
 lower voice : 
 
 "The most that worries me is that money in the 
 secretary yon. If it were not for that, I'd say shut up 
 the house, and go stop at neighbor Hethei ford's; but 
 I don't like to leave so much in the house alone, and 
 I don't like any but thee, my lass, to know of it 
 Reuben is a good enough fellow ; but yet " 
 
 " Don't be uneasy, father," interrupted Molly hastily ; 
 for Deborah's voice preceded her out of the house 
 like a blast of the shrill east wind : 
 
 " Mary, Mary ! Surely thee has forgotten the elder- 
 flower wine I was to carry to Friend Mehitable Barker, 
 and the nut-cakes " 
 
 "They're all in, safely, mother," replied Molly, and 
 hurriedly continued in her father's ear, 
 
 " Nobody will know of the money, whatever hap 
 pens; and I will not leave the house until you 
 return." 
 " God bless you, my faithful little girl 1 " muttered
 
 MOLLY. 63 
 
 the father, and turned to meet his wife, who staggered 
 out of the house, her arms full of last packages, and 
 allowed herself and them to be stored in the wagon 
 by Humphrey's somewhat hurried movements, hurling 
 back last charges at Molly all the while. 
 
 " Now don't thee forget, Mary, to change the water 
 on the pickles every day, and feed the hens with hot 
 food ; and mind that Amariah looks well after the pigs, 
 and see if thee can spin out all the rolls I have put in 
 the top drawer ; and be sure have Mercy Hetherford 
 over to sleep with thee every night ; and don't thee 
 let Reuben stay after dark, and " 
 
 But just at this point the horse and his driver came 
 to an understanding, through which the wagon started 
 suddenly forward, cutting short the good dame's 
 speech with a jerk.
 
 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 
 
 A SOBER little smile flitted across Molly's lips 
 as she noted the vivacious manner in which her 
 mother turned upon her father, as the wagon drove 
 away, and fancied the comments she would make upon 
 the jerk with which her directions had been abruptly 
 ended. Then shivering a little she entered the house, 
 but paused on the threshold to look over at the roofs 
 of some farm-buildings half hidden by the sand-hills. 
 
 "I hope Mercy will come before dark, and then 
 Reuben needn't come with her. 'After dark,' says 
 mother ! With my will he'd never come." 
 
 And, closing and barring the front door, Molly 
 passed through the melancholy "fore-room," as the 
 parlor, sacred to visitors and solemn occasions, was 
 called, to the great sunshiny kitchen extending across 
 the back of the house, its wide latticed window looking 
 southerly toward the sea, its porched door opening 
 toward the east, and the family bedroom extending 
 across the western end. Tabitha, the great tortoise- 
 shell cat, came forward to meet her mistress, arching 
 her back and mewing in a sentimental sort of way, 
 which brought another smile to Molly's lips, as, stoop^ 
 inor to pat her, she gayly said,
 
 THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 65 
 
 "Why, Tab, surely you are never going to be lone- 
 some, and so soon too ! You and I are the garrison 
 of the fortress, and must make a brave show, though it 
 be with quaking hearts beneath." 
 
 She gave the cat her breakfast, and then busied her- 
 self in clearing the table, washing the dishes, and 
 various household details, all performed in the rapid, 
 noiseless, and thorough fashion of one who brings to 
 such homely work the will, the mind, and the con- 
 science that would fitly administer the affairs of a 
 castle or a palace, had the individual been so placed. 
 
 Her active work finished, Molly drew the great 
 spinning-wheel to the centre of the glittering kitchen ; 
 and humming cheerily a hunting-song, in which her 
 father often indulged when alone with her in his boat 
 or tossing the hay upon the meadows, she began the 
 graceful toil, than which no sport was ever more be- 
 coming to lithe maiden form 'or shapely hands and 
 arms. 
 
 The song had given place to a quaint old hymn, 
 when a sharp tap upon the southern window made the 
 spinner snap her thread, as she hastily turned to see a 
 man's face pressed against the glass and smiling upon 
 her. Not an unknown or alarming face, but yet a 
 very repulsive face, mean, sordid, cruel, with small 
 gray eyes, too closely set, a narrow hollow brow, scant 
 red hair, hardly perceptible in eyebrows and lashes, 
 although straggling in patches over the cheeks and 
 around the thin-lipped, deceitful mouth. 
 
 And this was the man to whom Deborah Wilder 
 fain would give her only child, and that immediately.
 
 65 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 As Molly recognized him, the song died from her lips, 
 the look of placid content from her eyes ; and, passing 
 to the door, she slipped the bolt across it before she 
 a proached the window, and, opening it a little way, 
 coldly said, 
 
 "Good-morning, Reuben: have you a message?" 
 "Only that Mercy is coming over this afternoon. 
 Shall I tie my horse, and come in for a little? " 
 
 " You know for yourself that my father said you were 
 not to come in unless Mercy was with me : she does 
 not appear to me to be here now." 
 
 "You are over-nice, Mistress Molly. Well, I only 
 came to say to you, that after dinner I am going to 
 ride over to the Corners ; and, if you like, you may go 
 too." 
 
 " But I don't like, thank you, Master Reuben, so 
 that errand is soon done," said Molly scornfully ; and 
 Reuben's scowl did not improve his beauty, as he 
 retorted, 
 
 " You might at least be civil, mistress : what's amiss 
 now, I wonder?" 
 
 " The weather is very much amiss for standing at 
 open windows ; so, if you'll excuse me, I'll e'en close 
 this one, and go on with my work." And with a little 
 laugh, as icy as the wind, she closed the casement, 
 and turned the button securing it, then went back to 
 her wheel without vouchsafing another look at the 
 angry suitor, who went away muttering savagely, 
 
 " Your mother will make you mend your mjtmers, 
 my lady, when she comes home: and, once we're 
 married, I'll see what a little wholesome correct? will 
 do ; I won't forget, never fear."
 
 THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 67 
 
 Ten minutes longer the spinning-wheel kept its 
 rhythmic measure, as you may hear it in Mendelssohn's 
 Lied ; and then of a sudden Molly dropped the thread, 
 and, clasping her hands together, stood with lifted 
 head and steadfast eyes, while over her young face 
 crept the look its lines would have taught a physiog- 
 nomist to sometime expect there, although it might not 
 be for years. 
 
 Joan of Arc resolving to give her young life to 
 France ; Charlotte Corday dedicating hers to Liberty ; 
 Anne Askew consecrating hers to God, all these 
 could recognize that look, and strike hands with one 
 fit to be their sister ; but like other great crises in our 
 lives it passed unseen, unnoted, in silence, save as the 
 girl's pale lips murmured almost inaudibly, 
 
 " No ! let what will come, I have made my mind : 
 I will never be Reuben Hetherford's wife." 
 
 But the moments in which one remains on the pin- 
 nacle of a grand resolve are not minutes, and do not 
 hold a second breath. Even as she spoke, a trouble 
 began to shadow the girl's bright eyes, and dim the 
 hero-light of her expression. Like a cloud, the pre- 
 science of conflict, and weary argument, and slow, 
 crushing oppression, came over her, as she remembered 
 her mother, who, for reasons of her own, had this 
 marriage so much at heart, and who so well knew how 
 to wear out her opponent in ^.y struggle ; and who 
 never relinquished a point, though life was fretted 
 away in fruitless opposition, as in the matter of her 
 husband's religion. All this, and much, much more, 
 passed through the girl's mind in that first prophetic
 
 68 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 flash ; and then she set herself, with the dogged prac- 
 ticality inherited from her father, to consider the 
 matter, point by point, as it would probably develop ; 
 and not so much from her own point of view as from 
 her father's, whom she loved far better than herself, 
 and had of late unconsciously taken under the pro- 
 tection of her own young strength and resolute nature : 
 for the years which sharpened Deborah's tongue, and 
 exasperated her temper, seemed stealing a little from 
 the stone and iron of her husband's resistance ; and 
 a weary look was growing in his eyes, and a harassed 
 wrinkle upon his brow, that made Molly's heart ache 
 sorely when she noted them. 
 
 And in this matter she knew but too well that she 
 herself should not be the only or even the chief suf- 
 ferer; and here was the keenest grief, yet never a 
 shadow of wavering. Did Anne Askew waver when 
 she saw the rack, think you ? or Jeanne d'Arc when 
 she came to her funeral pyre ? And this Molly was of 
 their stuff, and could not shrink, though dearer than 
 her own flesh was to become the martyr. 
 
 But it was with a heavy sigh that she at last drew 
 her hand across her brow, and said, 
 
 " Oh, poor, poor father ! If only I could take it 
 all, and all at once, and never see your dear eyes look 
 so tired again ! But it must go on. Yes " 
 
 She sank into a chair, and sat motionless for a long 
 hour ; while the fire burned low upon the hearth, and 
 the sparkle died out of the burnished pewter platters, 
 and the wheel, but now so joyous, stood mute and 
 motionless, and the cat ceased her purring, and moved
 
 THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 69 
 
 uneasily about the room, muttering a discontented 
 half-mew. Without, the clouds that all the morning 
 had been trooping up from the under-world, and 
 massing their forces far out at sea, found themselves 
 ready to unmask their batteries, and with a shrill blast 
 of onset swept down in a terrific whirl of wind and 
 sleet and sand from the beach, all hurtling together 
 against the window and down the wide-throated chim- 
 ney, swooping the ashes from the hearth far across the 
 floor, and into the cat's great golden eyes, until she 
 arched her back, and spit and miauled in angry terror. 
 
 Roused from her revery, Molly looked about her 
 for a moment abstractedly ; then, with a visible effort 
 at self-command, resuming her usual manner, she rose 
 and went to the window, and saw that the storm had 
 burst in snow and sleet, with every appearance of 
 continuance. 
 
 " All the better. The Hetherfords will keep away," 
 said she aloud, then, looking about her, saw that her 
 careful father had supplied her with wood and water 
 for twenty-four hours at least, and remembered that a 
 man from the Hetherford farm was to look after the 
 live-stock at the barn until Amariah's return with the 
 horse and wagon next day. Then she swept up the 
 ashes, prepared dinner for herself and Tabitha, and, 
 when all was again in order, resumed her spinning, 
 but not her song, no, not even her hymn. Four 
 o'clock, and the outer porch door was thrown vio- 
 lently open, the inner latch rattled, and a shrill voice 
 cried, 
 
 "Molly! Molly Wilder! Let me in ! It's me!"
 
 70 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Why, Mercy ! I never looked for you in this 
 storm ! " exclaimed Molly, hastening to undo the door, 
 and admit the whitened, dishevelled figure of a girl 
 about her own age, but bearing too much resemblance 
 to Reuben Hetherford for beauty, although his scant 
 red locks had developed upon his sister's head into an 
 abundant chevelure of deep auburn, the eyes to a 
 pair of blue orbs twice the size of his, and his thin 
 lips to a pretty, if somewhat shrewish, mouth. Still 
 the family resemblance, the intention of the face, was 
 too marked to allow Mary Wilder, at least, to admire 
 it ; and her manner, though courteous, was certainly 
 a little cool, as she relieved her visitor of her snow- 
 laden scarlet cloak and hood, and placed a chair for 
 her beside the fire. 
 
 "So you didn't expect me?" began the visitor, 
 drawing the long over-stockings from her feet, and 
 extending them to the cheerful blaze. "Well, mother 
 said it was as much as my life was worth to come out ; 
 and if you hadn't acted so silly when Reuben called 
 at noontime, I needn't have come, for she would have 
 sent him to fetch you over." 
 
 " How was I silly? " asked Molly calmly. 
 
 " Why, not letting him in, and running round fasten- 
 ing the doors and windows, as if he was a band of 
 robbers at the very least. Ma'am says it's enough to 
 put bad thoughts in a young man's head, when he 
 wouldn't have had them himself." 
 
 " My father and mother both told me, while Reuten 
 =>at by last night, that I was not to have him in the 
 house except while you were here, and even so, he
 
 THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 7 1 
 
 was not to stay after nine o'clock. Your mothei 
 would not have me disobey my mother, I suppose," 
 said Mary quietly. 
 
 " Well, I don't care, I'm sure," replied Mercy, with 
 a toss of her head. "But she's going to send him 
 over, the minute he gets back from the Corners, to 
 lake us both home on the sled. She says maybe 
 we'd get snowed up here by to-morrow morning ; and, 
 anyway, it's better for you to be over there nights 
 while your mother is away." 
 
 "Your mother is very kind, but I shall stay here," 
 returned Molly still very quietly, although a deep red 
 rose began to burn on either cheek, and her lips 
 closed a little tighter than their wont. 
 
 Mercy looked at her shrewdly for a moment, warm- 
 ing first one, then the other, of her chilled feet, then 
 said, with a short, sharp laugh, 
 
 " My ! Won't you and Reuben just fight when 
 once you're married ! You're mighty proud of never 
 giving in, but I guess you'll find your master then. 
 I used to try to stand out against him sometimes, but 
 I got sick of it." 
 
 "Why, what could he do to make you afraid of 
 him?" asked Molly a little curiously. 
 
 " Stick pins in me, pull my hair, pinch little bits 
 right out of my arms, put things to scare me in the 
 dark, set a dog on me, make mother mad, and lots of 
 things beside. You'll find out if you undertake any 
 high and mighty ways after you're married." And 
 Mercy smiled delightedly at the prospect of the 
 future. Molly smiled too, a smile half contempt, half
 
 72 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 conscious strength, and said, in her calm and even 
 tones, 
 
 "I shouldn't like to have my hair pulled, or my 
 arms pinched, or to be made into a pincushion ; and I 
 think the best way to avoid it will be not to marry 
 Reuben if those are his fashions." 
 
 " Oh ! but you've got to marry him, you know," ex- 
 claimed Mercy, alarmed at the possible result of her 
 revelations. "He'll be good enough to you, of 
 course, especially if you don't contradict him. He 
 thinks every thing of you." 
 
 " Hear the wind ! It will be a dreadful night at 
 sea ! " exclaimed Molly, going to the window, looking 
 out for a moment, and then partially drawing the cur- 
 tain ; but as she did so the cat jumped up in a chair, 
 and, putting her fore-paws upon the window-ledge, 
 looked out intently. Molly laughed blithely, exclaim- 
 ing, 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Tabitha, so I must leave the window 
 uncurtained for your accommodation, must I ? Well, 
 there, you 9hall have a corner to yourself." 
 
 She adjusted the heavy moreen curtain in such a 
 manner as to leave a small portion of the window 
 uncovered, and then, drawing a little table in front of 
 the fire, said cheerily, 
 
 "And now we'll have our tea, and forget every thing 
 beside. Mother made us a whole pantry full of 
 goodies yesterday. She did not seem to think I 
 could take care of myself at all." 
 
 "Did she make some of her pound-cake ?" asked 
 Mercy eagerly; for Mrs. Hetherford's larder was by
 
 THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 73 
 
 no means so bounteous as that of Deborah Wilder, 
 and Miss Mercy was both an epicure and a gourmand. 
 
 The pound-cake was produced, and cut into great 
 golden squares ; the nut-cakes, the snap-gingerbread, 
 the pies, and the sweetmeats were all set forth; the 
 rich cream-toast was steaming upon the table ; and 
 Molly had filled the two glasses with milk, the inno- 
 cent beverage not yet superseded in rural districts by 
 tea or coffee, when a jingle of bells, a stamping of 
 feet, and the sharp rap of a whip-handle upon the 
 door, announced a visitor. 
 
 " It's Reuben, come to take us both home ! " ex- 
 claimed Mercy confidently : and the next moment 
 proved her prophecy correct ; for as Molly opened the 
 door, the shaggy, snow-dropping figure of a man 
 entered the room, and, removing the flapping hat tied 
 over his ears, showed the mean features of Reuben 
 Hetnerford.
 
 4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 T T 7ITH grave hospitality, untinged by any flutter 
 VV of maiden delight in welcoming as guest the 
 man whose life-long guest she may become, Molly 
 Wilder received the new-comer, invited him to throw 
 off his wraps, and to seat himself at the bountiful tea- 
 table. Reuben accepted the invitation with alacrity ; 
 and having placed himself in the seat of honor, at 
 the foot of the table, he asked a blessing, followed 
 at once by a smile of bashful delight, as he added, 
 
 "Seems almost as if we were married already ; don't 
 it, Molly?" 
 
 Molly made no reply: her whole consciousness 
 seemed absorbed in the great resolve she had just 
 made, and never for a moment forgot; and while 
 Reuben, full of vulgar hilarity, heaped his own and his 
 sister's plate with many a jest as to his generosity as a 
 provider, and the bountiful table he loved to keep, and 
 while Mercy, luxuriating in unlimited dainties, forgot all 
 but their enjoyment, their hostess was watching both 
 with dispassionate scrutiny, and figuring to herself a 
 life wherein three times in every day she must confront 
 that crafty and vulgar face, lighted as now by the 
 greed of animal enjoyment, hear those harsh and
 
 MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES. 75 
 
 uncultivated accents, and reply to jests that found no 
 sympathy in her more refined sense of humor, or 
 gossip that did not interest her. She was aroused 
 from this revery by her lover's direct address : 
 
 " You ought to have gone over to the Corners with 
 me, Molly, there was so much news stirring, about 
 the fighting up in Canada, and all that. Say, I suppose 
 you wouldn't let me go up there, and be a soldier, 
 would you? not before we're married anyway, and 
 after that I wouldn't want to go." 
 
 " Do you now ? " asked Molly, with a strong flavor 
 of scepticism in her voice. 
 
 " Well, the pay is better than for farming, especially 
 in the winter-time ; but maybe I'll make some money 
 without risking your chance of getting a husband. 
 They say, over at the Corners, that a big French 
 vessel a man-of-war got driven up the bay by 
 this gale ; you know how it's blown for most a week ; 
 and the Johnny Crappos couldn't manage her, and she 
 got ashore down on the Elizabeth Reefs, and just 
 thumped to pieces there ; that was last night, no, night 
 afore last, and they've got 'em all prisoners down at 
 the fort, that is, most all ; but they think some got 
 away : and they've offered a reward of twenty dollars 
 a head for all that can be found and brought in before 
 next Monday, when they're going to march 'em up to 
 Boston to change off for some of our own men laid 
 by the heels in Quebec. Now, if a fellow cou'.d find 
 one of them lurking round, and get the twenty dollars, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Would you sell a poor, trembling fugitive that 
 listed you? " asked Molly in a low voice.
 
 76 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Would I ? Wouldn't I, though ? " chuckled Reu- 
 ben, filling his mouth with mince-pie. " It would just 
 be fun to lead him on, thinking you were going to hide 
 him away safely, and once he was in the trap, phew ! 
 how quick you'd kick away the prop, and let down 
 the door ! And it ain't likely they'd be armed, so 
 there wouldn't be any great danger." 
 
 "That's a consideration, certainly," replied his 
 fiancee in so strange a voice that Mercy, whose 
 capacity even for pound-cake and cream-toast was 
 utterly exhausted, turned, and looked sharply at her 
 for a moment, then exclaimed, 
 
 "Why, Molly Wilder, what's the matter with you? 
 You're as white as a sheet, and your eyes are like a 
 cat's in the dark. If there'd been any thing to lay it 
 to, I'd say you were awful mad." 
 
 " But as there isn't," said Molly, pushing back her 
 chair. 
 
 "But as there isn't," echoed Reuben, also rising, 
 "I think we'd better be going. You know, Molly, 
 mother wants you to come over there to-night, and 
 stay till the storm's over." 
 
 "Your mother is very kind, as I said to Mercy," 
 replied Molly steadily; "but I cannot leave home." 
 
 " Oh, but you must ! " retorted Reuben with easy 
 positiveness. " Mother and I both think it's best, and 
 mother won't let Mercy stay over here anyway." 
 
 "I am sorry, because in that case I must stay 
 alone," replied Molly, still in her tone of calm and 
 immovable decision. 
 
 Mr. Hetherford began to wax angry, and to ex-
 
 MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES. 77 
 
 change his lover-like tone for the surly and tyrannical 
 one befitting his idea of the marital character and 
 privileges. 
 
 " It's all waste time and breath for you to say any 
 more about it," announced he at length. " You're a- 
 going over to my house in just about ten minutes, and 
 you may as well go with a good grace. A girl like 
 you can't judge what's best for her ; and, while your 
 father and mother are away, me and my mother are 
 the ones to say for you." 
 
 " I do not acknowledge the right at all, Mr. Hether 
 ford, replied Molly coldly ; " and, although very grate- 
 ful to your mother and yourself" 
 
 " Hang all that ! " roared Hetherford : " I say you're 
 to go, and you're going." 
 
 "I deny your right to command, and I shall not 
 obey." 
 
 " I should like to know who has a better right to 
 command a woman than her husband, or he who is 
 soon to be her husband." 
 
 " You will never be my husband, Reuben Hether- 
 ford." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! I've heard girls talk before." 
 
 " I never talk without meaning what I say. I have 
 determined, fully determined, to break off my engage- 
 ment to you, and I now do so. It is a thing alto- 
 gether settled in my own mind, and your violence just 
 now has only hastened the announcement of my pur 
 pose." 
 
 " Nonsense, Molly ! " interposed Mercy, who read 
 more shrewdly than her brother the signs of determi
 
 78 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 nation and strength in the face of her friend, and who 
 wished to temporize if possible, and gain time to 
 bring the maternal forces into the field. " Don't you 
 and Reuben go to quarrelling to-night. Sleep over it, 
 and you'll feel different in the morning ; and, if you 
 won't come over to our house for him, come for me. 
 It's awfully lonesome for us two girls in such a storm 
 as this, in this empty house ; and, besides, I daren't 
 stay when mother has sent for me. She'd be awful 
 mad, and maybe come over after us herself. Do 
 come home with me, and Reuben sha'n't say a word 
 about it, anyway." 
 
 But Molly put her arms about the girl's neck, and, 
 kissing her tenderly, repeated as firmly as ever, 
 
 " I must stay here, Mercy ; for my father and mother 
 left me here, and I must obey them as you do yours. 
 As for Reuben, I do not love him, and I could not 
 make him happy or be happy myself with him ; and it 
 is much better the thing should end just here. I hope 
 you will still be friends with me, Mercy, you and all 
 your house." 
 
 " As for that, I don't know," replied Mercy a trifle 
 viciously, for her temper was getting the upper hand 
 of her diplomacy. "I don't suppose we should 
 feel just the same, any of us. But I don't be- 
 lieve we need spend much time settling all that, 
 until your mother comes home, and we hear what 
 she says." 
 
 "Yes : I guess she'll bring you to your senses, Mis- 
 tress Mary," chimed in Reuben, whose face had for 
 some moments presented a curious study of conflict
 
 MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES. 79 
 
 ing emotions, alarm and wounded love holding place 
 inferior to a sort of cruel impatience, as if he longed 
 above all things else to have this calm and haughty 
 rebel in his power, and to try upon her fair person 
 and disdainful spirit some of those arts of subjugation 
 mentioned by his sister a little while previously. But, 
 looking at him with a smile of superb contempt, she 
 said very quietly, 
 
 " It is of no use for us to talk more upon this mat- 
 ter, Mr. Hetherford. No human power can compel 
 me to become your wife, and most certainly I never 
 will. Neither will I leave this house ; and, since 
 Mercy cannot remain with me, I must remain 
 alone." 
 
 "I wouldn't stay anyhow, after your using my 
 brother such a fashion," exclaimed Mercy angrily. " I 
 reckon you'll sing another song though, after your 
 mother comes home. You'll be glad enough to eat 
 humble-pie then, and maybe " 
 
 " Hold your tongue," interrupted Reuben savagely, 
 he being one of the many persons who cannot endure 
 anybody's ill-temper but their own ; and turning to 
 Molly, with an attempt at her own quiet dignity, he 
 said, 
 
 "Well, Mary, we shall have to leave you, since 
 you're so set on staying ; and if I go out of your house 
 this way I shall not enter it again without a good deal 
 of urging. You had better think twice before you say 
 the last word : you had better look well at the conse- 
 quences ' 
 
 " I have thought and I have looked, and I am quite
 
 80 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 ready and willing to take all the consequences of my 
 decision in both matters," replied Molly calmly ; and 
 without another word Reuben Hetherford flung on his 
 outer garments, and left the house.
 
 THE CONSEQUENCES. 8l 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 TT is one thing to assert one's willingness to take the 
 JL consequences of one's own action, and another to 
 know what to do with them when they come. Molly 
 Wilder was by no means tenderly attached to Mercy 
 Hetherford : but she was her companion of infancy, 
 she was the only girl she had ever familiarly associated 
 with ; she had tried to look upon her as a future sis- 
 ter, and she had always held a place of quiet superi- 
 ority over her. When, therefore, she found her offers 
 of assistance, in muffling her guest against the storm, 
 angrily repulsed; when her efforts at placation pro- 
 duced only bitter retorts, or insulting silence ; when 
 she saw her late friend turn upon the threshold, and 
 ostentatiously wipe the dust from off her feet, before 
 springing into the sleigh Reuben had driven close to 
 the step, a pang such as she had never known in all 
 her placid life stung through her hc^rt. The only girl 
 friend she had ever known repudiated and threw her 
 off ! By her own act, it was true : and not for one 
 moment did the stanch heart waver in its determina- 
 tion ; although, as in a flash - lurid light, she again 
 saw the chance of many a bitterer pang, many a 
 deeper wound, whe.i her mother should know of her
 
 82 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 resolve, and should revenge the disappointment not 
 only upon herself, but the dear father whom she loved 
 better than herself. 
 
 She stood gazing out at the open door, the slow 
 tears rising to her eyes and brimming unheeded over, 
 while the sleigh was slowly turned, and so slowly driven 
 out of the yard, that one might imagine the driver was 
 granting time for even the tardiest of recalls; but 
 none came, and it passed out of sight, leaving the 
 ghostly sound of the snow-muffled sleigh-bells linger- 
 ing for a few moments upon the night ; and then no 
 sight, no sound, but the white expanse of the level 
 waste broken by spectral and snow-sheeted forms of 
 familiar objects, and the hiss of the sleety snow as it 
 smote the unshuttered windows, and heaped itself in 
 fantastic wreaths and drifts about the lonely house. 
 
 A sudden dash of stinging sleet upon her face 
 roused Molly from her abstraction ; and with a heavy 
 sigh she closed the door, shook the snow from her 
 clothes and hair, and, re-entering the kitchen, shut the 
 porch-door, and looked about her. The chairs hasti- 
 ly pushed back, the plates and knives and glasses 
 around the table, even the wet print of feet beside the 
 hearth, all told of late companionship and present 
 abandonment ; and for the first time a little chill of 
 terror crept through the girl's healthy blood, and of a 
 sudden she remembered Reuben's story of the escaped 
 Frenchmen supposed to be prowling in the neighbor- 
 hood. What sort of being a Frenchman might be, 
 Molly did not know; but he was an enemy of "her 
 country if not of herself; and it was not so many years
 
 tHE CONSEQUENCES. 83 
 
 since the Wilders had left their English home, that 
 they should have forgotten one of her prejudices, or 
 ceassd to feel her cause as much their own here in the 
 colony, as there at the centre of government. 
 
 But Molly was constitutionally brave, and not at all 
 given to imagination : so after a momentary glance at 
 the prospect of invasion by a horde of desperate, fully- 
 armed, and ruffianly men, probably black, or at least 
 yellow of complexion, and murderous of demeanor, 
 she set the subject aside, and going back to the door 
 saw that it was securely fastened ; then taking a can- 
 dle she went through the sacred and carefully-closed 
 parlor to the front door, examined that also, recalled 
 to mind the care with which her mother had looked 
 to the security of every window in the house ; and, 
 having thus convinced her reason of the unreasonable- 
 ness of terror, found herself fully prepared for that 
 sort of unreasoning and intangible terror, as impossible 
 to combat as the flying shadows of the windmill sails. 
 
 " There is nothing to be afraid of," said she aloud, 
 as she skurried through the dismal parlor, and closed 
 the door behind her. A fluttering at the heart, al- 
 most depriving her of breath, mocked at her brave 
 words ; and pressing her hand to her side she leaned 
 against the door-casing, and, panting a little for breath, 
 looked slowly around the kitchen. The familiar and 
 homely scene re-assured her: upon the hearth sat 
 Tabitha slowly blinking her great golden eyes at the 
 fire, whose leaping blaze again made mirrors of the 
 pewter platters ranged upon the dresser, turned the 
 precious brazen kettle into a shield of pure gold,
 
 84 ^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 and danced upon the jolly face of the tall clock in the 
 corner, just ready now to strike eight. The bounti- 
 fully-spread table still stood as the convives had left 
 it, and, with the rich colors and picturesque abundance 
 of its viands, made a feature of the scene as attractive 
 in its place as the table spread by young Porphyro for 
 Madeline was in another. 
 
 " We're not afraid, Tabby, are we ? It's a deal 
 better to be alone than to have poor company : don't 
 you think so, puss ? " 
 
 And Molly still a little fluttered, and not quite ready 
 for active employment, sank into the great leathern 
 arm-chair beside the hearth, and stooped to take the 
 cat upon her knee. As she did so a gentle tapping 
 upon the window attracted her attention ; and, turning 
 with a start she saw the face of a man, an utter stran- 
 ger to her, pressed against the pane left uncurtained 
 for Tabitha's convenience, and looking fixedly at her.
 
 THE FRENCH INVASION. 85 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE FRENCH INVASION. 
 
 IN presence of real danger the terrors roused by 
 imagination vanished at once ; and after a moment's 
 steady contemplation of her unknown foe Molly rose, 
 and, crossing the room to the great walnut-wood sec- 
 retary mentioned by her father, she ostentatiously 
 took from one of the drawers a clumsy pistol, such as 
 was then in vogue, and, placing her finger upon the 
 trigger, pointed it toward the window. The wild, 
 white face was not withdrawn : indeed, a faint smile 
 crossed the lips, and with a visible effort they uttered 
 the one word, 
 
 "Bread!" 
 
 Bread ! It was a history ; it was an explanation ; 
 it was a fiat. The man who demands bread at the 
 risk of his life must be in that extremity of need, 
 which, like the presence of death, postpones every 
 other consideration; and Molly's brave yet tender 
 heart would no more have dreamed of refusing such 
 a demand than of deserting her father's death-bed. 
 She threw down the pistol, and turned to the bounti- 
 fully- sp-ead table lying so tantalizingly before the eyes 
 of the starving man ; then pausing, she muttered half 
 aloud,
 
 86 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Drenched and shivering ! He will die out there, 
 and yet " 
 
 She turned empty-handed to the window, and, un- 
 buttoning it, said gently, 
 
 "You need warmth and shelter as much as food. 
 Come round to that door, and I will let you in ; and 
 when you are dry you may go sleep in the barn." 
 
 The wild eyes stared up in her face uncomprehend- 
 ingly ; but as she pointed toward the door, and closed 
 the window, the dimly seen figure moved away, and 
 Mary hastened to undo the door, even despite a gro- 
 tesque terror lest a troop of Frenchmen might be 
 lurking without, and rush in behind this poor, starving 
 wretch who probably feared them as much as she did. 
 As she lifted the latch her fears seemed verified ; for 
 with a swoop and a howl like that of demons or of 
 Sioux warriors, the storm rushed down upon her, tear- 
 ing the door from her hand, and flinging it wide, 
 scattering the fire from the hearth, and so rudely 
 ruffling Tabitha's fur that she set up her back, and 
 spit, then slunk away with flattened ears and bristling 
 tail, to hide beneath the settle. Molly, in spite of her 
 lithe strength, staggered aside before that rude onset, 
 and in so doing escaped a worse one ; for at the back 
 of the blast, hurled like a stone from a catapult, came 
 the figure of a man who, flung forward from the hands 
 of the giant without, staggered headlong, and fell as if 
 dead at Molly's feet. But at first she did not heed 
 him : the fierce attack of the storm had roused the 
 somewhat sluggish temper that had carried more than 
 one of her yeoman ancestors to the fore-front of the
 
 THE FRENCH INVASION. 87 
 
 fray, there to die if need be, but never to yield. 
 Stepping aside from the prostrate form, Molly went to 
 seize the shivering door, and with perhaps unnecessary 
 vigor slam it in the face cf the hooting wind, thrusting 
 out the snow that would have prevented, with her 
 feet. Then, slipping the stout oaken bar into its 
 staples, she nodded triumphantly, and ran to throw 
 back the blazing brands lying out upon the floor. 
 Finally, as the renewed blaze sprang cheerily up, 
 and filled the room with light, she turned to examine 
 this waif thrown upon her hands by famine and storm. 
 He still lay as he had fallen, his head and face clearly 
 visible in the ruddy light; and as Molly glanced at 
 them a sudden misgiving seized her mind : Who was 
 this whom she had invited beneath that lonely roof, to 
 whom she herself had unbarred the safe-shut door? 
 this man, young, handsome, elegant, as she never had 
 seen man before. Miranda-like she noted the clear, 
 fine lines of every feature, the tawny gold of the 
 thick-set hair, and the long moustache sweeping below 
 the chin, the fine teeth gleaming between such haughty 
 lips, and the white, smooth hand with its great ame 
 thyst ring. 
 
 Had a stranger such as this come to Mary Wilder's 
 door in health and strength asking hospitality, she 
 would, spite of storm and cold and hunger, have 
 told him in her calm and gentle fashion that it was 
 quite impossible for her to receive him, and he must 
 go on ; but now here he was, and what was to be 
 done but feed and waim and help him? But why 
 did he not move ?
 
 88 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 At this point of her perplexed inspection, Molly 
 started in horror : the left arm, upon which the sense* 
 less man lay, was doubled beneath him in a manner 
 impossible to a perfect limb. Surely it was broken. 
 
 Raising the head and shoulders as carefully as 
 possible, and resting them upon her knee, Molly 
 drew out and straightened the wounded member ; but 
 gently as she did it the pain brought consciousness, 
 and with a deep groan the wounded man opened his 
 eyes, and after some wandering regards fixed them so 
 piercingly upon the young girl's face that she colored 
 deeply as she said, 
 
 " You are very much hurt, I am afraid, sir." 
 
 " Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle : je suis f&che " 
 
 murmured the stranger ; and then his voice trailed off 
 in an inarticulate murmur, and he was again insensible. 
 These few words, however, had told the story, and 
 completed the discomfiture of Molly's mind. The 
 Frenchmen had come indeed ; and this, chief perhaps 
 of a band of desperate marauders, was lying here in 
 the midst of her own kitchen, nay, his head upon her 
 knee. A thrill of mingled terror and excitement not 
 altogether unpleasant sped along Molly's unused 
 nerves, and sent a deep flush to her cheek ; then laying 
 the handsome head gently upon the floor she went to 
 fetch a cushion to place beneath it, murmuring, 
 
 " I must not let him die though he be my enemy ; 
 and my two arms are sound, thank God, and his is 
 broken." 
 
 Then from her mother's cupboard she brought the 
 bottle of strong waters, never used save in times of
 
 THE FRENCH INVASION. 89 
 
 need, the hartshorn, the camphor, the flannels for rub- 
 bing, and all the simple arcana of domestic remedies 
 which every skilful housewife of those days kept on 
 hand, and well knew how to apply. Under this treat- 
 ment the scattered senses once more returned, and the 
 bold blue eyes again fastened curiously upon the 
 girl's face, bending over him, and continued to watch 
 her as she went to warm some broth left from dinner. 
 
 " It's lucky I didn't give you any more of it, 
 Tabby," whispered she, as the cat rubbed appealingly 
 against her feet, and the Frenchman, with a faint 
 smile, added, 
 
 " Non, Minon, non / " 
 
 "Here is some broth. Shall I feed you?" asked 
 Molly, sitting down upon the floor beside her patient, 
 who replied by opening his mouth; so, raising his 
 head again upon her arm, she gravely and deftly pro- 
 ceeded to administer the food, which her patient re- 
 ceived with both the eagerness of starvation and the 
 restraint of civilization. 
 
 As she laid him back upon the cushion a frown of 
 pain contracted the brows ; and, glancing down at the 
 wounded limb, he muttered some words in French, 
 and then, turning to Molly, slowly said, 
 
 " Man arm, it is to break." 
 
 " Your arm is broken ? Yes : I am very sorry, and 
 yet more sorry that I know not how to help you," 
 replied Molly sadly, her ready sympathy entirely re- 
 pressing her somewhat dormant sense of humor. Th 
 stranger shook his head impatiently at finding himself 
 unable to understand her fluent speech, and th<!n,
 
 90 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 silently moving his lips for some moments as if con- 
 ning some half-forgotten lesson, he said in the same 
 slow fashion, 
 
 " I am doctor, me. I can to make whole tne arm 
 the men to break." 
 
 " You are a doctor, and can set broken arms for 
 people, do you mean ? " asked Molly slowly. " But can 
 you set your own? This one?" touching it as she 
 spoke. The stranger listened eagerly, and with a 
 smile, brilliant even through its wanness, replied, 
 
 "Yes. To set, it is true. I do know so few Eng- 
 lish." 
 
 " So little English," corrected Molly, smiling in re- 
 turn; and from that moment the two began in the 
 freemasonry of youth and necessity and mutual liking 
 to invent a language, half very, very poor English, 
 half signs and looks and inflections of voice, a little 
 dashed with French whose meaning Molly guessed, 
 and largely tinctured with that sort of magnetism by 
 which some persons comprehend each other, they 
 know not how. 
 
 In some one or in all of these ways the stranger 
 soon made Molly comprehend that the broken arm 
 must be attended to without further delay, and that 
 splints, bandages, and other matters were to be pro- 
 vided ; and Molly understood and obeyed all with a 
 quick intelligence, delighting her patient, who told 
 her in excellent French that she should have been a 
 Sister of Mercy upon a field of battle. Molly, per- 
 ceiving at a glance that this speech was a mere matter 
 of expression, and not of direction, simply smiled in
 
 THE FRENCH INVASION. 9! 
 
 reply, and went on splitting pieces off a bit of planed 
 board by means of a sharp little hatchet, which her 
 guest presently remarked in French would have made 
 a far more efficient weapon in her hands than the 
 pistol with which she had threatened him. 
 
 Merely nodding her head good-humoredly at this 
 second address without meaning to her ears, Molly 
 proceeded to tear some strips from an old linen sheet, 
 and to lay out some pins, a basin of warm water, soft 
 towels, and finally, with a look of inquiry, to pour 
 some of the Holland gin into a glass, and set it 
 beside the other matters. 
 
 " Yes, my child, it will very likely be wanted, for 
 this will be no painless matter," muttered the young 
 man in his own language, as he sat upright in the 
 easy-chair where he had hitherto reclined, and began 
 to try to pull off his coat. Molly gravely and mod- 
 estly proffered her help, and by slitting the sleeve of 
 the broken arm from wrist to shoulder, the garment 
 was removed ; the waistcoat came more easily ; then 
 the young man with his right hand untied and re- 
 moved his cravat, unbuttoned his shirt at the neck, 
 and looked at Molly, who blushed scarlet, but steadily 
 stood waiting to perform the services nobody else was 
 there to render. 
 
 " Unefille brave et pure commc un angc" said the 
 doctor, rebuttoning his collar; and then pointing to 
 the scissors upon the table, he gestured to Molly that 
 she should cut away the sleeve of the shirt without 
 removing the garment; she did it at once, and the 
 wounded limb was laid bare. Molly uttered a little
 
 9 2 
 
 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 cry of dismay, for the bone had in one place pro- 
 truded through the flesh, and the whole arm was 
 bruised and wounded cruelly. 
 
 "Yes, it is to look sick," said the doctor, noticing 
 her consternation. "The vessel went to wreck itself 
 above the rocks. I in the water. The water so 
 strong, so terrible, to hurl one into the rocks. My 
 arm to go between this and that rock ; the water to 
 hurl me again, and my arm to stay there. What mar- 
 vel that it broke me?" 
 
 His animated gestures, voice, and eyes made mean- 
 ing of his oddly-chosen words; and Mary compre- 
 hended all, and replied softly, 
 
 " God was very good to bring you alive out of such 
 peril." 
 
 "God, le bon Dieu, yes 1 He is good al 
 ways," replied the other, bending his head devoutly, 
 while Mary began softly to wipe away the crusted 
 blood from the edges of the wound. The patient 
 watched her movements attentively, and said to him- 
 self half aloud, 
 
 " A good nurse, a capital little nurse, but will she 
 endure seeing the operation? She will lose her head 
 when she hears the bones grate against each other, 
 and then Oh for one of my old comrades of the 
 hospital, or even my dear abb ! Where is he now, 
 I wonder? Food for fishes, or prisoner to those dogs 
 of Englishmen?" 
 
 He ground his teeth, and Molly thought it was in 
 pain. 
 
 "Do I hurt you? Do I touch you too roughly?"
 
 THE FRENCH INVASION. 93 
 
 asked she gently ; and the courteous stranger smiled 
 re-assuringly into her face as he replied, 
 
 " Hurt me ? Oh, never, never ! It is you who are 
 my good angel ! " 
 
 "And now what next?" asked Molly, completing 
 her task a little hastily, for these words were English 
 without need of an interpreter. 
 
 The doctor looked at his arm, and shook his head. 
 
 " It will be difficult, it will be painful," said he in 
 French. " She cannot do it, I will not ask it : I must 
 try for myself." 
 
 He looked about him, and fixed his eyes upon one 
 of the iron staples used to secure the bar across the 
 door ; then, partly by motions, partly by broken lan- 
 guage, he instructed Molly to cut a strong band of 
 linen, to tie it securely around the wrist of the 
 wounded arm, and finally to loop it over the staple. 
 Then with patient iteration and pantomime, he made 
 her understand that so soon as the bone was pulled 
 into place, whether he was insensible or not, she was 
 to apply the splints and the bandages in the manner 
 already explained to her, and secure them in place 
 before attending to any thing else. . 
 
 Molly, very pale, but bright-eyed and resolute, nod- 
 ded comprehension, and watched as the loop of linen 
 was laid over the staple ; and the practised surgeon, 
 manipulating the wounded arm with his right hand, 
 began steadily to draw upon it, while great beads of 
 anguish stood out upon his brow, and his teeth ground 
 together in agony ; then came the horrible grating of 
 the fractured bone, and then the snap as the ends 
 suddenly fitted into place.
 
 94 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "Les eclisses, the wood ! " murmured the patient, 
 sinking into the chair Molly had pushed close behind 
 him. 
 
 ' Yes ; I understand ; drink a sip of this to keep 
 yoj from fainting, and I will bind it up," said she, 
 holding the glass to his pallid lips. 
 
 A few moments later the arm was properly secured 
 and safely slung in one of Humphrey Wilder 's great 
 silk handkerchiefs ; and then Mary opened the door 
 of the bedroom, prepared the bed, and, coming back 
 to her half-fainting patient, she took his right arm, laid 
 it about her own Juno-like shoulders, and slowly rising, 
 half lifted him to his feet, put her arm around his 
 waist, and so led him to the bed and laid him upon it. 
 Then she drew off his soaked and ragged boots and 
 stockings, brought a jug of hot water, and placed at 
 his feet, covered him warmly, and bending above him, 
 as a mother might above her child, softly said, " Good- 
 night ! Our Father keep and help you 1 " 
 
 Then closing the door, she went to sit beside the 
 fire, and cry her pure eyes almost blind in maiden 
 shame and loneliness.
 
 THE ROSY DA WN. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE ROSY DAWN. 
 
 IN the gray light of the next morning Molly Wilder 
 roused herself from an uneasy sleep upon the set- 
 tle beside the fire, smouldered now into a heap of 
 warm ashes, within whose confines Tabitha crouched, 
 purring sleepily, her head upon her folded paws. For 
 a few moments the young girl lay staring about her, 
 wondering at her strange situation, and vaguely recall- 
 ing events so romantic and so utterly foreign to her 
 usual life that at first she mingled them with her 
 dreams ; but when her eyes fell upon the coat hang- 
 ing over a chair beside the hearth, the litter of ban- 
 dages and splints upon the table, and the linen band 
 still hanging from the staple, the whole scene of the 
 previous night returned upon her ; and, springing to 
 her feet, she went at once to peep in at her patient. 
 
 He slept, but uneasily, for rising fever already 
 tinged his cheeks and parched his lips ; and, while 
 Molly bent over him, he turned his head, moaned 
 heavily, and muttered some words of which she only 
 distinguished the name, " Valerie ! " 
 
 " It will be the name of his sweetheart, no doubt," 
 said Molly to herself with a little pang of novel pain ; 
 aid still she stood reading the unconscious face, and
 
 96 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 wondering if in the great world she had never seen, 
 there were more men as noble, as handsome, as charm- 
 ing of manner, as this waif, so strangely cast by the 
 waves at her very door, and yet not for her, but this 
 Valerie, whoever she might be ; and she wondered if 
 Valerie, in her far-off stately home, would ever know 
 and be grateful to humble Mary Wilder, the colonial 
 farmer's daughter, who had nursed her lover back to 
 life when else he might have perished. 
 
 From these unprofitable musings she was roused by 
 a knock upon the outer door, so loud as to break the 
 light slumber of the invalid, whose eyes flew open with 
 a look of ready alarm. 
 
 " Be still, be very quiet ; make no noise, for your 
 life ! " exclaimed Molly in a low and impressive voice ; 
 and then, running on tiptoe into the kitchen, she col- 
 lected every article belonging to or betraying the pres- 
 ence of the stranger, and bringing them into the bed- 
 room threw them down upon a chair, and closed the 
 door. By this time the knock was repeated louder 
 and longer than before. Molly glanced about the 
 room, arranged her own dress a little, and went to 
 open the door. A middle-aged man, with a round 
 foolish face, set in a hay-colored beard just now full 
 of icicles, stood upon the step, stamping, and slapping 
 his hands, covered with great striped yarn mittens of 
 Deborah Wilder's manufacture ; for this was Amariah 
 Coffin, the Wilders' hired man, and a privileged mem- 
 ber of the household. Molly, who had feared Reu- 
 ben Hetherford, or some messenger from that family, 
 greeted the alternative with relief.
 
 THE ROSY DA WN. 97 
 
 "Good-morning, Amariah ! when did you get 
 home?" 
 
 "Just now. Your mother was so scared at the 
 arind last night, that she sent me off as soon as the 
 horse was rested. I suppose she thought I could 
 hold the roof on, or talk to the pigs and stop their 
 squealing : they always have such a lot to say when 
 the wind blows; some folks think it's because the 
 devils were sent into them, and the old gentleman is 
 always busy in a gale of wind." 
 
 " Well, I suppose you would like some breakfast 
 pretty soon, wouldn't you ? " 
 
 " Bless your heart, no, child ! didn't you know I 
 was to board over to Hetherford's while the folks are 
 gone ? Surely your ma'am told you." 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes ! I had forgotten." And Molly blushed 
 scarlet at her own pre-occupation of thought; but 
 Amariah was already building up the fire, and did not 
 notice her confusion, as he went on to say, 
 
 " No : what I want is to make some warm porridge 
 for the lambs, and get whatever you have for the pigs. 
 If the hens' victuals are ready, I'll carry that out too, 
 for it's kind of snowy for you." 
 
 An odd feeling of annoyance crept over the young 
 girl's mind as these homely details of her daily life 
 were pressed upon it, and she glanced unconsciously 
 at the bedroom door as dreading lest they should 
 penetrate within it ; but in the next moment she took 
 herself severely to task, and a feeling of honest shame 
 at her momentary treason sent the blood again to her 
 cheeks.
 
 98 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Yes, these matters of lambs and pigs and poultry 
 were her life, and her father's and mother's lives ; and 
 she was not going to disown them for all the hand- 
 some shipwrecked gentlemen the waves could ever 
 bring to her. No doubt "Valerie " was a dainty lady 
 who- had never heard of such vulgar details, but that 
 was not her affair. She should do her duty by this 
 wounded man, nurse him and shelter him, and, when 
 he was weU, help him to escape from Reuben Hether- 
 ford, and all the other cowards who would betray and 
 sell him, and then he would go back to his Valerie ; 
 and she well, at least, she never could be forced to 
 marry Reuben Hetherford. 
 
 Amariah's rough voice broke in upon her revery 
 with a laugh. "Well, Molly, I should think it was 
 shearing-time by the way your wits are wool-gathering. 
 Where's Mercy Hetherford, I say?" 
 
 " Oh ! she didn't come ; or rather, she didn't stay ; " 
 and then Molly hurriedly explained the occurrence 
 of the previous night, while Amariah, who took a 
 fatherly interest in all affairs of the child who had 
 grown into womanhood under his eyes, listened atten- 
 tively, one hand shading his face from the leaping 
 flame, while with the other he mechanically stirred the 
 porridge for his lambs, his goggling blue eyes fixed 
 upon Molly's face. 
 
 " Sho ! " exclaimed he at last : " now the fat's all in 
 the fire; and won't ma'am be mad when she gets 
 home and finds what a spot of work you've cut out for 
 her? Did you tell Reuben up and down you wouldn't 
 have him?"
 
 THE ROSY DA WN. 99 
 
 "No matter about that. All is, Mercy won't be 
 here to sleep or to help me, and I don't want you to 
 ask any of them to come. I'm not at all afraid of 
 being alone six days." 
 
 " 'Cause, if you did," pursued Amariah sturdily, " I 
 shall tell him not to take you at your word till after 
 your mother gets home. She'll fix it." 
 
 " Amariah ! Don't you dare to say such a word to 
 Reuben Hetherford, or to say any thing about me in 
 any way. It is surely no concern of yours." 
 
 " No consarn of mine, when I used to drag you 
 both on one sled, and take you both up on Dobbin, 
 and O Gee rusalem ! " 
 
 This final exclamation was not, as might be sup- 
 posed, the result of injured feeling on the old man's 
 part, but of a great spatter of boiling porridge, 
 launched from the unwatched kettle upon his wrist, 
 and inflicting a burn painful enough to absorb all his 
 attention for some moments. Molly, thankful for any 
 change in the conversation, busied herself in spread- 
 ing some of her mother's simple salve upon a cloth, 
 and binding up the wrist as cleverly, if not as tremu- 
 lously, as she had done the broken arm of the previous 
 night. Amariah submitted gratefully, and, when it was 
 finished, said, 
 
 " There, now ! That's better than new. You're a 
 master-hand at comforting a fellow's hurts, Molly, and 
 I'll do as much for you some day." 
 
 " Do it to-day, by promising not to speak of me tc 
 Reuben Hetherford, or to any of the Hetherfords,' 1 
 said Molly, so quickly that Amariah laughed aloud.
 
 100 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "Short accounts make long friends, you say," 
 chuckled he. "Well, I'm a man of my word, and 
 it's a bargain. Blow the horn if you want any thing. 
 I'll come and shovel the paths, and draw some water, 
 after I've done my milking and got my breakfast." 
 And with this brief valedictory, Amariah took his 
 bucket of mush, and went out to the barn. Molly 
 slipped the bolt upon the outside door, drew a long 
 breath, and hastened back to her patient. She found 
 him wide awake and very feverish. 
 
 "Is it the English to prisoner me?" demanded he, 
 catching Molly's hand in his burning fingers, and 
 grasping it painfully. 
 
 " No, no," replied she soothingly, " it is a friend : 
 we are all friends to you, and will prove ourselves so. 
 You are quite safe here, and I will care for you." 
 
 " Foi de what name are you, mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Mary, Mary Wilder, and your friend." 
 
 " Marie, nom de la sainte vierge, nom de lafoi, nom 
 beletbon! 
 
 "And what may I call you, my friend?" asked 
 Molly, interrupting the feverish murmurings with her 
 cool, clear voice, like a breath of morning air pene- 
 trating the close, warm room of an invalid. 
 
 " To call me, say you, Marie," replied the stranger, 
 fixing his burning eyes upon her face. "They .call me 
 Francois le baron mais non, non I je riai pas de 
 nom, de la fatrie, ou des amis " 
 
 "Francois, did you say?" asked Mary again, as 
 she drew her hand from the detaining fingers, and 
 smoothed the hair from the scorching brow. " Well,
 
 THE ROSY DAWN. IOI 
 
 then, Francois, try to believe that Mary will protect 
 you, and care for you until you are well, and keep 
 yourself just as quiet and peaceful as you can. Do 
 you understand, do you believe?" 
 
 "I believe in Marie, la sainte Marie," murmured 
 Francois dreamily; and Molly softly went into the 
 outer room to prepare such simple food as she knew 
 was best for him, to contrive means for his comfort 
 and security, and to go about her own homely duties, 
 wondering the while at the strange new joy and light 
 that had come into her life, transforming its dull 
 monotony into an absorbing romance, and all at once 
 enlarging its horizon, as if from a narrow valley she 
 had climbed some sun-clad height, and found an un- 
 known world lying at her feet, bathed in the glory of 
 that light that never was on sea or shore.
 
 102 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE DAGGER OF REGINALD DE MONTARNAUD. 
 
 THE day went busily on. About noon, Amariah 
 having dug a series of artistic paths in various 
 directions, swept the snow from the wood-pile and 
 chip-yard, drawn fresh water, and made the circuit 
 of the house to see that all looked as it should, 
 came into the kitchen to warm his hands, and have a 
 word with Molly, who received him less cordially than 
 usual, fearing that some sound from the bedroom 
 might betray the presence of her charge, whose in- 
 creasing fever rendered him restless and talkative. 
 Fortunately, Amariah, being subject to earache in cold 
 weather, had tied a red knitted comforter over the top 
 of his head and under his chin ; and while this gar- 
 ment no doubt added to his personal beauty, it seri- 
 ously impeded his powers of hearing and his quickness 
 of movement. 
 
 " Say, Molly," began he, after a brief account of the 
 condition of matters under his charge at the barn and 
 elsewhere, "have you heard any thing about those 
 Frenchers that are lurking round Falmouth?" 
 
 " Reuben Hetherford said something about it," re- 
 plied Molly carelessly. " Has he found them yet? " 
 
 "No; but I shouldn't wonder if he did, for he's
 
 THE DAGGER OF DE MONTARNAUD. IOJ 
 
 looking everywhere. He came over to our barn this 
 morning, and hunted the mows as if he was looking 
 for a stolen nest." 
 
 "He did? I wonder at his impudence, then ! If 
 he comes again I wish you would tell him that while 
 my father is away I am in charge of his property, and 
 that I don't allow any intrusions. Mind now, Amariah, 
 I mean it ; and I won't have Reuben Hetherford or 
 any one else peeping and prying round the place." 
 
 "Sho, Molly, what's got into you to flare up that 
 way about a trifle ? I don't seem to know you to-day. 
 I expect it's all along of getting mad with Reuben 
 yesterday. Well, well, there's three things a wise man 
 can't understand, and one of 'em is, the way of a man 
 with a maid ; but so fur as I see, the way of a maid 
 with a man is contrarier yet. But say, Molly, I 
 shouldn't so much wonder if one of them 'ere fellows 
 was somewhere round these parts, after all. I wouldn't 
 say it to scare ye, but I do wish that you'd go over to 
 Hetherford's for the nights. I'd feel a heap safer 
 about ye." 
 
 " What makes you think anybody is about here ? " 
 asked Molly, turning pale, and sitting down suddenly. 
 
 " There, now, you're scared ; and that was just what 
 \ didn't mean to do. Tain't nothing, child, but " 
 
 " Yes, it is, Amariah, and I want to know what. I 
 am not at all frightened, but it is right that while 
 father is away I should be told of every thing that 
 happens about the place. Tell me, please." 
 
 There was an air of quiet authority in her voice 
 that penetrated through the red comforter even to the
 
 IO4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 old man's dull brain ; and he looked in some surprise t 
 the handsome woman standing tall and straight before 
 him, realizing, perhaps for the first time, how far she 
 was removed from the little child whom he had 
 coaxed, or frightened, or spoiled, or laughed at, a few 
 years before. For a moment or two he said nothing ; 
 but when he did speak it was in an altered voice : 
 
 "Well, the fact is, Mistress Mary, that I saw foot- 
 steps round the well this morning that must have been 
 made after the snow fell last night. Now, I don't 
 suppose you went out there ; and there was nobody else 
 in the house, you say." 
 
 " The wind blowing all night would have filled them 
 up if they had been made before morning. Probably 
 some one going by stopped to drink, or else " 
 
 "They was made last night, and the water being 
 spilt round the places froze right up ; and when I 
 swept off the light snow this morning, there they was. 
 They was made in the first part of the storm last 
 night." 
 
 "Well, is that all?" 
 
 The question was abrupt and impatient. We who 
 know all, can understand that the girl's nerves were 
 sharpened and alert to discover the extent of her 
 danger as speedily as possible; but Amariah only 
 thought her peremptory and ill-natured, and answered 
 dryly, - 
 
 "No, it ain't all. When I looked round the barn 
 after daylight, I saw plain enough that some one had 
 been there since I left yesterday morning." 
 
 " Of course there had. Reuben Hetherford put up 
 his horse last night."
 
 THE DAGGER OF DE MONTARNAUD. 1 05 
 
 " I know he did. But it ain't very likely Reuben 
 Hetherford raked down a lot of hay off the mow, and 
 made a sort of bed in one of the empty stalls, and, 
 when he'd done with it, kicked it under the oxen's 
 feet and left it there. Now, who but a Frencher 
 vould suppose I bedded down my cattle with good 
 English hay? Tell me that, will you? " 
 
 "Very likely father did it in his hurry of going 
 away, or perhaps Reuben threw it down, and the oxen 
 got it under their feet, or " 
 
 " Well, then, ' Mary, Mary, quite contrary,' " ex- 
 claimed the old man in a passion, " what will you say 
 to the knife I found in that stall? A thing such as 
 murderers and house-breakers and Frenchers carry in 
 their pockets to kill innocent folk in their beds ! A 
 knife with crinkle-crankles all over the blade, and a 
 handle all fixed off with gold, and topped with a cross 
 a regular Papist cross such as drove us all out of 
 merry England to this savage country, where you can't 
 so much as get a crop of barley off the sand and 
 rocks they call land." 
 
 " Did you really find such a knife, Amariah? " asked 
 Molly in a low voice. 
 
 "Yes, I did, child; and though I wouldn't have 
 scared you by telling of it if you hadn't been so pro- 
 voking with your perhapses and perhapses, I'm kind 
 of glad the cat's out of the bag, after all ; for now I 
 reckon you'll have some sense, and go over to " 
 
 " Where is that knife ? Show it to me." 
 
 " I hain't got it : you'll have to take my word for 
 it ; and I haven't generally been called a liar."
 
 106 A NAMELESS 
 
 " You haven't got it ! Where is it, then ? " 
 
 " Reuben Hetherford can tell if you're o' mind to 
 ask him about it." 
 
 " O Amariah ! have you given it to him ? " 
 
 "Why, yes. What's got into you, child? I don't 
 know you for the same since your folks went away." 
 
 "But what for? Tell me all about it, do, good 
 Amariah ! tell me the wnole story." 
 
 " Well, if you won't be so scared, and look so white. 
 Lor, child, you ain't so growed-up now as you was a 
 while ago. There, set down in your little chair, and 
 I'll tell you ; though, come to think of it, there ain't 
 such a sight more to tell. I found the thing, a dagger 
 they call it, I believe, in the stall where they had laid 
 down for a sleep ; and when they went away one of 
 'em dropped it I expect. So when I went over to 
 breakfast, I carried it along, and showed it to Reub ; 
 and he was dreadful worked up about it, thinking 
 he'd catch the fellow right off, and get the bounty, 
 twenty dollars, you know. And so he asked me to let 
 him take it, and I did ; and as soon as breakfast was 
 over, he came over and searched our barn, and then 
 he rode off post-haste, and says he'll track the feller 
 twenty mile but what he'll find him." 
 
 The story finished, Amariah began slowly to button 
 himself into his great frieze coat, and to draw on the 
 monstrous mittens which had been sedulously toasted 
 during his stay upon the spears of the great iron and- 
 irons. Mary sat in her little chair mute and white ; 
 her hands tightly locked upon her knee, her eyes 
 bteadfastly regarding the foolish round face of the old
 
 THE DAGGER OF DE MONTARNAUD. 1 07 
 
 man. She was considering how far it was best to trust 
 him, and whether he might prove a valuable ally. She 
 knew his fondness for herself, and his honesty and 
 singleness of heart ; but she also knew how incompetent 
 his simple nature was to cope with the cunning and 
 determination of Reuben Hetherford's, and she deter- 
 mined not to trust him, for the present at least 
 
 So Amariah, much to his discontent, found himself 
 allowed to depart with no token of relenting upon the 
 part of his young mistress in the Hetherford direction ; 
 and Molly shot the bolt behind him, and flew back to 
 the bedside of her patient with the feeling of mingled 
 relief and terror of a mother-bird who sees the preda- 
 tory urchin pass by her nest, and knows not when he 
 may return and rifle it. 
 
 Francois looked up at her with haggard eyes. 
 
 " He is burned in a fire ; he is too tight," murmured 
 he plaintively. Mary read his meaning by intuition. 
 
 " Your poor arm is too tightly bandaged ! " ex- 
 claimed she. " That is soon set to rights. O Fran- 
 cois ! I will do a great deal before I let them take 
 you." 
 
 He did not understand the words, but he did the 
 tone, and gratefully murmured in his own language, 
 
 " It is an angel sent by the good God to care for 
 me. Not a woman, women are false and cruel, 
 women are Valerie." 
 
 She heard the name : she could not know in what 
 connection it was spoken, and a sharp pain ran through 
 her heart, and blanched her lips. 
 
 " Never mind ! " murmured she, " I will nurse you
 
 IO8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 and care for you, and defend you with my own life if 
 need be ; and when all is done you shall go and b< 
 happy with your Valerie." 
 
 The arm was cooled and bound up, the feverish 
 face and neck softly bathed, the yellow hair, so strong 
 and thickset that it seemed more like golden wire 
 than hair, reduced to order, even the long moustaches 
 combed and arranged, and then Mary stood looking 
 and meditating. Fastidious neatness was part of her 
 religion, both natural and revealed : besides this, she 
 was an excellent nurse ; and neither a neat woman nor 
 a good nurse would voluntarily select a very soiled and 
 tattered shirt and a pair of military trowsers as the best 
 and most comfortable costume for an invalid ; but how 
 was she to remedy the matter? 
 
 She went to the great chest-of-drawers at the end 
 of the bedroom, and took out one of her father's 
 capacious and comfortable vestments, carried it into 
 the kitchen, and hung it over the back of a chair in 
 front of the fire ; standing beside it she looked down 
 at Tabitha, who was just awakening from a nap, and 
 softly said, 
 
 "You'd do it, Tabby, wouldn't you?" And then 
 covering her face in both her hands, she stood quiet a 
 moment, and whispered to herself, 
 
 " It is nought but selfishness to count the cost wl en 
 one may help a sick and wounded man. It is not 
 Molly who is to be thought of now, but Francois." 
 
 Then taking her scissors and the warm garment in 
 her hands, she went back to the bedside, and saying 
 very soberly, and in her mother's dialect,
 
 THE DAGGER OF DE MONTARNAUD. IOQ 
 
 "It is right that thee should have some clean 
 clothes, Francois ; " she swiftly cut around the bind- 
 ing and down the other sleeve of the fragment of a 
 shirt, raised the head and shoulders of her patient 
 upon her strong right arm, and deftly threw the clean 
 garment over his head, contriving to draw the loose 
 wide sleeve over the broken arm without more pain 
 than could be silently borne. 
 
 "And now I think thee can take off thy other 
 clothes, and move to the fresh side of the bed, while 1 
 make thee some gruel," said Mary in a calm maternal 
 voice, hiding so completely the quaking of her girlish 
 heart, and the shame of her maiden modesty, that the 
 young man looked up at her in quick surprise ; but as 
 his eyes met hers he read so well the doubt, and self- 
 control, and pain in their calm depths, that he needed 
 not to look again, and only replied gravely, 
 
 " I thank you, mademoiselle : I can to do so." 
 
 So Mary closed the door, and, falling upon her knees 
 beside Tabitha curled in the armchair, buried her face 
 in her vari-colored fur, and wept a few hot sudden 
 tears. One must have some sympathy, and Tabitha 
 was a good confidante, for she never said, "I told 
 you so," and never repeated what was said to her.
 
 1 10 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MRS. HETHERFORD TAKES PITY ON MAUY. 
 
 E gruel was made and taken, the bedroom 
 
 JL was arranged in its usual orderly fashion, all 
 traces of the stranger within its precincts, except his 
 actual presence, were carefully put away ; and about 
 three o'clock, Molly, a little weary at last, sat down 
 beside the bed to rest, and watch the unquiet slumbers 
 of her patient. The fever, a little subdued by the 
 bathing and clean linen, had returned ; and although 
 the sick man slept, it was brokenly, and with incessant 
 murmurs and tossings, which constantly threatened to 
 disarrange the wounded arm, and make matters worse 
 than in the beginning. 
 
 While Molly vainly sought by fanning, or re-arran- 
 ging the pillows, or gently bathing the burning fore- 
 head, to still these restless motions, she was startled 
 by a sharp and sudden knock upon the outer door. 
 
 " Q.u'est-ce que c*est! " exclaimed Francois sharply, 
 and starting up in his bed. Molly gently replaced his 
 head upon the pillow. 
 
 " Keep very still ! Do not speak or stir," said she 
 in a firm, low voice. " Some one is coming in, and 
 must not hear you. There is danger if they do." 
 
 " Danger, danger I Les mautits Anglais," whis-
 
 MRS. HETHERFORD PITIES MARY. Ill 
 
 pered Francois deliriously. Mary nodded without 
 frying to understand, placed her finger upon her lips, 
 and left the room carefully, closing the door, and draw- 
 ing her great spinning-wheel across it. Then she 
 nastened to open the outer door ; and not too soon, 
 for the visitor was knocking loudly and impatiently 
 upon it. As she raised the latch, a much-muffled and 
 irate woman pushed impatiently in. 
 
 " Mrs. Hetherford ! " exclaimed Molly. 
 
 " Yes, it's me ; and I didn't know as you were ever 
 going to let me in. Were you asleep at this time of 
 day?" asked the visitor, looking sharply around. 
 
 " No ma'am, but busy in another room. Won't you 
 sit down, and throw off your cloak? " 
 
 "Well, I can't stay long. I've enough to do at 
 home ; but the fact is, child, I took pity on you, though 
 you don't deserve it, and come over to give you some 
 wholesome advice and oversight." 
 
 "You are very kind, ma'am," replied Molly de- 
 murely, while the ghost of a smile flitted across her 
 lips. 
 
 " Kind ! Well, I think it is kind to come out such 
 a law-boned day as this, especially for a busy woman 
 like me ; but then I look upon you the same as I do 
 on Mercy, and when you're married to Reuben you 
 will be the same, you know." 
 
 " I told Reuben last night that I should never marry 
 him/' said Molly gently, but very firmly. 
 
 The matron tossed her head, sniffed contemptu- 
 ously, and untied the strings of her green silk hood, 
 of the shape called pumpkin, and possibly imitated 
 from that national vegetable.
 
 112 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 " I've heard of young folks falling out before now,' J 
 said she, " and I've heard of their falling in again." 
 
 "But, as Reuben and I have not quarrelled, we 
 cannot make it up," replied Molly. " I have always 
 thought it was a mistake for me to have promised to 
 marry him, and while I was alone yesterday, before he 
 and Mercy came over, I made up my mind to break 
 it off. I am not at all angry, and there is no chance 
 of my thinking differently." 
 
 " Marie, sainte viergc Marie ! " murmured a voice 
 from the bedroom, plainly audible to Mary, but in 
 Mrs. Hetherford's ears confused with a sudden screech 
 from Tabitha, upon whose tail her mistress had trod- 
 den, as she lay asleep before the fire. 
 
 " Mercy on us ! Why don't you turn that nasty 
 cat out of doors? and how the wind whistles round 
 this house ! " exclaimed Mrs. Hetherford, turning from 
 the fire to look about the room with half-formed sus- 
 picion of she knew not what. The mutterings from 
 the bedroom continued, but less distinctly ; and Mary, 
 with a light laugh, drew her spinning-wheel a little 
 way from the door, and began to whirl it busily, say- 
 ing the while, 
 
 " The wind makes a good deal of noise, to be sure, 
 but I drown it with the sound of my spinning-wheel. 
 Mother left me such a lot of rolls to yarn off, that I 
 have not much time to get frightened. You'll excuse 
 my keeping at work, I hope." 
 
 " Oh ! you're very excusable," said Mrs. Hetherford 
 in an offended tone, and drawing her cloak about her. 
 "I'm a good deal in i hurry myself, and couldn't
 
 MRS. HETHERFORD PITIES MARY. 113 
 
 well leave to come over here ; but, as I said, I took 
 pity on you, more for your own folly than any thing 
 else, and I run over to ask you once more to come 
 and stay at my house till your mother gets back. It 
 isn't suitable anyway for a girl like you to be all alone 
 in the house, specially o' nights ; and Mercy got mad 
 when she and Reuben were here last night, and 
 wouldn't come if I was to send her; and Reuben, 
 he's took it to heart, what you said ; and the only way 
 to make things straight is for you to give up your will 
 this once, and come along." 
 
 "I thank you very much, Mrs. Hetherford, very 
 much indeed, but I cannot come," replied Molly, 
 more coldly and briefly than she was aware of speak- 
 ing ; for her whole mind was absorbed in listening to 
 the low murmurs so distinct to her own ear, and her 
 physical powers were strained to the utmost in keep- 
 ing up the incessant whirl of the wheel, which for the 
 moment drowned all other sound. No wonder, there- 
 fore, if her reply struck short-tempered Mrs. Hether- 
 ford's ears as churlish and ungrateful. She rose at 
 once, and, tying the pumpkin hood tightly under her 
 chin, said, in a voice tremulous with anger, 
 
 "Well, that's short and sweet, and to the point, 
 Mistress Mary Wilder ; and the next time I leave m> 
 woik and come sneaking over here to coax an un- 
 grateful minx to visit me, I guess you'll know it. I 
 should think, at any rate, you might treat a woman old 
 enough to be your mother with some little pretence of 
 respect ; but I suppose that isn't Quaker fashion. I 
 don't kow much about that kind of cattle, but J heai
 
 114 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 the courts at home are shipping them all out of the 
 country. I hope there won't any more come over 
 here." 
 
 '' Didn't you know that Reuben has promised my 
 mother that he will join them if I will? " asked Molly 
 maliciously ; and then, perceiving that the hood and 
 her own anger had effectually closed the good wo- 
 maii's ears to any indefinite sounds, and that she was 
 actually leaving the house, she abandoned the spin- 
 ning-wheel, and, following her to the door, laid a 
 hand upon her arm, saying gently, 
 
 "Don't leave me in anger, Mrs. Hetherford, and 
 forgive me if I spoke improperly to you. You have 
 been very good to me all these years, and I do not 
 want you to be offended now. Don't you know how 
 many mince-turnovers, and cocked hats of ginger- 
 bread, you have made for me?" 
 
 " Oh ! your mother can make 'em a sight better. 
 Reuben told me so once." 
 
 " Yes, and never had another crumb of pie nor cake 
 all that week," laughed Molly. " That was years ago, 
 but I remember it perfectly. Come, auntie Hether- 
 ford, give me a kiss for old times' sake, and don't go 
 away in anger." 
 
 "There, there! O Molly! I always said you'd be 
 like sunshine in our house, and you'd be the making 
 of Reuben ; and now you say you won't. There, you 
 needn't try to coax me round, for I won't be ccaxed. 
 If you want me for a friend you've got to give in, and 
 come over to my house. Come now, be a good child, 
 and say you will, and let Reuben drive the sled ovei
 
 MRS. HETHERFORD PITIES MARY. 1 15 
 
 for you before night. Say you will, now, that's a 
 pretty o^e." 
 
 " I am so sorry, so sorry to displease you, dear kind 
 tnend ; but I cannot, I must not. It is my duty to 
 stay here, and I can do nothing else." 
 
 The pain of her kind heart in thus breaking off, as 
 she knew she did, the ties of a life-time in familiar 
 companionship and neighborly kindness, if not in real 
 love, showed itself plainly in her face and in her 
 voice ; but the angry mother only felt the slight to her 
 son, and the matron resented the young girl's resist- 
 ance of her entreaties and effort : so with no reply 
 save an indignant toss of the head, Mrs. Hetherford 
 plucked her cloak from Molly's clinging fingers, and 
 plunged out into the snow. At a little distance waited 
 the sled on which she had come, with Reuben stand- 
 ing beside the horse's head. He looked eagerly 
 toward the door as it opened, but, perceiving at a 
 glance that his mother had failed in effecting a recon- 
 ciliation, turned suddenly away, with no response to 
 Molly's forced smile and salutation. 
 
 "And there go," said she aloud, as she closed and 
 bolted the door, "almost the only friends I ever 
 claimed outside this house, and now they are enemies. 
 Had it not been for you, Francois, I could hardly 
 have said Mrs. Hetherford nay, though I would never 
 have married her son. Truly, Valerie may be a little 
 grateful to me for my care of her lover."
 
 Il6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 
 
 'THHE sleepless nights, the anxious days, passed on, 
 
 JL stealing the color from Molly Wilder's cheek, 
 the roundness from her form, the elasticity from her 
 step, until the sixth morning arrived, and Amariah 
 presented himself in the kitchen, fully equipped for a 
 journey, and ready for any last words from his young 
 mistress; but as he looked steadily in her face, his 
 own shadowed with concern, and in his kindly, homely 
 voice, and half paternal way, he exclaimed, 
 
 "Why, Molly, child, how you have fell away, and 
 how pale you look ! You don't eat enough, I'll bet, 
 though I've brought in two chickens, and as much as 
 two dozen eggs, besides all you had in the house. I'm 
 main sorry you fell out with Reuben, and so staid 
 here all alone. It ain't no use to ask you to go over 
 there for to-night? " 
 
 " Not a bit of use, Amariah. So you are going to 
 start directly?" 
 
 "Yes, right away. I'll get over to Falmouth before 
 night, and the stage will be along in the morning ; so 
 yoa can look for us to-morrow before dark. I've 
 engaged Reuben's Hez to sleep in the barn to-iu^ht, 
 BO if you get scared you've only to blow the horn,
 
 THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 117 
 
 same as you would for me ; and he'll fetch in some 
 fresh water in the morning. You've got wood 
 enough ? " 
 
 'Enough for a week, I should think," said Molly 
 smiling merrily. 
 
 "And there's nothing more that I can do for you 
 before I go?" 
 
 " No. Here is a little note for my father, and I 
 want you to give it to him when he is alone." 
 
 "I understand; and I'll do it all right. Well, I 
 guess I'd better be going. Good-by." 
 
 " Good-by, Amariah." And closing the door, Molly 
 watched until the comfortable box-sleigh, well filled 
 with blankets and rugs, drove away ; and then, still like 
 the mother-bird flying back to her wounded nestling, 
 'she hastened into the bedroom, and stood for a mo- 
 ment looking anxiously down at her patient. 
 
 " Yes, he is a great deal better," said she half aloud, 
 and Francois, looking affectionately up at her, mur- 
 mured in reply, 
 
 " Yes, better, much of better." 
 
 "But are you enough better to bear moving?" 
 asked Molly anxiously. " My father and mother are 
 coming home to-morrow, and you must not be here 
 unless you will trust them as well as me." 
 
 Francois shook his head, saying eagerly, " No, no J 
 I can to trust no one but Marie." 
 
 "Then I must hide you. Will it hurt you very 
 much to go through the cold house, and up into a 
 cold garret? I am afraid it will." 
 
 " Tell again, my Marie : I not to understand."
 
 Il8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 So Molly, with patient iteration and gesture, ex- 
 plained her plan, and Francois at length understood. 
 In fact, even in five days these two had invented a 
 language quite their own, although compounded of 
 both French and English, besides that unwritten lan- 
 guage previously mentioned, and used during some 
 portions of their lives by most persons, at least those 
 of sensitive organization. But as our two linguists did 
 not reduce their invention to written character, or 
 indeed seek to adapt it to popular comprehension, it 
 is impossible to transcribe it precisely ; and in relating 
 that Francois or Molly said thus and so, it is understood 
 that the language is not precisely their own, but rather 
 its interpretation. 
 
 Thus, then, after their own fashion, the two arranged 
 their plans, and chatted merrily and happily until the 
 twilight fell, and Molly prepared a little supper for her 
 charge, watched him with maternal satisfaction as he 
 took it, then, making every thing tidy about him for 
 the night, sat down beside the bed, and began to sing 
 softly one of the old hymns her father still retained 
 from his early training in the Church. 
 
 Francois lay and looked at her for a while, and 
 then said, 
 
 " I am glad you sing nothing gay, and I am glad 
 your voice is so deep and rich. It is not in the least 
 like a bird-song." 
 
 "And why are you glad of that?" asked Molly in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Because I could not bear that any woman should 
 sing to me in a high, clear voice, trilling and soaring
 
 THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 119 
 
 like a lark, so sweet, so penetrating, so maddening.'' 
 He had run off into French in the last words, and 
 Molly drew away the hand he had seized in his. 
 
 " I suppose Valerie sang like that, and you could 
 not bear that I should try to imitate her," said she 
 impetuously, and so rapidly that Fra^ois did not 
 understand a word, except the name. 
 
 "Valerie!" repeated he almost sternly, "what do 
 you know of Valerie ? " 
 
 "Nothing. You have spoken the name in your 
 delirium, that is all. Pardon my freedom in repeating 
 it," said Molly coldly ; and then she rose and went into 
 the other room, and never knew when Tabitha rubbed 
 against her feet, and purred her sympathy, for she was 
 staring through the uncurtained window with eyes that 
 saw nothing for the bitter tears that blinded them. 
 
 Suddenly out of the darkness shaped itself a face, 
 the mean repulsive face of Reuben Hetherford looking 
 steadily in upon her. A sharp terror seized upon 
 Molly's heart ; not for herself in any case, but for that 
 helpless stranger whose life and liberty she had prom- 
 ised to defend to the uttermost. Could Reuben from 
 that angle see past her into the bedroom ? Had he 
 heard voices ? Did he suspect something, or was it 
 only herself for whom he was looking? 
 
 Not daring to answer these questions by an appeal 
 to himself, and yielding to the terror and repulsion of 
 the moment, more than to reason, Molly sharply drew 
 the curtain across the window, making sure that every 
 crevice was covered, and then flying to the door satis- 
 fied herself that it was securely bolted. As she did so.
 
 120 A NAMELESS NOBLEMtfT. 
 
 a low rap upon the panel startled he/, and Reuben 
 Hetherford's voice called, 
 
 " Molly, Molly Wilder ! It's Reuben ! " 
 
 But at the same moment another voico ui the oppo- 
 site direction called also, 
 
 " Marie / Chere Marie ! Venez-ici de gra<e ! " 
 
 Running light and swift as a cat across the inte r vcn- 
 ing room Mary stood beside her patient's bed, and 
 grasping his outstretched hand whispered, 
 
 " Be quiet, be quiet, Francois, for heaven's sake 1 
 Some one is outside 1 " 
 
 Then back again to the door to say coldly and for 
 biddingly, 
 
 " Is that you, Reuben? What do you want? " 
 
 But no one replied ; and this sudden abandonment 
 of his purpose, in a man so obstinate as Hetherford, 
 alarmed Molly more than any persistence could have 
 done ; for it seemed as if, his suspicions having been 
 in some way confirmed, he had retreated to take action 
 upon them. 
 
 " I will not delay an hour after daylight," said Molly 
 aloud as she returned to the bedroom ; and then sit- 
 ting beside Francois, her hand again in his, she told 
 him of Reuben's visit, and of all the causes for her 
 terror of him. 
 
 An hour later the farmhouse was quiet and peaceful ; 
 he innocent child sleeping rosily upon her hard and 
 careless bed beside the fire, with Tabitha purring at her 
 side ; and the worn and wounded man of the world, of 
 camps and battle-fields and courtly life, tossing rest- 
 lessly upon his too luxurious bed, and dreaming now
 
 THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 121 
 
 of Valerie hiding among the roses of the Provencal 
 gaiden, and now of Mary bending over him with calm 
 pitiful eyes, and hand of gentle ministry. 
 
 Morning broke, and Tabitha and Molly shook off 
 their healthy slumbers just as Francois fell into his 
 first sound sleep. Creeping on tiptoe to look at him, 
 Molly covered him more warmly, closed the door, re- 
 newed the fire, and hung the tea-kettle over the merry 
 blaze. Then she put the high fender in front of it, 
 looked around the kitchen murmuring, " I am so giad 
 Amariah is safely out of the way ! " and, wrapping a 
 warm shawl about her shoulders, tied the ends in a 
 great knot behind after the picturesque gypsy fash- 
 ion. Then she passed into the cold and cheerless 
 front entry and up-stairs, followed by Tabitha, who 
 ruffled her fur in expostulation at the change of tem- 
 perature, but evidently felt it a duty to attend her mis- 
 tress. From the upper landing ascended a narrow 
 enclosed staircase ; and mounting this, Molly found her- 
 self in the garret, a great unfinished loft, dark except 
 for a little square window at either end, and gloomy 
 and quiet and funereal as one might expect of a place 
 evidently used as the final resting-place of such ob- 
 jects as had fulfilled their uses below, and were now 
 consigned to this limbo as an intermediate step to 
 oblivion. 
 
 " A little scary up here, as Mrs. Hetherford says, 
 isn't it, Tabby?" said Molly standing at the head of 
 the stairs, and looking about her; while Tabby, divin- 
 ing the presence of mice, began eagerly to prowl about 
 the eaves, and sniff in the dark corners. Her mistress,
 
 122 A NAMELESS NCBLEMAN. 
 
 meantime, softly humming one of the solemn melodies 
 Frangois had approved, began to remove a confused 
 mass of lumber heaped behind the chimney, which, 
 large and square and cumbrous, occupied great part 
 of the middle of the place. Beyond it a rude parti- 
 tion of quilts and curtains divided off a little nook 
 intended for Amariah's lodging, until Mrs. Wilder 
 decided to banish him to the barn ; and this screer 
 still hanging made one wall of the hiding-place Moll) 
 had already in her mind contrived for the refuge of 
 her prisoner. The chimney itself formed another side, 
 the eaves of the house a third ; and across the fourth, 
 which was nearest the stairs, Molly re-arranged the 
 old spinning-wheel, the boxes, the discarded tin fire- 
 screens, and re-hung the ghostly garments from nails 
 driven into the rafters in such manner that they 
 seemed to keep watch and ward, like disembodied 
 sentinels, over the approach to the hidden nest the 
 young girl was so cunningly devising for her wounded 
 nursling. The weakest side was that of the quilt and 
 shawl partition, which Mrs. Wilder's restless spirit 
 might any day lead her to remove, or at any rate to 
 pull aside. Molly stood for some moments, her finger 
 on her lip, looking at this screen, and meditating how 
 to make it either more substantial or more inaccessi- 
 ble. Then a merry smile crossed her lips ; and going 
 the truckle-bedstead in the corner, still left as Ama- 
 riah had last used it, she dragged the great feather-bed 
 off upon the boards, ripped it up with the scissors hang- 
 ing at her side, and emptied the contents upon the 
 floor in front of the screen, where they made a flufly
 
 THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER, 12$ 
 
 and unquiet heap not to be approached, especially by 
 feminine skirts, without danger of suffocation to the 
 intruder, and waste to the feathers. 
 
 "There, Tabby !" exclaimed Molly as she carefully 
 turned the tick inside out, and then rolled it togethei 
 in a downy and dusty parcel, " mother said she should 
 have to empty that bed, and clean the feathers : so 
 we've been smart, and done it for her, the first part, 
 anyway; and she won't meddle with them before 
 spring, I know." 
 
 Then, still smiling at her own exploit, Molly took a 
 final survey of her arrangements so far, and went down 
 stairs ; where she found that the kettle had boiled over, 
 and nearly extinguished the fire, and Francois had 
 awakened, and was feeling rather abused at remaining 
 so long unnoticed. A few bright words, a few deftly- 
 rendered services, made him quite comfortable and re- 
 stored his good humor, however ; and as Molly turned 
 away, saying with a sunny smile, " Now you shall have 
 your breakfast," he caught her dress, and detained 
 her to say, 
 
 " You will to pardon my bad humor. The fault, it 
 is yours, because that you to spoil me have : you are 
 too much good to me, so unworthy." 
 
 " You were not ill-humored, only a little tired," said 
 Molly gently; "and it is the greatest pleasure I ever 
 knew to take care of you." 
 
 She blushed brightly as she spoke, and her calm 
 eyes fell before the gaze Francois fixed upon them. 
 He released her dress without reply ; and, while she 
 hastened away to provide his morning meal, the young
 
 124 * NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 man lay very quiet, his brow slightly knitted, his face 
 troubled and thoughtful. 
 
 Breakfast over and removed, Molly cheerily said, 
 
 " And now, Francois, you must be very patient and 
 good, while I go and finish preparing your hiding- 
 place. I have to make it comfortable now, and then 
 we will see how we can get up there." 
 
 " Yes, you make a priest's chamber as they did in 
 the old time, for Huguenot to-day, for Catholic to- 
 morrow," said Francois smiling. " Well, go then, 
 dear child : I will be content." 
 
 So Molly again mounted to the dark and cheerless 
 garret ; and of the small space now so safely concealed 
 from any but the most rigorous search, she soon con- 
 trived to make as cosey and comfortable a little nook as 
 ever sheltered Huguenot minister or Catholic priest. 
 The great mass of masonry composing the chimney, 
 once thoroughly heated by the kitchen-fire, retained 
 its warmth through the night ; and Molly arranged the 
 bed close, beside it. Some skins of foxes and smaller 
 game, which her father had shot and cured, made a 
 soft and delightful carpet ; a chair and a little table 
 were found among the lumber, and a candlestick and 
 store of candles laid ready. Finally she brought a 
 basin and jug, some of the fine towels her mother had 
 made her spin, and had hired woven for the possible 
 trousseau provided for thrifty maidens of that day, 
 and the little looking-glass from her own room. 
 
 " There, that will do, Tabby ; and now we will go 
 and bring him up-stairs," said she, looking admiringly 
 around when the mirror was hung, and all complete.
 
 THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 12$ 
 
 Tabby arched her back, enlarged the circumference of 
 her tail, and purring approvingly followed her mistress 
 down-stairs. They found Francois out of bed, looking 
 very pale and exhausted, but partially dressed, and 
 ready for departure. 
 
 " How brave you are, and how strong, to get up all 
 alone ! " exclaimed Molly admiringly ; and then she 
 brought a great soft shawl, and muffled him so far as he 
 would suffer it, and some of her own shoes, quite large 
 enough for his slender and patrician feet, and offered 
 her shoulder to the uninjured arm of the invalid, who 
 laid it caressingly about her neck. 
 
 "You are like Juno ; no, it is Diana that you are," 
 said he hi French : " so fearless, so strong, so chaste, 
 so unconscious of the Acteons of the world." 
 
 " Lean on me as heavily as you like, and be very 
 careful with the stairs," replied Molly in English ; and 
 neither cared a whit for comprehending the spoken 
 words, since the tone translated itself. 
 
 The priest's chamber was reached, the candle light- 
 ed, and the invalid carefully laid upon his bed, when 
 a thundering knock upon the front door resounded 
 through the house. 
 
 " It is danger ! " exclaimed Francois : " they know 
 of me, and they will perhaps do harm for you. Let 
 me to them, and I will swear you know not that I 
 here am." 
 
 " No, no, Francois ! all will be well without that," 
 replied Molly hurriedly. " Only keep very, very quiet, 
 and, even if we come up here, make no noise unless 
 you are actually discovered."
 
 126 A NAMELESS &OBLEMAJV. 
 
 Then blowing out the candle, she went out, paused 
 to arrange the pile of lumber a little more carefully, 
 took a final view of every thing, hurried down stairs, 
 and locked the door at the foot ; then, flying to the 
 bedroom so lately vacated, stripped the clothes from 
 the bed, and finally, running back to the front door, 
 she unbolted and opened it. Upon the step stood 
 Reuben Hetherford, and a man whom Molly remem- 
 bered to have seen at the Corners, but whose name 
 she did not know.
 
 THE SEARCH-WARRANT. I2/ 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE SEARCH-WARRANT. 
 
 /^OOD-MORNING, Mistress Mary Wilder," said 
 V_T the stranger, with grave politeness ; for Reuben, 
 like Judas Iscariot and other celebrated traitors, hung 
 back in shame at the treason he yet was determined 
 to effect. 
 
 " Good- morning, sir," replied the girl briefly: "may 
 I ask your name and errand, an' it please you ? " 
 
 " My name is John Dibley, and my errand to search 
 for an escaped prisoner, suspected to be concealed in 
 this house." 
 
 "And why should you so suspect, Master Dibley? " 
 asked Mary, with a steady glance at Reuben, who, 
 stung into speech by its contempt, hurriedly ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " There is no use in denying it, Molly. I saw last 
 night, when I looked in at the kitchen window, I 
 saw you stoop over some one in the bed, and I saw a 
 hand holding your dress as you turned away, and I 
 heard a voice not yours." 
 
 " People who look in at windows and listen at key- 
 holes are very apt to get their stories wrong," replied 
 Molly calmly. " If you mistook my cat Tabitha for a 
 Frenchman, and her white paw for a hand, and have
 
 128 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 brought Master Dibley over from the Corners this cold 
 morning to arrest the poor puss, I can do no less than 
 show her to him. Master Dibley, if you will come in, 
 I will lead you through every room in this house, and 
 deliver up all the Frenchmen you may find. Master 
 Reuben Hetherford shall keep watch on the outside, 
 lest some of them escape ; or, if he prefers, he may 
 stare in at the kitchen window. Inside the house I 
 have my father's orders not to admit him." 
 
 Mr. Dibley looked foolish, but stepped inside the 
 door, which Molly immediately shut and bolted. 
 
 "I I kind of brought Reuben along as a spe- 
 cial constable a h " stammered he. 
 
 Mary stopped, with the door of the parlor in her 
 hand, and turned round upon him, while the morning 
 light, streaming in from behind, seemed to magnify 
 and irradiate her form, and touch the dusky lights of 
 her coronal of hair into gleams of red gold, until she 
 looked like a crowned queen scorning the invader of 
 her realm. 
 
 "Do you know my father, Master Dibley?" asked 
 she quietly. 
 
 " Yes, mistress : he is an honest and honorable man." 
 
 " And do you think he or his household would har- 
 bor those who were enemies of the colony, or of the 
 king?" 
 
 " No, mistress ; and yet " 
 
 "And do you know that I, one weak girl, am all 
 alone in this house, keeping it safely until my parents 
 shall return? and do you suppose it likely that I should 
 admit and hide a Frenchman, or any other man, in 
 their absence?"
 
 THE SEARCH-WARRANT. 12<) 
 
 "That is what I said to Reuben Helherford. 1 
 said, says I " 
 
 " But why did you come, then? And why, above all 
 things, should you bring that man to help you, as 
 special constable or any thing else? Don't you see, 
 sir, that all he wanted was the chance to offer me this 
 insult and slight ? We two have quarrelled, after being 
 troth-plight lovers ; and that, as you may see for your- 
 self, is reason enough for all this moil. I warrant, 
 now, he asked you to make a special constable of 
 him?" 
 
 "Well, yes, Mistress Mary, he did," confessed poor 
 Dibley, glancing longingly at the front door; "and 
 now that you tell me all this, I see that the youth has 
 been too hasty, and I, perhaps, too ready to believe 
 him. So I take your word that there is no one in the 
 house but yourself, and " 
 
 " Nay, nay, sir, you shall not do so ! Since you 
 and your special constable are here, and, it may be, a 
 whole posse more in ambush round the house, you 
 must e'en go through with it, and look at least into 
 every room. I must tell my father, when he returns, 
 that his daughter was cleared from the suspicion Reu- 
 ben Hetherford has brought upon her." 
 
 "Nay, mistress, be not so angry. I coirprehend 
 the matter now, and I am fully satisfied " 
 
 "So am not I, then, Master Dibley; and I do in- 
 sist upon your following me. This is the parlor ; and 
 as you see, except in the drawers of that secretary, 
 there is no place of concealment. Here is the 
 kitchen ; and there upon the hearth sits Tabitha, my
 
 130 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 companion and bed-fellow since my parents' depart- 
 ure. No doubt, Reuben Hetherford may have seen 
 me bending over and petting her, and even seen her 
 paw holding my dress; for we have been guilty of 
 such follies in our loneliness, have we not, poor 
 Tabitha? Here, then, is the bedroom; and I crave 
 your pardon not to have arranged it more fittingly 
 since I arose. I was not expecting company so soon. 
 Here is the door of the cellar : and, I pray you, step a 
 little carefully on these damp and rotten boards ; my 
 father has talked so long of mending them ! Lo, you 
 now ! You have fallen, and I am afraid hurt your 
 leg ! Be careful, I beg ; for the potato-hole is close 
 beside you, and you may easily slip in." 
 
 " I have ! " cried the unhappy constable, stumbling 
 headlong into the little pit toward which Molly had 
 artfully led him : " if you held your candle so that I 
 could see, it were better than to give tardy warning of 
 danger." 
 
 " Our cellar is but a dark and cramped place for a 
 visitor," replied Molly meekly : " had I known that you 
 were coming, I would have lighted it with more than 
 this one poor candle. Here is father's cider-barrel, 
 and here the pork, and here " 
 
 But Mr. Dibley was already limping up the broken 
 staircase, muttering his satisfaction ; and, with a faint 
 smile upon her lips, Molly followed him, and in spite 
 of his resistance insisted upon conducting him up- 
 stairs, where she threw open the bedroom she usually 
 occupied, the unfinished one opposite to it, and then 
 laid her hand upon the garret door, saying,
 
 THE SEARCH-WARRANT. 131 
 
 " Now, here is the garret door locked ! But wait 
 here, an' it please you, and I will look for the key. 
 Surely mother would not have carried it to New Bed- 
 ford with her, would she ? " 
 
 " It is useless, it is quite useless, to look for it, 
 Mary," exclaimed the constable, trying to prevent her 
 from going down stairs : " I am quite and altogether 
 satisfied, and have been so from the first." 
 
 " But so am not I, Master Dibley," persisted Molly, 
 " I have been suspected of harboring enemies of my 
 country ; and I want you to be able to say that you 
 have thoroughly searched this house, and found only 
 Tabitha besides myself. I will go and look for the 
 key ; and, if I cannot find it, I will draw the staple, and 
 so take off the lock." 
 
 As she spoke, she slipped past the reluctant con- 
 stable, ran down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where 
 she looked carefully around her, thought she distin- 
 guished Hetherford's figure outside the window, and 
 for his edification began rummaging the drawers, 
 boxes, shelves, and every sort of receptacle in the 
 room. Suddenly she heard Dibley's heavy feet creep- 
 ing down the stairs ; and, snatching the key from the 
 box where she was looking at that moment, she rushed 
 out, and confronted him with it. 
 
 " At last, sir ! " exclaimed she : " I have searched 
 through all mother's boxes, and here it is. Now come 
 up again, please, and we will look." 
 
 " If your garret is as grewsome an abode as your 
 cellar, I do not believe even a Frenchman would hide 
 there," said Dibley, smiling grimly ; for Molly's bright
 
 132 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 face and cheery tone made him ashamed of churl- 
 ishness. 
 
 " It is not much better," said she, unlocking and 
 throwing open the door : " I will go first to show you 
 where the loose boards are ; for, if you fell through, it 
 might prove a worse affair than the potato-pit. This 
 way, please." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear child ; but I can see every 
 thing from here," replied Dibley with paternal kind- 
 ness, and wholesome fear of the loose boards. " That 
 is a lot of household stuff out of use, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes. Shall I pull it down for you to see that 
 there is nothing behind it?" 
 
 " No, no, maiden : I am satisfied, I tell you. I 
 could see if there were a mouse hidden in the place. 
 I can make my affidavit to have searched the house 
 from garret to cellar, more especially the cellar, and to 
 have found nought therein alive but one fearless 
 maid and one tortoise-shell cat." 
 
 "Yes, remember the cat above all, since she may 
 be the Frenchman Reuben lletherford tspied through 
 the window." 
 
 Chatting and laughing merrily, the two descended 
 the stairs, Molly locking the door behind her, <cid so 
 down to the front door. Upon the step waited Reuben 
 Hetherford as if he had never moved. Molly re- 
 garded him with cold and wrathful eyes ; and in spite 
 of his effort to slink behind florid Mr. Dibley, turning 
 to bid an apologetic good-by, she had a last word for 
 him : 
 
 "My father will know how to thank you for this
 
 THE SEARCH-WARRANT. 133 
 
 good turn done to his house and daughter, Master 
 Hetherford ; and be sure he shall know all your kind- 
 ness so soon as he is at home." 
 
 Reuben made no reply, and the two departed. As 
 the sound of their sleigh-bells died away, Molly locked 
 the door, and, going into the kitchen, threw herself 
 upon the settle in as near to a fainting condition as 
 she had ever known. She did not cry, she did not 
 moan, or laugh, or speak, only lay upon the wooden 
 bench, white and still and mute as a snow image, all 
 the life and warmth gone out of her, and only the 
 sense of a terrible fatigue remaining. Tabitha, who 
 had restlessly promenaded the kitchen for some time, 
 looked up at her with eyes narrow in the morning 
 sunshine for a few moments, then leaped softly upon the 
 end of the bench, and walked carefully up the length 
 of the recumbent figure until, reaching the head, she 
 curled herself upon it for a nap. The contact roused 
 Molly, who, smiling feebly, rose to her feet, saying, 
 
 "I must not stay idling here, while he is making 
 himself sick with anxiety. Come, Tabitha, let us go 
 up."
 
 134 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AND VALERIE? 
 
 A BOUT sunset the jingle of bells and the sound 
 JL\. of voices announced the arrival of the travellers ; 
 and Molly, running to the door to receive them, was 
 startled at seeing her mother, much muffled and covered 
 with rugs, lying in the sleigh, with her husband holding 
 her head upon his lap, and Amariah sitting on a firkin 
 to drive, as the seat had been removed. 
 
 "What has happened? What is the matter with 
 mother?" demanded she, running out into the snow, 
 and peeping over the edge of the box-sleigh. 
 
 " Mother has a bad cold and a touch of rheuma- 
 tism, that is all," repiied the father cheerily ; while 
 poor Deborah herself only moaned inarticulately. 
 Amariah, however, was ready with his explanation : 
 
 " She felt it her duty to ride on the outside of the 
 stage-coach, and exhort some ribald fellows, who only 
 laughed at her ; and so got cold, and has a rheumatic 
 fever to pay for it." 
 
 "Peace, Amariah!" exclaimed his master sternly. 
 " When your opinion is wanted it will be asked ; and 
 meantime help me lift your mistress, and carry her into 
 the house." 
 
 But this operation was a severe one ; for the least
 
 AND VALERIE? 135 
 
 movement was so painful to the unfortunate woman, 
 that she constantly begged her husband to abandon 
 the attempt, and he as often complied, until at last 
 Molly suggested lifting the blanket upon which she 
 lay, and so bringing her in. This plan succeeded a 
 little better ; and in a few moments poor Deborah was 
 laid in her own bed, and Molly was carefully and 
 affectionately attending her. But, even in the midst of 
 her sincere grief and care for her mother's sufferings, 
 the young girl found time to note and smile a little at 
 the odd fortune which in two successive days had 
 given her two such diverse patients to attend in the 
 same bed, and each so unconscious of the other's prox- 
 imity. Diverse in every respect, as she soon found ; 
 for in proportion as Francois was gentle, patient, 
 grateful, and cautious of letting his needs be known to 
 his nurse, Mrs. Wilder was fractious, complaining, and 
 requiring, so that when Molly at last came out to put 
 the finishing touches to the meal her father had nearly 
 prepared by himself, she looked so pale and tired that 
 he said tenderly, 
 
 " You are very weary, my child. You must have 
 some one to help you, now that mother is laid by." 
 
 " Oh, no ! thank you, father dear. I am very strong, 
 you know, and after the first it will not be so hard." 
 
 "You do not look so very strong now, my lass," 
 persisted the father, softly smoothing the nut-brown 
 hair with his great palm. " It was too much for you 
 to be so long alone, and so worried. Amariah told me 
 of your falling-out with Reuben ; and I heard over at 
 the Corners of his malice in accusing you of harboring
 
 136 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 a Frenchman, and bringing Dibley here to search my 
 house. Of a truth I shall have a word to say to 
 friend Reuben." 
 
 " I was not frightened of John Dibley, father, and 
 there is no harm done," said Molly with a gallant 
 attempt at carelessness, as she met her father's stead- 
 fast eyes. 
 
 " No, you were not frightened, I well believe, my 
 stout-hearted wench," replied he proudly. " But you 
 were angered and shamed to have your discretion so 
 called in question. They did not know my maid 
 when they fancied she would harbor strange men 
 unknown to her father, or willingly deceive him in any 
 fashion." 
 
 As he spoke, Humphrey Wilder drew his daughter 
 toward him, and tenderly kissed her brow. The caress 
 was unwonted, and put the last touch to the tumult of 
 emotion in the young girl's heart. Sinking upon her 
 knees at her father's side, she burst into a passion of 
 tears. It was the first time since she was a little child 
 that he had seen her so moved ; and, pressing her head 
 to his breast, he soothed and chid her as if she had 
 still been one. 
 
 "Why, there, then, my moppet, what ails thee? 
 Tel 1 father all thy little troubles. Fie, fie ! thee shall 
 not sob so, and spoil thy pretty eyes. What is it, 
 child?" 
 
 "Nothing, father dear, nothing but but I am so 
 tired, and I have been so put about with all these 
 things," sobbed Molly, clinging for a moment close to 
 that great loving heart, never cold or silent to her, and
 
 AND VALERIE? 137 
 
 then shrinking away with the remorseful consciousness 
 that she was keeping a secret from the father who so 
 entirely trusted her, and allowing him to accept a tacil 
 denial of the charg* so truly brought against her by 
 Hetherford. 
 
 Remorse and shame dried the tears that tenderness 
 lad caused to flow ; and, wiping her eyes, Molly sprang 
 to her feet, and hastily moved out of reach of the 
 caressing hand whose touch seemed liked a brand of 
 infamy to her excited mood. 
 
 " I have been growing nervous in this last week, I 
 am afraid, father," said she smiling wanly ; " but I shall 
 try to do better now that you are at home." 
 
 "You are tired, child," replied her father tenderly, 
 " and now get thee to bed and rest. I will do all that 
 thy mother requires until morning. Sleep and rest, 
 and waken my own bright-eyed little Molly." 
 
 Glad to escape the loving scrutiny of those calm 
 eyes, Molly paid a short visit to her mother's bedside, 
 saw that she was quite comfortable, and apparently 
 almost asleep, and then retreated up-stairs to her own 
 room. Waiting there some moments to make sure 
 that her father would not summon her for some last 
 message or charge, she blew out her candle, and, 
 lighted only by the moonlight shining in through the 
 window above the front door, unlocked the garret- 
 door, and softly crept up the stairs. She found Fran- 
 9ois awaiting her with eager curiosity ; for the sounds 
 of the arrival, and of Mrs. Wilder's removal from the 
 sleigh to the bedroom, had reached his retreat, but all 
 inthout explanation. Moreover he had now become
 
 138 A NAMELESS bOBLEMAN. 
 
 so accustomed to the constant companionship of his 
 gentle nurse, and so interested in the conversations 
 they constantly kept up, that he had been very lonely 
 for some hours, and was disposed to be a little peev- 
 ish in consequence. 
 
 Molly perceived the mood, and with ready tact 
 soothed it away by a few soft and half-caressing words 
 and touches, before she began the story of the arrival 
 and her mother's illness ; which she narrated in the 
 detailed and minute style so comfortable to an invalid. 
 
 But the quick ear of the listener noticed a change 
 '.n the voice, a weariness in the manner, and a hidden 
 are in the look of the girl's face ; and, when she had 
 4nished all her little story, he took her hand in his, 
 *nd said, 
 
 " And what else, sweet one ? " 
 
 "What else, Francois? What do you mean? " 
 
 "Tell me what lies behind all this? The arriert 
 pensec we call it ; and I know not how to say it in Eng- 
 lish, nor yet in our new language." 
 
 " Well, I will tell you, Francois ! " exclaimed the girl 
 vehemently. " I cannot endure the idea of cheating 
 my father another moment. He has heard of the 
 search, and he said they did not know me if they 
 ihought I would deceive him ; and he looked into my 
 face, and my silence told him a lie if my tongue did 
 not. I never lied before since I was a little child ; 
 and I feel so guilty, so mean, so base ! Francois, I 
 cannot do it ! " 
 
 She twisted her hands together, and clinched her 
 teeth to keep down the rising emotion. Not twice
 
 AND VALERIE? 139 
 
 n one day should such weakness master that calm and 
 Assured mind ; not twice in one day should man look 
 upon Mary Wilder's tears. A brief silence ensued, 
 and then Fran?ois coldly asked, 
 
 " And what do you intend to do, mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " To tell my father that you are here, and trust to 
 his good heart and discretion. That is, I should do 
 so if I only thought of my own wishes ; but I prom- 
 ised you that I would not tell any one." 
 
 "You did promise so, and I believed you." 
 
 " Believe me still, then ; for I have net betrayed you 
 by word, or Iook 3 or silence." 
 
 "You are only preparing to do so." 
 
 " Not without your leave, Francois. I cannot take 
 back or break my promise if you hold me to it ; but 
 you will not be so cruel, will you? " 
 
 " Oh ! rest content, mademoiselle : I hold you to 
 nothing that your so sensitive conscience holds wrong. 
 Betray me if you will, and as soon as you will. I dare 
 say the jails are comfortable enough in your little 
 town of Boston ; and I may be exchanged, or the war 
 may cease, before I am very old. Go and call the 
 respectable Monsieur Wilder as fast as possible, I pray 
 you." 
 
 And, awaiting this event, Francois threw himself 
 over upon his other side, with small care for his 
 broken arm, and lay with his back to Molly, silent 
 and forbidding, as if counting her already an enemy. 
 
 She sat very still, and looked at him ; the feeble 
 light of the candle showing the wan whiteness of her 
 face, the brightness of her fixed eyes, and the hands
 
 140 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 so tightly clasped upon her knee. Three long minutes 
 ticked themselves away upon the watch hanging at the 
 head of the bed ; and Francois, unable to endure the 
 utter silence, threw himself back into his former posi- 
 tion, looked keenly at the statuesque figure beside him, 
 and mockingly asked, 
 
 "What ! not gone yet, mademoiselle?" 
 "You are wrong and cruel to treat me so, Fran- 
 ois ! " exclaimed Molly, in a voice sharpened by pain 
 and the sense of wrong : " I have not showed myself 
 so weak or so treacherous as you seem to wish to think 
 me." 
 
 " It is needless to remind me of my obligations to 
 you, mademoiselle. I am crushed beneath their 
 weight already, and only wish there were a possible 
 way of repaying them." 
 
 "And you think I am taunting you with your obli- 
 gations, as you call them? " exclaimed Molly in a tone 
 perilously near contempt : " how little you know me, 
 and I thought we were so well acquainted ! A traitor, 
 a liar, and mean enough to recall my own services to 
 one willing to forget them ! Can I do any thing for 
 you before going down stairs? " 
 " To call your father ? " 
 
 Molly turned away with no reply but a look of indig- 
 nant reproach ; and Francois caught her dress. 
 " Stay, Marie ! You can do something for me.'.' 
 "What is it? Do not hold my dress, please." 
 " You can forgive me. I have been cruel and un- 
 just ; I have tortured you who are so kind and patient 
 with me ; I have been unmanly, childish, I know not
 
 AND VALERIE? 141 
 
 what. But it is you who have spoiled me ; no one, 
 not my mother, not any one, has been to me as you 
 have been ; and I repay you thus ! Say that you for- 
 give me, Marie." 
 
 "Yes, I forgive you," said Molly wearily. 
 
 " Not that way, not so coldly and sadly ! Give the 
 bad child the child's kiss of forgiveness here upon his 
 brow ; ah, do ! sweet Marie ! " 
 
 " No, Francois ! you are not a child, and I cannot 
 treat you as one, not in that way, at any rate." 
 
 " Then treat me as a man, and kiss me because I 
 love you, Marie, darling Marie, my Marie ! " 
 
 He seized her hand, and tried to draw her toward 
 him. She did not struggle or resist, only standing in 
 all her calm stateliness of form, looking down upon 
 him, she said in quiet scorn, 
 
 "And Valerie?"
 
 142 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 DR. SCHWARZ. 
 
 THE next morning, when Molly at length suc- 
 ceeded in finding time and opportunity to carry 
 up her patient's breakfast without observation, she 
 found him grave, courteous, and rather formal. 
 
 She had expected eager questioning as to her pos- 
 session and knowledge of the name she had used at 
 their last interview, and whose sound had so aston- 
 ished him then that he had let her go without another 
 word ; but, instead of this questioning, she found her- 
 self confronted by a certain polished reserve, that air 
 of high breeding at once the most intangible and the 
 most effective of weapons, in the hands of those who 
 have the right to employ it. 
 
 But Molly, in her way, was as proud as our friend 
 the baron in his, and, replying to his polite speeches 
 as politely, she performed her wonted services with 
 her usual faithfulness and dainty nicety ; and, in set- 
 ting aside some portion of the breakfast to serve as 
 lunch, remarked that she might not be able to come 
 up again before the noontide dinner, as she should be 
 busy with her mother in all the time possible to spare 
 from the house. 
 
 "I am truly grieved to be so much trouble," replied
 
 DR. SCffWAKZ. 143 
 
 Francois courteously, " but I trust it will not be foi 
 very long. I think I shall attempt my escape to-night 
 or the next night. My arm requires attention which I 
 cannot give it, and it is as well to risk imprisonment 
 as the loss of a limb, and perhaps death." 
 
 If he thought to startle her out of her calm by 
 either of these announcements, he did not succeed ; 
 perhaps her pale face grew a little paler, her quiet 
 voice a little more calm, but she only said, 
 
 " I am indeed grieved that your arm is worse. A 
 doctor is coming this morning to see my mother, and 
 if you choose to trust him " 
 
 " A thousand thanks ! WiH you permit me to re- 
 mind you of my wish for absolute secrecy? " 
 
 " I only mentioned the matter. I did not intend to 
 do any thing without your permission." 
 
 " Then if you will be so very good as to do nothing 
 at all ! " 
 
 "Certainly. I must leave you now. Good-morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Au revoir, mademoiselle." 
 
 And as Molly closed the door at the foot of the 
 stairs, and turned the key, her prisoner said to him- 
 self,- 
 
 " Valerie de Rochenbois would never make so stately 
 a dame du chdteau as this country girl. Francois, It 
 baron de-rien-de-tout, is not the idiotic pride of birth 
 washed out of you by all these waters? " 
 
 Entering the kitchen with her little tray of dishes, 
 Molly was met by her father, hastily coming in at the 
 porch door, but apparently too much absorbed in his
 
 144 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 own errand to notice that of his daughter, whom he 
 eagerly accosted. 
 
 " Here is the doctor, Molly, to see thy mother. It 
 is not the man I sent for to New Bedford, for he was 
 away, as Friend Haslow writes to me ; but another, 
 very good also. He is a Dutchman, and his name is 
 Schwarz, Peter Haslow says. Here he is." 
 
 The stamping of snowy feet upon the step an- 
 nounced that Dr. Schwarz had followed his host from 
 the barn, where their first interview had taken place, 
 and where he had lingered to watch Amariah's atten- 
 tions to his horse, whose wet coat and heaving sides 
 told that he had travelled long and vigorously. Molly 
 regarded him with some curiosity ; for she could have 
 counted upon the fingers of one hand all the strangers 
 who ever had come beneath that roof since her re- 
 membrance, and this Dutch doctor seemed not the 
 least peculiar among them. A tall, stout figure, muf- 
 fled in many coats, capes, and comforters, a mass of 
 sandy hair floating upon the shoulders, and mingling 
 with a shaggy beard of the same color, a monstrous 
 pair of green glasses : these were her first impressions 
 of the new doctor, who, in answer to Wilder's greeting 
 and presentation to his daughter, replied hi fluent but 
 strongly accented English, 
 
 " I kiss your hands, dear mees. Is the lady your 
 mamma no better yet? " 
 
 "No better, I am afraid," returned Molly, glancing 
 at the speaker in some surprise, and wondering if the 
 German-English was always so like the French-Eng- 
 lish, to which she had grown accustomed Will you 
 come in and see her now? "
 
 DR. SCHWARZ. 145 
 
 "Directly, dear mees. May I take off the coats 
 first, here at the fire ? " 
 
 The coats removed, the doctor warmed his thin, 
 dark hands before the blaze, casting curious glances 
 about him, from behind the green goggles, as Molly 
 lather felt than saw. 
 
 " Now, then, we are ready, if you please," said Dr 
 Schwarz suddenly; and Molly led the way into th 
 bedroom, where the invalid was eagerly expecting him. 
 Standing silently beside her mother, the girl listened 
 intelligently to the clear questioning, the rapid con- 
 clusions, the assured diagnosis, of the new physician, 
 and settled in her own mind that here was a very 
 different, a much more advanced, practitioner than 
 Dr. Crake at the Corners, or even Dr. Pilsbury, the 
 magnate of New Bedford, for whom her father had 
 sent before arriving at home. 
 
 " It is rheumatic fever that attacks your mother, 
 mees, and danger of the lungs also," said the doctor, 
 rising from his seat beside the bed, and leading the 
 way into the kitchen, where Humphrey Wilder impa- 
 tiently awaited his verdict. 
 
 "Danger of inflammation of the lungs, do you 
 mean?" asked he, catching the last words. 
 
 "Yes, my friend. She should be watched for th 
 next two days or so, very carefully." 
 
 " By a doctor, do you mean, sir? " asked Molly. 
 
 "Precisely, mees. It may save a life to her, to 
 receive certain remedies in season." 
 
 " And cannot you remain with us for the space of 
 two days?" asked Wilder anxiously. " I will pay you 
 any thing in reason for your time and pains."
 
 146 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Dr. Schwarz hesitated, coughed violently, and 
 walked to the window and back. Molly, watching 
 him attentively, asked herself what motive this utter 
 stranger could have for playing a part among simple 
 country-folk, not rich enough to attract cupidity, and 
 with no secrets in their lives worth any man's investi- 
 gation ; and yet some instinct of her nature warned 
 her that this man had entered her father's house with 
 a purpose other than the avowed one, and that, in 
 spite of his apparent reluctance, he had every inten- 
 tion of remaining. The suspicion was confirmed when 
 he turned around, and, looking at her, said to her 
 father, 
 
 " Well, yes, Master vVilder, as they call you, I will 
 see the good wife past her danger. I am not in prac- 
 tice anywhere, so am not tied; but in passing from 
 New Amsterdam, where I live, to Boston, I staid at 
 New Bedford, and introduced myself to your Dr. 
 Pilsbury there. I cannot go back to New Bedford 
 and here again : so, if you wish it much, I will remain 
 two days and nights." 
 
 "We shall esteem it a great favor, truly," said 
 Wilder calmly. " Molly, you can prepare a bed for 
 Dr. Schwarz, can you not? Perhaps in the parlor." 
 
 "He shall have my room up-stairs, father," said 
 Molly quietly ; " but you had better make a fire in the 
 parlor, where he may sit meanwhile." 
 
 " Not so, not so, my friends," interposed the doc- 
 tor hurriedly : " I shall go to walk directly. I have a 
 passion for the country and the open air. I shall see 
 as much of it as possible while my patient needs me
 
 DR. SCHWARZ. 147 
 
 not No parlor, no fire, no seclusion, for me, if you 
 please. In the house I shall find myself most happy 
 in the sickroom, or here in this admirable kitchen." 
 
 " Sit here, then, in my armchair, friend, and tell 
 me how you of New Amsterdam like to become Eng- 
 lishmen," said Wilder heartily; and, as the two men 
 settled to masculine talk, Molly went quietly arounc 1 
 the room preparing dinner, attending upon her mother, 
 and listening to every word, and watching every mo 
 tion, of the mysterious stranger. 
 
 " He may be Dutch, but he understands French," 
 said she to herself, as she caught a " Pardieu! " un- 
 consciously let slip in the heat of discussion. 
 
 The midday meal was served and eaten ; and Dr. 
 Schwarz, after a brief visit to this patient, declared his 
 intention of taking a long walk, and proceeded to 
 muffle himself accordingly. Molly watched him with 
 the same quiet attention she had bestowed upon all 
 his movements, and was a little startled when he sud- 
 denly turned upon her, as her father preceded him 
 out of the door, to ask, 
 
 " Well, and what do you think of the doctor from 
 New Amsterdam? " 
 
 " I have not yet made up my mind, sir," replied the 
 girl, in her grave, unmoved manner. 
 
 "Take advice, then, my charming mees, take ad- 
 vice upon him," muttered the doctor as he passed 
 her ; but Molly breathlessly detained him, while she 
 demanded, 
 
 "What do you mean, sir? Advice of whom? Of 
 my mother?"
 
 148 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Not so much of her, perhaps, as of those who 
 have seen the world, who know how a Dutch doctor 
 should appear; who how should I know? A young 
 lady has always a friend of whom she takes advice." 
 
 He went out as he spoke, leaving Molly in a be- 
 wilderment of doubt, hope, fear, hesitation. 
 
 "At any rate, I must take Francois his dinner, 1 ' 
 said she to herself; and, first seeing that her mother 
 was comfortably settled for a possible nap, she has- 
 tened to arrange the dainty bits reserved from the 
 family repast upon her little tray, covered with a clean 
 napkin, and carried them to her prisoner. 
 
 He met her with a conciliatory smile, and, taking 
 the tray from her hands, laid it down, saying, 
 
 " It is not to eat that I am in haste, but to see you, 
 my Marie stern and sweet." 
 
 " And I have news for you ; but I cannot stay many 
 minutes, for my father will be coming in, and my 
 mother may need me," replied Molly, replying with 
 her eyes to the tender smile and the loving words. 
 " Do you know Dr. Schwarz? " 
 
 " Le docteur Schwarz ? No ; and I hope he knows 
 not of me." 
 
 " I think he does, or at least suspects." And then 
 Molly, in her clear, brief style, related all the events 
 of the morning, not forgetting her impressions, the 
 French exclamation, and the mysterious counsel given 
 by the doctor as he left the house. 
 
 Francois listened to all attentively, and, when the 
 story was finished, remained for many moments silent, 
 his head between his hands in his favorite attitude of 
 reflection : at last he said
 
 DR. SCHWARZ. 149 
 
 "You are always right, dear Marie. This man is a 
 spy ; one of two : first, a friendly spy, who looks for 
 me to do me well ; next, an enemy spy, who would 
 prison me for twenty dollars. Either it is one whom 
 I know would look for me if he were himself free, or 
 it is one sent by this Ayterfor " 
 
 " Hetherford, Francois." 
 
 " Eh, Men / it is all one ; but it may be of him, and 
 it may be well, and what next, my Marie?" 
 
 " That is what I want to ask you. I have arranged 
 that he shall sleep in my room, and the door of that 
 is close to the foot of these stairs : now, cannot we 
 contrive that you should see him as he comes up the 
 stairs?" 
 
 "Surely, surely, and yet say to me one time 
 again, how does he look?" 
 
 And as Molly patiently recapitulated the description 
 of the stranger's odd physique and costume, Francois, 
 listening attentively, shook his head. 
 
 " Still it may be a disguise," said he in French, and 
 then, seizing Molly's hand, continued to her, 
 
 " Now, see, dear little one. You give me the key : 
 I go down, and sit on steps at the door inside. This 
 man come up, and I hear his talk with will it be 
 you?" 
 
 " My father, I suppose," said Molly, blushing a 
 little. 
 
 "True, true, your father. Well, the risk is the 
 more, but no matter. I shall look, and I shall listen : 
 if it is my man, it is well ; if .not, no harm. You 
 understand all this, cherie ) "
 
 ISO A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Yes, Francois ; and if it is a friend he will help 
 you to leave us," said Molly heavily. 
 
 "If it is he I hope, he will do me good to my 
 arm," suggested Francois; and Molly's face grew 
 bright and hopeful, as he had fancied it would.
 
 LOYALISM AND LOYOLAISM. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 LOYALISM AND LOYOLAISM. 
 
 IN the barn Dr. Schwarz found, as he had expected, 
 Amariah, diligently doing nothing ; and, slipping a 
 bit of silver into his hand, said cordially, 
 
 " Come now, my fine fellow, and show me the walk 
 I ought to take." 
 
 "Thank'y, sir. Why had you ought to take a 
 walk?" 
 
 "That's another thing; and you have not studied 
 physic, have you ? " 
 
 "Well, Idunno." 
 
 " It is British and it is rustic to ask questions, and 
 to evade replies; but nevertheless I wish to walk, 
 and, if you are the good fellow I think, you will 
 show. me the way." 
 
 " Oh, well ! I don't mind a walk, though you 
 couldn't well miss of the way so long as you saw this 
 house, or Hetherford's over there." 
 
 And Amariah, who had lounged to the door of 
 the barn, nodded toward the snow-covered roof and 
 stone chimney mentioned as the only ones in sight. 
 The doctor regarded them attentively through his green 
 goggles. 
 
 " And that is Hetherford's, is it ? " asked he. " And
 
 152 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 who is Hetherford himself? Let us walk that way as 
 well as any other." 
 
 " All right, master," replied Amariah placidly ; and 
 as the pair strolled along the snowy track the old 
 fellow, who dearly loved the sound of his own voice, 
 gave his attentive listener a brief sketch of Reuben 
 Hetherford's history, including his futile courtship of 
 Molly, and his revengeful attempt to annoy and 
 mortify her by bringing a constable to search the 
 house while she remained alone in it. 
 
 " Frenchmen ! " interrupted the doctor at this point. 
 " But are there, then, Frenchmen about here ? " 
 
 " Sho ! You must have seen 'em, or leastways heard 
 tell of 'em in New Bedford ! " exclaimed Amariah 
 sceptically. " Why, it was town's talk there." 
 
 "Well, but New Bedford is not here. What has 
 been seen of them here?" asked the doctor; and 
 Amariah, nothing loath, told of the footsteps beside the 
 well, of the disturbance of the hay, and of the knife 
 or dagger in Reuben Hetherford's possession. 
 
 "Now, but that is curious if true," said Dr. 
 Schwarz. "Is not that the man going to his* barn 
 now?" 
 
 "Yes, that's him. Want to see him? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! it is as well to hear your story as to hear 
 it from him; and yet yes, let us turn in and speak 
 to him a little. Say that I am the Dutch doctor of 
 New Amsterdam who cures your mistress. I cannot 
 speak so good as you, friend Amariah." 
 
 " That's a fact," replied Amariah complacently. " I 
 never see a Dutchman that could, and I've seen a*
 
 LOYALISM AND LOYOLAISM. 153 
 
 many as half a dozen in my day. You talk as good 
 as any of 'em." 
 
 "Yes, we all talk the same, I know," replied Dr. 
 Schwarz, with a little inward chuckle ; and then they 
 entered the barn, and Amariah repeated his lesson very 
 faithfully. Reuben received the stranger civilly, having 
 already heard of his arrival, and was easily led into 
 talk of the late shipwreck, the escape of some of the 
 prisoners, and his own attempt at their recapture. Dr. 
 Schwarz listened admiringly, contriving by artful ques- 
 tions or remarks to draw out all of information or ru- 
 mor that Hetherford had to give. 
 
 "These French! these French!" exclaimed he at 
 length, as the well began to give token of going dry 
 under such diligent pumping. "They have forever 
 been the enemies of the Dutch, and more than ever 
 now that our stadt-holder has married your princess, 
 and Holland and England are one, and France the 
 enemy of both. Oh, I know them, I know them well, 
 the murderous villains ! Why, they are not content to 
 kill a man outright, but needs must poison their swords 
 and daggers, so that even a scratch, even to grasp the 
 handle in your warm palm, is death by torture. Oh ! I 
 have seen it, I have known it in my own country." 
 
 " Sho ! You don't say ! " 
 
 "There, now ! Listen to that ! " exclaimed Reuben 
 and Amariah in one breath, as they pallidly stared into 
 each other's eyes. 
 
 " I told you I found that knife in Wilder's bam," 
 faltered Reuben; but Amariah's fright was not suffi- 
 cient to allow this statement to pass unquestioned.
 
 154 * NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "No, you didn't find it, nuther!" exclaimed he. 
 " I found it, and you took it away from me ; and now, 
 if you've got pizened along of it, I dunno as I'm to 
 blame." 
 
 "Well, I don't want it any longer. You can have 
 it back as soon as you like," said Reuben miserably. 
 " And I hope no harm's done yet. Could you tell if 
 you saw it, doctor, whether it was poisoned, or not? " 
 
 "That depends, my friend. There are poisons and 
 poisons, you know. I have studied these matters very 
 much, but I cannot always be sure. Show me, and 
 I will tell you." 
 
 " All right. I've got it here in my drawer." And 
 Reuben, going to a rude standing desk where he was 
 in the habit of keeping account of his hay and other 
 crops, unlocked it, and produced the dagger we first 
 have seen in the gardens of Montarnaud. As the 
 eyes of Dr. Schwarz fell upon it, he made a slight 
 movement of impatience, and extended his hand; 
 then checking himself, said carelessly, 
 
 " Yes, it is French. I see that at first." 
 
 " Well, look at it close, and tell, if you can, whether 
 it is poi^ned," insisted Reuben, pressing it into his 
 hand. The doctor scrutinized it solemnly lor some 
 time, blade, hilt, and especially the wavy lines ara- 
 besqued upon its surface. 
 
 " Ha ! Do you see those words, my friend ? " 
 exclaimed he suddenly, thrusting the dagger under 
 Hetherford's eyes, and pointing excitedly to the half- 
 obliterated Latin motto beneath the crest of the 
 Montarnauds.
 
 LOYALISM AND LOYOLA ISM. 155 
 
 " I thought that was writing, but I couldn't quite 
 make it out," said Reuben, trying to look wise, and 
 only looking scared. 
 
 " Probably you do not read Arabic," suggested Dr 
 Schwarz considerately. 
 
 " Well, no, I don't know as I do." 
 
 " Phen of course you would not read here, as I 
 do, ' I carry the message of the cobra.' That means 
 that the blade is so imbued with the venom of the 
 deadliest serpent of India, that its merest scratch is 
 certain death. And you, unhappy man, have had it 
 lying in that desk among loose papers, and I know 
 not what ! How can you be sure that you are not 
 already wounded? " 
 
 " Wounded ! " shrieked Reuben, minutely survey- 
 ing his red and callous hands ; " I don't see any thing, 
 but here, you look, doctor ! " 
 
 "First, let me put this evil thing out of harm's 
 way," replied Dr. Schwarz, carefully folding the dag- 
 ger in a handkerchief. " You do not want any thing 
 more to do with it, I presume ? " 
 
 " Ludamassy, no ! Here, what's this on my left 
 thumb? ain't it a wownd?" 
 
 " Why yes, it does look like one. Does it burn 
 and sting with sharp thrills of pain? " 
 
 "I don't know. I never thought about it till 
 now." 
 
 " I dare say you will feel it to-night ; and if you do 
 you must wrap it in a poultice of rye-meal, with an 
 cnion outside it, and keep it very warm until morning. 
 I don't believe it is poison ; but, if it should be, that
 
 156 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 will be the best thing to do : nothing will do much 
 good, I am afraid." 
 
 "Oh, Jehoakim! A pretty night's rest I'll get, 
 watching for my death, may be," groaned poor Reuben, 
 as pale as death, and already grasping his scratched 
 thumb with despairing energy. 
 
 " But I hope it is not of the dagger that you are 
 hurt," suggested the doctor, already upon his way to 
 the door, having achieved his errand. " I shall hear 
 in the morning from our good Amariah that you are 
 quite well, I hope ; and I will carry away the dagger, 
 and destroy it in a way that none but medicos under- 
 stand. It is not safe to leave it in the world." 
 
 " I don't want to see the hateful thing again, nor I 
 don't suppose Amariah does, either: do you, 'Riah?'' 
 asked Reuben, gazing at his thumb. 
 
 " Well, I'd like to try it onto a fox, or a woodchuck, 
 or some of them vermin. I'd like to see how it 
 works," replied Amariah meditatively ; but the doctor 
 indignantly turned upon him in the interests of hu- 
 manity, 
 
 " What ! you desire to torture some poor innocent 
 creature, and see him die in agony for your own curi- 
 osity ! Now, fie upon you, Amariah ! I had thought 
 better things of you ! No : I shall destroy the dagger 
 so soon as I come at the means, and it shall not do 
 more harm to nobody in this world." 
 
 Silenced, if not convinced, Amariah followed his 
 guest, who, already satisfied with the walk he had so 
 clamorously demanded, was striding down the snowy 
 road toward the Wilder farm.
 
 THE DOCTOR PROBES A LITTLE. 157 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE DOCTOR PROBES A LITTLE. 
 
 A MARIAH ! It is time you were milking ! " called 
 jL\ Humphrey Wilder's placid voice from the barn 
 as the two men approached ; and Mr. Coffin, noncha- 
 lantly obeying the summons, left the doctor to proceed 
 to the house alone. Coming in from the dull and 
 chilly twilight of out-of-doors, the kitchen with its 
 clean-swept hearth, brilliant fire, and odor of cleanli- 
 ness, looked a little paradise of content ; and Tabitha 
 seated squarely in the middle of the rug before the 
 fire, her shoulders up to her ears, her eyes half closed, 
 her paws tremulously sheathing and unsheathing then* 
 claws in the fulness of her delight, seemed the ruling 
 genius of the place. 
 
 Dr. Schwarz stood looking about him with a smile 
 for some moments, and then throwing aside his wraps, 
 approached the fire, saying, 
 
 "A poor shipwrecked fellow might be very well 
 contented here, to be sure." 
 
 The door toward the front of the house hastily 
 opened, and Molly Wilder entered softly and swiftly ; 
 but at sight of the motionless figure beside the fire 
 hesitated slightly, and colored a little. The keen ob- 
 server behind the green goggles smiled also.
 
 1 58 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " I have startled you ! You thought to find the 
 room empty as you left it. You were careful not to 
 make a noise to let the mother hear you," said he 
 quietly. 
 
 Molly regarded him uneasily, and made no reply. 
 The doctor smiled again, and followed her to the other 
 end of the room. 
 
 " Have you taken my advice ? " asked he softly. 
 
 "What advice, sir?" 
 
 " I advised you to seek help in forming an opinion 
 of me, me, myself: I advised you to describe all that 
 I say and do, me, the queer Dutch Dr. Schwarz, late 
 of Leyden, Holland, and see what one thinks of me." 
 
 "I I do not understand," stammered Molly. 
 
 " Fie, now, my dear young lady ! that is not worthy 
 of such honest eyes, and so brave a mouth ! See, I 
 will tell you a secret if you will keep it for me." 
 
 " I do not know that I ought to keep it." 
 
 " Yes. It harms no one ; it concerns no one but 
 me, and another, and perhaps you a little." 
 
 " I will try to keep it." 
 
 " I trust you. See this dagger ! " 
 
 He suddenly drew it from his pocket, and laid it 
 upon the dresser against which she leaned. Mary 
 flushed scarlet with surprise, but said nothing, nor 
 offered to touch it. 
 
 " You have seen that before ? " asked Schwarz. 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " But it was your servant who found it in this barn." 
 
 " I know that he did, but I never saw it." 
 
 "Truly 1 Well, this knife belongs to a dear friend
 
 THE DOCTOR PROBES A LITTLE. 159 
 
 of mine who is lost. I am here to search for him ; 
 since, by some stories I heard at New Bedford, I judge 
 that he is somewhere here concealed. Now, I ask no- 
 body to betray a secret they have promised to keep. 
 As I trust you now, so he may have trusted you ; and 
 you would be burned alive sooner than betray a trust. 
 See how I read your face ! But still if that man, my 
 friend, knew that I am here, knew that I am ready to 
 carry him away to a place of safety, he would be very 
 glad. If one could find him, and place this dagger in 
 his hands, and say, ' The friend who once before brought 
 you this, now sends it to you, and is waiting, as he 
 waited then, to help you,' if one could say that to 
 this mail, I think it would be doing him good service." 
 
 Without a word, but with a long and steady look 
 into the face so near her own, Molly took up the 
 dagger, wrapped it again in the doctor's handkerchief, 
 and placed it in her pocket. 
 
 "Molly! Molly! Where's that man? I feel a 
 deal worse," cried the invalid from the bedroom. 
 
 " Here, madam, and coming so soon as the hands 
 are duly warmed," replied Schwarz, returning to the 
 fire ; but Mary detained him. 
 
 "Are you really a doctor? " demanded she sternly : 
 " you are not surely daring to trifle with my mother's 
 life!" 
 
 " No, no, good child, a thousand times no," replied 
 the stranger warmly : " I am not indeed a physician by 
 diploma; but I have studied much in helping my 
 friend to study, for he is truly an accomplished physi- 
 cian, and I am utterly competent to crre the excellent 
 mother. Now, madam, I come."
 
 160 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAJ* 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE JOY OF MEETING. 
 
 SEATED beside his patient's bed, and gravely lis- 
 tening to all her maundering complaints, Dr. 
 Schwarz nevertheless saw and heard with a smile of 
 good-humored malice Molly's quiet exit from the 
 kitchen, and made himself so agreeable to her mother 
 that the good lady never remembered to peevishly 
 call, "Molly, Molly, I say! What is thee about?" 
 as she had done nearly every five minutes of her wak- 
 ing hours since she had been ill. 
 
 By and by the door opened as quietly as it had 
 closed, and Molly's light step was heard moving about 
 the kitchen, in attendance to her ordinary duties. 
 Dr. Schwarz wound up his rambling description of 
 the manners of Dutch mothers very briefly, and, stroll- 
 ing into the outer room, placed himself in the young 
 girl's way with an air of expectation ; but she sur- 
 veyed him with calm and abstracted gaze, and when 
 he ventured softly to say, " Well, what of the dagger, 
 my child ? " she sweetly and innocently replied, 
 
 " Oh ! I have just put it safely away. Did you want 
 it again so soon ? " 
 
 " No, no, but " 
 
 " Yes, mother ! Excuse me, sir, but my mother 
 calls"
 
 THE JOY OF MEETING. l6l 
 
 Nor could the doctor find another moment for pri- 
 vate speech with this artless and simple young crea- 
 ture from that moment until about nine o'clock, when 
 Humphrey Wilder, after fully enjoying a prodigious 
 gape, said to his guest, 
 
 "When you would like to go up-stairs, doctor, I 
 will show you your bedroom." 
 
 " Now, if you please, directly," exclaimed the doc- 
 tor with much alacrity : " I will but say good-night to 
 my patient, and leave her in your hands until the 
 morning, unless some change occurs. The baths of 
 hot spirit may be continued " 
 
 "That reminds me, Molly," interposed her father, 
 " to ask how you could have disposed of more than 
 half that case-bottle of strong waters? I got your 
 little billet by Amariah, asking me to fetch some more, 
 and I did so, but " 
 
 " Hush, dear father ! Do not worry mother with 
 hearing of these domestic mishaps," murmured Molly, 
 laying her hand upon her father's lips, and coloring a 
 little angrily as she felt the keen eyes of Dr. Schwarz 
 steadfastly regarding her through the odious green 
 goggles. 
 
 " A mishap ! What ! did you spill it ? " persisted 
 Wilder, whose mind was cf that honest order which, 
 not entertaining many ideas at once, does full justice 
 to each as it comes forward. 
 
 " Why, after a fashion, yes, father," said Molly, with 
 a short laugh. " But no more on't now, I pr'ythee ; 
 for our guest is waiting, and I would look once more 
 to his lodging before he goes up-stairs."
 
 162 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "I doubt not that all is well prepared already, 
 maiden, but perhaps there is some final touch that 
 might not be given until the moment of my appearing 
 on the scene, so in God's name go and give it ; and 
 if, like a fortress, you have a signal, a watchword for 
 the night, let it be for this time, ' An old friend ! ' 
 Say that, as you make those last preparations up-stairs, 
 and all will go well." 
 
 During this somewhat mysterious speech Wilder 
 had obeyed a summons from his wife, who desired a 
 pillow raised a trifle, and then replaced exactly as it 
 was before, and now stood, candle in hand, patiently 
 waiting while Molly fled up the stairs swift as a young 
 deer, and the doctor went to pay his parting visit to 
 his patient. 
 
 "All is ready now, father," announced the girl, 
 re-entering the room, her cheeks lightly colored by 
 some strong emotion, but her eyes fearless and bright 
 as they met the doctor's shrewd gaze, while, with the 
 courtesy of that age, he raised her hand to his lips in 
 saying good-night. 
 
 " A brave girl, an heroic girl, fit to be the wife of a 
 noble, and the mother of heroes if the noble only 
 thought so," muttered the doctor, following his host 
 up-stairs, and on the landing pausing to look keenly 
 about him, and say aloud, 
 
 "You have quite a large house, Master Wilder; 
 many rooms not always in use, I perceive." 
 
 As the accents of his sonorous voice resounded 
 through the silent spaces about him, the door of the 
 garret stairway opened silently a very little way, and an
 
 THE JOY OF MEETING. 163 
 
 eager eye peeped out. Schwarz saw it, and said noth- 
 ing: Wilder did not see it, and, going forward into 
 the bedroom, complacently replied, 
 
 " Why, yes, it is a pretty good house, doctor. You 
 see, when we built, nigh twenty years ago, Molly was a 
 baby, and we hoped that God would send us more 
 children; so we framed the house to accommodate 
 them. But He did not see fit so to do ; and we have 
 never finished more than this, which is Molly's bed- 
 room. But when she marries our neighbor, Reuben 
 Hetherford, he is to come here to live ; and they will 
 finish off the other rooms, and inhabit them. That is, 
 always, if God so wills." 
 
 " But this Hetherford is a mean fellow, and a cow- 
 ard," objected the doctor. " It is he who brought the 
 constable to search thy house and insult thy daughter. 
 I heard of his boastings and threats in the matter, and 
 of the knife he had found, and all the silly story, 
 before I came to Falmouth." 
 
 "I know, friend, I know," replied Wilder with a 
 slow and puzzled look upon his honest face. " That 
 is a matter to inquire into, and verily I am prompted 
 by nature to be exceeding wrathful; but this mar- 
 riage is a matter long settled, and Deborah, my wife, 
 has set her mind upon it, and when her mind is set 
 she does not often give up her way ; and " 
 
 "But, friend, every man should be master of his 
 own house, and every father should guide his own 
 child; and surely you never will allow your wife to 
 sacrifice this fine girl to a wretched little spy, who 
 But we shall speak more of this to-morrow if you will
 
 1 64 ^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 it is too cold to keep you standing here ; so good-night, 
 my worthy host, good-night." 
 
 "Good-night, friend. It is but a cheerless room 
 surely ; and yet my little Molly sleeps here the winter 
 through." 
 
 " Then I should be ashamed to speak of the cold," 
 said the doctor, smiling grimly ; and candle in hand he 
 followed his host to the landing-place, saw him well 
 down the stairs, heard the door into the kitchen close, 
 and then without looking round he said aloud, 
 
 " So the mot d'ordre for the night is ' An old friend,' 
 and the countersign should be " 
 
 " Constant and true," replied a voice close behind 
 him, and the next moment the friends were locked in 
 each other's arms. 
 
 " Have a care, mon baron, or this stupid candle will 
 set thy curls on fire ! " exclaimed the abbe, whom we 
 will no longer thinly disguise as Dr. Schwarz ; and a 
 mutual laugh relieved the emotion which with two 
 women would have dissolved in tears. 
 
 " Have a care yourself, mon abbe, or they will hear 
 us ! '' whispered Francois. " Let us go into your room : 
 for, if the invalid should be worse, they might come to 
 seek the doctor, and you can hide me away ; but if 
 you were up-stairs in my priest's chamber " 
 
 "Then it was up-stairs that you were hidden all the 
 time," interrupted the abbe". " Come, my son, let us 
 get into the bed, and cover all but our noses ; then, 
 while they are slowly freezing, we will relate and listen 
 lo every thing. This frightful cold congeals my very- 
 ideas."
 
 THE JOY OF MEETING. 165 
 
 "And yet you are tolerably protected : even the top 
 of your head and your chin are covered with more 
 than their natural thatch," laughed Francois, plucking 
 at the tow-colored wig and beard. "I never cher- 
 ished very profound regard for thy nose before ; but, 
 truly, I am compelled to love it now, for it is the only 
 morsel of thy real face left uncovered." 
 
 " If it will make thee happier, thou shalt see the 
 whole," replied the abb, pulling off wig, beard, and 
 goggles, and displaying his own close-cut black hair, 
 well-shaven chin, and dark Provencal eyes. 
 
 " Ah, that is better ! " exclaimed his pupil, atten- 
 tively regarding him by the light of the flickering 
 candle. " Why, abbd, thou art a comely fellow, now 
 that I look at thee closely. I never noted it before." 
 
 " I can believe it," returned the abb in gentle sar- 
 casm. "Thou hast been so occupied in admiring 
 thyself, thou hast had no eyes for me until now." 
 
 " Would not one think we were two girls fresh from 
 our two convents, instead of men who have oftener 
 faced death than the looking-glass?" laughed the 
 baron; and then the two friends, without disrobing, 
 hid themselves from the freezing atmosphere, beneath 
 the mountain of home-spun blankets and woollen 
 comforters with which Molly had piled the bed. 
 
 "And now, friend, for thy story first," said Francois 
 affectionately. " And, to begin with, where didst thou 
 find thy disguise? " 
 
 " The wig and beard were bought for last carnival- 
 time in Rome, and the coats and mufflers from a 
 worthy trader in this fair land," replied the abb6 com-
 
 1 66 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 placently. " When we packed our mails to leave the 
 Holy City, I put up the wig and beard, thinking 
 another carnival might find us poorer than we then 
 were, and less able to buy the means of amusing our- 
 selves. I did not think they would serve in so merry 
 a frolic as we had the other night, with the ice-cold 
 waves on one hand, and these blood-thirsty, or rather 
 dollar-thirsty, provincials on the other. Well, to go 
 back to the time when we reached Ghent, and found 
 that the Dutch, instead of our dear allies, had become 
 our sworn enemies, and joined themselves with our 
 hereditary foes the English : you remember how you 
 said that, although you never would set foot in France 
 again, you would go to the other side of the world 
 and fight her battles ; and so we attached ourselves to 
 the poor ' Vainqutur] so terribly vanquished by the 
 winds and waves of Buzzard's Bay, as they call the 
 gulf where we wtre wrecked. You being ranked as 
 surgeon, and I as chaplain, we each were allowed our 
 luggage ; and I brought along the Roman chest without 
 unpacking it. When, out here, the captain quietly 
 told us that the ship was unmanageable, and, if we 
 escaped death among the rocks toward which we 
 drifted, we had the cheering prospect of a prison or a 
 platoon from the natives, who, like all colonists, were 
 more bitter in the quarrel of their mother-country than 
 she was herself, you will remember that we went 
 down to our stateroom to select such matters as would 
 serve us best if we arrived on shore alive. You took 
 your dagger, your silver spoon and fork, your dressing- 
 case, and some clean linen; I took all the money 
 remaining to us, or, rather, to you "
 
 THE JOY OF MEETING. l6j 
 
 "It is all the same thing, my dear abbe, go on," 
 
 " My breviary and this wig, for I rapidly reasoned 
 Ihus : We two are not to be drowned yet, I feel it : we 
 are then to be prisoners; if so, we are to escape; 
 after escape, nothing is more necessary than a good 
 disguise ; here it is, allons done ! and I put it in the 
 pocket of my breeches. You see, my baron? " 
 
 "I see. And then? " 
 
 "And then the' Vainqueur* vtzrti. to pieces among 
 the rocks, and some of us saw you swimming like a 
 merman toward a little cove, and hoped you reached 
 land safely; but just then our captors came off in 
 boats, and picked us who remained undrowned off 
 the wreck, agreeably mentioning, in some barbarous 
 imitation of French, that we were prisoners, and 
 would be shot if we attempted an escape. I am, as 
 you know, a priest, and not a soldier ; so I submitted 
 with such grace as I might, but was careful not to let 
 it be discovered that I spoke English, lest I should 
 become important enough to be looked after more 
 closely than the rest. Happily, no one betrayed me ; 
 and our captors evidently did not think a slender, 
 beardless fellow, in half a shirt and black breeches, 
 very much of a prize, and did not even search me. 
 We were taken to some log-cabins and mud-walls 
 called a fort, and waited there several days, while a 
 man rode to Boston and back for orders ; and while 
 they searched the country for you and two or three 
 other poor fellows who swam toward shore, and may 
 or may not be drowned or beaten to death upon those 
 accursed rocks.
 
 168 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "Finally, four days ago, they marched us out en routt 
 for Boston, their principal village or town, I believe ; 
 and on the road I succeeded in giving them the ?1 ip, 
 and hid in a barn, and behind hay-ricks, and in the 
 woods, until the search for me was over, and the con- 
 voy passed on. Before this I had bought a coat and 
 a muffler of a countryman, in whose house we stopped 
 to rest on the first day ; and now, after all was quiet, 
 I came boldly out into the road, having first, you 
 understand, assumed my disguise, and took my route 
 for this place." 
 
 " What ! Running back to the prison you had just 
 escaped?" 
 
 " Running back to the friend who would not have 
 deserted me, had the cases been reversed." 
 
 " It is true, it is equal. None the less, I thank you 
 heartily. Go on, if you please." 
 
 " Well, I came to a town wherein stood a tavern, 
 and to the tavern I boldly betook myself; and, being 
 questioned with the solemn impertinence characteriz- 
 ing these savages, I replied that I was a Dutchman of 
 New Amsterdam, named Schwarz; and, being de- 
 manded my profession, I said physician for want of a 
 better." 
 
 " ' Oh ! going to visit Humphrey Wilder's wife,' sug- 
 gested the landlord, who headed the inquisitorial tri- 
 bunal. I nodded solemnly, and waited to hear more, 
 for a whole chorus of women broke in; and, by 
 good use of my ears, I soon found that this goodman 
 Wilder and his wife had parsed through the place in 
 the morning, she very ill and he very scared, and that
 
 THE JOY OF MEETING. 169 
 
 he had mentioned sending to New Bedford, a place 
 some forty miles from here, as I understand, for a 
 physician ; and then they again demanded of me if I 
 were coming in his place. At a hazard I inquired, 
 
 " ' Did not Master Wilder mention the consultation 
 1 physicians to be held over his wife's case ? ' 
 
 " ' No ; but I dare say Dr. Pilsbury does in his letter,' 
 says my landlady, producing a letter from her pocket. 
 
 " ' Oh, there is a letter ! ' exclaimed I, holding out 
 my hand so confidently that she put it into it at once ; 
 and I as unhesitatingly pocketed it, saying, 'I will 
 go over to Wilder's directly, then, and carry the letter 
 myself; for, since my brother Pilsbury has written, he 
 will not come at once.' 
 
 " The argument was unanswerable to the slow bu- 
 colic mind, and although my landlady gasped a little 
 she did not object : and I at once proceeded to hire 
 a sleigh and horse, averring that I had left the stage- 
 coach a mile or so from the town, for the purpose of 
 visiting a friend ; but, as three mouths opened to re- 
 quire the name of this friend and a description of 
 his house, I stopped them by demanding in turn the 
 details of some hints I had heard thrown out in the 
 Wilder matter, and, above all, what they had to do 
 with the French prisoners of whom I had heard, and 
 upon whom I expended a good Hollandische oath or 
 two ; for, you know, hatred of the French is at this 
 moment the strongest bond of union betveen the 
 Dutch and English. 
 
 " Then I heard the whole story of this rascal Heth- 
 erford's suspicions and discoveries, and of his calling
 
 I/O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 upon the law to aid him; and then the constable 
 himself, who drank a grog there at the moment, told 
 his part of the story; and from the whole I easily 
 understood that you were actually hidden here, and 
 that this good girl with the calm, strong face was 
 concealing you. Then, for the first time, I resolved 
 to come to this house to see the sick woman. Before 
 that, I had no further intention than to secure a vehicle 
 and some pretence for driving round the country, in 
 hopes of coming upon you in some way. But all this 
 Hetherford and constable matter made it very easy for 
 a man trained in the Seminary to understand the whole 
 plot in an instant, especially when I gathered that 
 Mademoiselle Marie was all alone in the house i<y 
 several days, and also nights, after our shipwreck. 
 
 " So, making a long story short, I opened and read 
 good Dr. Pilsbury's letter of regrets that he could not 
 come, and at the bottom wrote, in an excellent imita- 
 tion of his crabbed script, a postscript recommending 
 Dr. Schwarz of New Amsterdam. I came, I saw, and 
 I conquered ; for I am here with you, my baron, and 
 the horse in the stable waits to carry us away when 
 and how you will." 
 
 " To carry us away ! " echoed the baron, in a tone 
 so unexpected that his companion turned to look at 
 him in the darkness, and said, in a half-offended 
 tone, 
 
 " One would say you were sorry to go, my baron 1 "
 
 AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. IJl 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. 
 
 AND now I will tell you my adventures," ex- 
 claimed Francois, not replying to the semi- 
 accusation of his friend; and, plunging with some 
 precipitation into the history already so well known to 
 us, he rapidly rehearsed it, dwelling very little upon 
 the part concerning Molly, and a good deal upon the 
 insolent intrusions, as he described them, of Reuben 
 Hetherford. 
 
 " But he is the betrothed husband of this young 
 woman," remarked the abbe" dryly, "and naturally 
 feels an interest in her connection with a handsome 
 young man whom she hides in her bed-chamber." 
 
 " Betrothed ! What nonsense you talk, my dear 
 Despard ! " exclaimed Francois a little imperiously. 
 " Mademoiselle Marie had already broken any such 
 ties before I had the honor of meeting her." 
 
 " Nevertheless her father told me to-night that she 
 was to marry him," persisted the abb. 
 
 " She will not, then," replied his friend so sullenly 
 that the abb thought it best to defer some remarks 
 not likely to be well received just then ; and only said 
 with a good-humored laugh, 
 
 "Well, we need not settle every thing to-night,
 
 172 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 since I have arranged to stay here another day and 
 night ; and in the course of to-morrow we shall see 
 how it is best to manage our departure. Meantime 
 let us sleep a little. Will you remain here for the rest 
 of the night?" 
 
 " Thanks, no : I have a charming little priest's 
 chamber above there, and will leave you undisturbed 
 in this." 
 
 " Good-night, then ; and do not forget to thank God 
 who has so favored us thus far," said the priest. 
 
 "I do not forget, man pere" replied his former 
 pupil a little coldly, and went his way. 
 
 The reverend Vincent de Paul Despard rolled him- 
 self comfortably in the bed-clothes, and, addressing 
 himself to sleep, murmured cynically, " I have loved 
 him fifteen years or more, and saved his life half a 
 dozen times ; and she has known him one week, and 
 already puts me to the wall. Well, mon petit baron, I 
 have seen you in love several times before this." 
 
 The next day passed in the quiet farmhouse much 
 after the usual manner, that is, to outward seeming ; 
 but for three persons beneath that roof this calm exte- 
 rior covered a whole world of emotion, peril, and 
 uncertainty. When Dr. Schwarz appeared at break- 
 fast it was with a more inscrutable face than ever ; 
 nor did he attempt any private conversation with 
 Molly, who could not yet know with certainty wheth- 
 er he was the friend for whose advent Francois had so 
 eagerly hoped. The somewhat brief and silent meaj 
 finished, and the doctor's first visit paid to his patient, 
 he accompanied Mr. Wilder to the barn ; and Molly
 
 AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. 173 
 
 sped up stairs with the breakfast-tray so difficult to 
 prepare without observation. 
 
 Francois received her gently, but somewhat sadly, 
 and, without waiting for questioning, said, 
 " It was he, the friend for whom I hoped." 
 "And is his name really Dr. Schwarz?" 
 "Names are of little consequence, dear child. 
 Neither he nor I have any in particular, to-day one, 
 to-morrow another. Fortune de guerre, my girl ; and 
 he hay come to carry me away." 
 
 " And you are glad to go, I suppose ? " 
 "Who would not suppose so, Marie? " 
 The reply was no answer ; and Molly felt it so, and 
 busied herself silently in her arrangement of the little 
 breakfast-table. Francois watched her for some mo- 
 ments, then suddenly seized her by the hand ; but, as 
 he opened his mouth to speak, a shrill sudden noise 
 resounded through the house, and Molly, starting, 
 cried, 
 
 " Tis mother's call. I left all the doors open, and 
 gave her a stick and a brass kettle to beat upon if she 
 needed me. I will be back anon. r> 
 
 " Send Dr. Schwarz up, meantime, if it please you, 
 sweetest," called Francois after her; and for once 
 Molly was not displeased to find the burly figure of 
 the doctor standing sentinel before the kitchen -fire. 
 
 "Will you go up-stairs for a few moments, sir?" 
 asked she in a demure whisper as she passed him. 
 
 " Does Monsieur le Baron send for me ? " inquired 
 Schwarz in the same tone, and with a smile of good- 
 humored malice at thus winning from the prudent
 
 C/4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 girl a confession of the secret she had so jealously 
 guarded up to this moment. 
 
 '"Those who seek, find,'" replied Molly passing 
 into her mother's room, and meeting as best she could 
 the invalid's querulous questioning and complaints. 
 
 Dr. Schwarz meanwhile had strolled out of the room 
 and up-stairs. Francois was on the watch for him ; 
 and, first of all, insisted upon taking him up to his 
 own rnuggery, there to admire the various devices and 
 thoughtful attention to his every need, managed by 
 Molly out of such slender resources and scanty space 
 AS she could command. 
 
 Then the two descended to the door at the foot of 
 the garret-stairs, and there held their conference in 
 such wise that in case of interruption, each could 
 escape in the direction of his own room without delay 
 or noise. 
 
 " First of all, let me see this arm of thine, mon 
 baron" said the abbe. " Yes, yes, it needs the lancet, 
 and some fresh bandaging; and fortunate is it that 
 those same pockets of mine held our case of surgical 
 instruments and a few drugs. Steady, now, my friend ; 
 there ! I would I could call upon the fair Molly for 
 some warm water, and a little help ; but we will make 
 it do with a drop of can de vie to take off the chill. 
 Now, there, all is comfortable, is it not? and you 
 can sit very well in the corner of this stair, and get 
 a little color back to your lips before we talk." 
 
 "Thanks, good friend. I did not use to be so 
 squeamish over there hi the Pays Bas" 
 
 "You have been pretty well knocked about of late,
 
 AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. 175 
 
 mon baron ; and ten days or so of close imprisonment, 
 in that coop above there, are not strengthening, al- 
 though possibly delightful. 
 
 " And now for our plans. I think that in the earliest 
 dawn it will be well for you to leave the house, and 
 secrete yourself in a little lonely cattle-shed, or it may 
 be barn, which I will presently show you from the win- 
 dow of my bed-chamber. Then, directly after break- 
 fast, I shall leave this place, and, arriving opposite the 
 cattle-shed, pause to attend to my harness. You will 
 jump into the bottom of the sleigh, cover yourself 
 with the fur robe, and an instant later when the 
 sleigh emerges from behind the building, I sit erect 
 and alone upon the bench as before." 
 
 " The barn will hide all this from the windows of 
 the house, you are sure ? " asked Francois medita- 
 tively. 
 
 " Quite. I just took a little exploratory tour in that 
 direction." 
 
 " And where do we go after this? " 
 
 " To Canada, my friend, as straight and as speedily 
 as the necessity of concealing ourselves from the offi- 
 cial eye will permit. We have plenty of louis d'or, 
 and some English broad pieces. When one horse 
 gives out we can buy another ; and so with the help 
 of a good deal of pardonable lying, which I take upon 
 my own conscience, we will get through admirably." 
 
 Francois sighed. "To-night!" murmured he in a 
 melancholy voice. The abb6 made a movement of 
 impatience, and suddenly said, 
 
 " By the way, Monsieur le Baron, let me congratu
 
 176 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 late you on your birthday, although a week or so gone 
 by. Is it possible that it is seven years since we mer- 
 rily kept the twentieth in the dear old Chateau de 
 Montarnaud ? Do you remember how the tenants and 
 vassals all nocked to the chateau to drink the young 
 baron's health, and to hope that he would marry some 
 noble lady, and come to live among them? And per- 
 haps you may yet, man baron" 
 
 " Never, man abbe" interjected Francois. 
 
 "And Mademoiselle de Rochenbois," pursued the 
 priest musingly, " how lovely she looked that day, as 
 she placed the olive-wreath upon your head, and bent 
 to whisper I know not what in your ear." 
 
 " Enough, Per Despard, enough ! " interrupted the 
 baron. " You are very subtle, and you have only my 
 own interests at heart ; but you cannot influence me 
 thus. As you have reminded me, I am to-day a man 
 twenty-seven years old, and for the last seven of those 
 years a soldier of fortune. The story of those years 
 has altogether effaced the pride of birth, the appetite 
 for adulation, the hope of adorning the proud name 
 bequeathed to me, yes, even the memory of Valerie 
 de Rochenbois, whose name I speak to-day for the 
 first and the last time since we turned our backs upon 
 the land that holds her, and speak it simply to show 
 you that I can do so. No, abb, you are very clever ; 
 but it is not thus that you will move me." 
 
 "Then are we to pack three persons into yonder 
 little vehicle, and so make sure of discovery, imprison- 
 ment, and perhaps death, at the hands of a Puritan 
 mob?" asked Despard sullenly.
 
 AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. IJJ 
 
 " Wrong again, my abb. I will not take my wife 
 away from her father's house until I have a home of 
 my own to offer her." 
 
 " Your wife, monsieur ! " 
 
 " Not yet, but so to be, mon pretre" 
 
 " Eh bien ! When the war is well over, no doubt 
 we shall travel back from Canada to find our rustic 
 bonne-et-belle, and no doubt she will have waited for 
 us ; and the golden age will come back to adorn our 
 nuptials. Pray celebrate them in the summer-time, 
 that all the sheep and pigs, not forgetting Amariah, 
 may wear wreaths of roses." 
 
 " Cher abbe, you are very angry, and it seems to me 
 are forgetting yourself a little. Suppose we separate 
 for an hour or so ; and, when we both have our tempers 
 more under control, I have a further proposition to 
 make to you." 
 
 " Pray excuse any want of deference I may have 
 shown, Monsieur le Baron, either to you or to the fair 
 Dulcinea del Toboso, who " 
 
 The violent closing of the door in Francois' hand 
 cut short the priest's apology and comparison ; and 
 with a wrathful smile upon his lips he went down- 
 stairs, and posted himself doggedly at the bedside of 
 lus patient. 
 
 " The sooner they get together, and settle the man- 
 ner of our triple suicide, the better," muttered he in 
 French ; and Mistress Wilder turned feverishly on her 
 pillow to ask, 
 
 "What are you saying, doctor? " 
 
 "That you are surprisingly better, madame. Now
 
 1/8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 please to tell me how many times in your life before 
 this, you have been ill." 
 
 Five minutes later, Dr. Schwarz smiled at seeing 
 Molly steal quietly out of the kitchen.
 
 THE BETROTHAL. 1/9 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE BETROTHAL. 
 
 CREEPING softly up the stairs in a reluctant 
 fashion, most unlike her usual decisive step, 
 Molly paused outside the screen covering the entrance 
 to the " priest's chamber," and timidly peeped through 
 before entering. 
 
 Francois sat beside his little table, his chin in hia 
 palm, his eyes set in such earnest meditation that he 
 had not heard her light approach. Evidently some 
 thought deep and painful, leading to some momentous 
 resolve, was stirring at his heart, some thought that 
 drove the color from his cheek, drew his brows to- 
 gether in a heavy frown, and set his lips so sternly that 
 the tawny moustache writhed sardonically. Suddenly 
 he straightened himself; and with an airy gesture of 
 contempt, as of flinging some bauble from him, he 
 exclaimed aloud, 
 
 " Adieu, la belle France ! La belle Valerie ! Toutes 
 les bagatelles de man enfance / Voila une belle pay- 
 sanne " 
 
 Part she understood, part she guessed, and with a 
 gesture as haughty as his own she turned to go away ; 
 but the light rustle of her garments caught his ear, and 
 springing forward he pulled aside the curtain, and,
 
 180 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 seizing her hand, drew her toward him so confidently, 
 almost rudely, that she released herself, saying cold- 
 
 iy,- 
 
 "What is the matter, Francois? I came only to 
 ask what provision I shall make for your journey. 
 You will need food, for you must avoid the publics in 
 this part of the country ; and you must have plenty of 
 warm clothing, and " 
 
 " I need and must have something far more valu- 
 able than food or clothes, belle et chere Marie," inter- 
 rupted Francois, attempting to put an arm about her 
 waist ; but, drawing back, she said yet more coldly, 
 
 " Your pleasure in quitting this poor place, sir, puts 
 you beside yourself. What is this that you wish for, 
 then?" 
 
 " O Marie, be not so coy, so chill ! Do not trifle in 
 these few last precious moments. You know very well, 
 sweet one, what it is I want : it is you, my darling, 
 your own dear, stern, yet most tender, self. Marie, 
 you love me, do you not? " 
 
 " You take too much for granted, sir ; and I like not 
 this style* of talk, hidden away here in my father's 
 garret. The man who woos me must do it openly." 
 
 " But, Marie, you know how that is impossible. If 
 I come down these stairs, and declare myself to thy 
 father, what choice do I leave the good man but either 
 to deliver me with my friend up to government, or 
 brand himself forever as a traitor, forfeiting land and 
 liberty, nay, it may be life, it he lets us go? Will you 
 destroy your father as well as your lover and his best 
 friend, Marie?"
 
 THE BETROTHAL. l8l 
 
 " No, I will not do that," said Molly tardily ; and a 
 look of perplexity softened the rigor of her brow. 
 The man saw his advantage, and pushed it : 
 
 "You would rather sacrifice yourself, dear saint: 
 but that you cannot do without sacrificing at least one 
 life with yours ; for I swear to you, Marie, I swear it 
 on this crucifix," and, drawing from his breast the 
 golden and jewelled crucifix his dying mother had 
 hung there, and which had never left his neck, the 
 young man pressed it to his lips, and held it in his 
 hand as he continued, "yes, I swear upon this sacred 
 emblem that I will never leave this place again until 
 you have not only given me heart for heart, Marie, 
 but have promised to become my wife when I shall 
 claim you." 
 
 " O Francois ! Wicked, foolish, unkind ! How 
 dare you so take the name of God in vain? Think 
 what you say ! Suppose I do not give these crazy 
 promises and assurances which you have no right to 
 demand, what will you do? Spend the rest of your 
 life here, pr'ythee ? " 
 
 " Spare your scorn, ma belle : I speak no more than 
 I mean, and can carry out. What will I do, say you ? 
 Not stay here, in truth ! I am tired of playing a rat's 
 rdle, and hiding in a garret. Why, truth of me, Marie, 
 I am growing afraid of your Tabby already. No, if I 
 once am convinced that Marie refuses my love, and 
 scorns my offer of marriage, I will not indeed leave 
 this garret, since I have sworn not, but I will come 
 out and dance a gavotte upon those loose boards 
 yonder, and company myself with so blithe a song,
 
 1 82 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 that not only your venerated father, but Amariah, 
 whom I really long to see, and Tabitha, and perhaps 
 ma dame your mamma herself, will come rushing up 
 to see what demon has taken possession of their 
 house. Then I shall say that I have hidden myself 
 here quite altogether with nobody's knowledge, but 
 Hat I find voluntary imprisonment as bad as involun- 
 tary, and, besides, desire most ardently to visit the 
 village of Boston, and so give myself over what ! 
 O Marie, Marie, forgive me, sweet, forgive me ! " For 
 Molly, hurt, frightened, perplexed, above all beset by 
 a new and nameless sorrow gnawing at her heart by 
 day and night ever since the baron's flight had seemed 
 imminent, suddenly broke down, and, sinking into a 
 chair, laid her pretty arms upon the table, and her 
 face upon them, and began sobbing, not noisily, but 
 in the deep grieved fashion of a loving yet reticent 
 heart, wrung beyond endurance. 
 
 Before that sight and sound, the bitter mockery of 
 the young man's mood fled away like fog before the 
 west wind, and left the clear depths of his better 
 nature open to God's dear light. 
 
 Kneeling beside the weeping girl, yet not daring to 
 touch her, save a timid finger upon her arm, he 
 pleaded his cause : I know not how, she knew not 
 how, yet so successfully that after a little the noble 
 head rose slowly, and the brimming eyes met his with 
 a smile so shy and proud, and withal so sweet, that 
 the lover's arms fairly quivered in their longing to 
 grasp and claim that loveliness, yet dared not stir, 
 lest the dear smile should vanish.
 
 THE BETROTHAL. 183 
 
 " Marie ! I love you, I love you dearly ! Will you 
 be mine honored wife ? " whispered he ; and Molly, 
 still smiling yet unbending, replied, 
 
 " Why, that is better, Francois ! At first you would 
 have had me confess to loving you, and now it is you 
 who say you love me." 
 
 " Yes. I was wrong at first. O child ! you are cruel, 
 you torture me, it is not worthy of you : you are not 
 of the women who play with men's hearts, and fling 
 them away ; you are strong, you are brave, you are 
 noble. Be worthy of yourself in this moment, Marie. 
 Answer my true, deep love, truly and honestly." 
 
 He said no more, but rose to his feet, pale and 
 eager, yet with a sudden dignity upon him which 
 Molly had never felt before. The blood of genera- 
 tions of nobles, of men who loved honor better than 
 life, and women who armed their husbands and sons 
 for battle, and held their castles against the foe in 
 their absence, was stirring in his veins ; and not even 
 for his life's love would he longer sue, or brook trifling 
 or hesitancy. Molly looked at him ; and the percep- 
 tion, subtler than thought, told her all this, told her, 
 too, that on that moment's truth and courage hung her 
 own and another's happiness for a whole life. She, 
 too, rose ; and standing bravely before him, though her 
 face burned rosy-red, and her voice choked almost 
 into a sob, she said, 
 
 " I will not trifle, I will not hide the truth : yes, I 
 do love you, Francois." 
 
 "Now God's blessing on you, my brave, sweet 
 love ! " exclaimed the baron, putting his arm about
 
 184 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 her, and pressing the kiss of betrothal upon her lips, 
 yet immediately releasing her, and saying, with a ten- 
 der authority in his tone, 
 
 " Now, then, bonne-et-bellc, sit you there ; and since 
 we have but one chair in our menage, I will sit upon 
 the stool beside you, and let us arrange for our 
 wedding. And first of all, dear love, I have no name 
 but Francois." 
 
 " Nay, Francois, I must confess to having surprised 
 one of your secrets. I know your name already." 
 
 " You know my name ! How then, mistress ? " 
 
 "Do not be vexed, but your friend all uncon- 
 sciously betrayed it. He asked, 'Does Monsieur le 
 Baron wish to see me ? ' Now I know that monsieur 
 in French is answerable to master in English, so le 
 baron remains for your name. Master LeBaron they 
 would call you here." 
 
 The cloud of annoyance passed from the baron's 
 brow ; and with a quizzical smile he replied, 
 
 " Your wit is too shrewd for me to gainsay it, pretty 
 one ; and I confess myself vanquished. Then, since 
 my name is Master LeBaron, will you be called Mis- 
 tress LeBaron, and that at the time I am about to 
 propose?" 
 
 " O Francois ! no need of settling that yet. It will 
 be many a long day before the war is over, and you 
 can come back," said Molly with a sigh. 
 
 "So many, sweetheart ('tis the prettiest word in all 
 your language, Marie, and I have so often longed to 
 say it to you), so many days until the war is over, that 
 we will wait for none of them, not one. We will be 
 wed this very night, before I leave the house."
 
 THE BETROTHAL. 185 
 
 "Nay, now, Francois, I shall be displeased again 
 an you take that tone. It is but folly to speak of it, 
 besides." 
 
 " Wait now, my fiancee, and listen, and be not so 
 ready to decide matters on which I have thought for 
 days." 
 
 " But, think as hard as you may, Francois, you can- 
 not make me think of playing traitor to my father so." 
 
 " Nay, child, what traitor ? If I come back here 
 with means of supporting you, with a position as a 
 physician, and with a constant though weary heart, 
 and we told your father we had been affianced since 
 so many years, and you assured him that you loved 
 me well, and would wed none but me, think you he 
 would consent? " 
 
 " I know he would, for he too loves me well." 
 
 " With father-love, yes. It is I who will show you 
 what is a man's love for his wife, my Marie. But 
 hold, I will not be tempted from my point. He 
 would consent, you say. Well, then, what harm in 
 giving our betrothal the sanctity and safety of a priest's 
 blessing? It is but the ceremony that I ask, not one 
 kiss of your dear lips unless you give it willingly. 
 Only let me feel, in going out to face danger, hard- 
 ship, and death, that the sweet saint who prays for 
 me, as I know Marie will pray, has a wife's right to 
 be heard above ; and that, come what will of change 
 or chance to her or me or others, she is still ray 
 own true wife whenever I can claim her. Only God 
 and our two selves and the priest will know ; but 1 
 shall go out, and you will stay here, both of us armed
 
 1 86 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 fur our separate fight as no uncertain contract could 
 ever arm us." 
 
 He was silent, keenly watching the face of the 
 young girl drooped in anxious thought. He saw that 
 her own heart fought on his side, and, like a wise 
 general, did not interfere with the action of his allies. 
 At last she said dreamily, 
 
 "And I tried so hard to be a truthful girl, at least." 
 
 " And do not you owe truth to your husband, prom- 
 ised or actual, more than to any other man ? And will 
 not this be the strongest possible safeguard to your 
 truth? " asked the lover almost harshly. " You know 
 how your mother wishes you to marry this sccterat, 
 who would sell my head for twenty dollars ; and you 
 know how she will urge you, and how you may be all 
 but forced into it, especially should she in dying make 
 it her last petition, or should your father die, and 
 leave you alone in her hands. And, if you cannot 
 marry him, is it not stronger than if you simply will 
 not? At any rate, it lifts a load from my heart in 
 leaving you, Marie, if that is something." 
 
 "That is, indeed, almost every thing. But my 
 father ! I cannot, cannot deceive him, Francois. I 
 will not ! " 
 
 " Four and twenty hours after I am gone you shall 
 tell him, if you will. Sooner than that, he might feel 
 bound to give the alarm. You shall tell him, or in- 
 deed anybody else, after that time, that you are a 
 wedded maiden, waiting in her father's house until 
 her husband can claim her." 
 
 Another pause, and then Molly said again,
 
 THE BETROTHAL. l8/ 
 
 "But the minister, Mr. Watkins, couldn't come 
 without every one knowing." 
 
 " And he need not come," replied Frangois more 
 gayly ; for well he knew the proverb of the fortress 
 and the woman who parleys. " We want no Vatkins 
 here, for we have a consecrated priest beneath the 
 roof already." 
 
 "What, Dr. Schwarz?" 
 
 " You call him so, sweetheart, but he is a priest. I 
 will not say his name ; but his title is Monsieur 1'Abb^, 
 and he can marry us so that none but the Pope him- 
 self can undo the knot." 
 
 " Then he is a Papist ; and you, Frangois?" 
 
 " I too, Marie. Did you not know it? " 
 
 " I guessed it the first day, when when I saw that 
 thing about your neck." 
 
 " My mother's crucifix, Marie : she hung it there, 
 praying with her dying lips that it would shield her 
 boy from harm to sou) and body; and of a truth, 
 soldier of fortune though I am, and rough life though 
 I may have led, I believe that prayer has done its 
 work ; and no sin beyond repentance has stained the 
 soul, and no great harm, though many a danger, has 
 befallen the body. Marie, as I lay there on your cruel 
 shore, my arm mangled between those rocks, and 
 death already clutching at my heart, I found strength 
 to put that crucifix to my lips, and call upon the Son 
 of God for aid in my extremity. The next wave, 
 instead of beating the breath from my body, lifted 
 me, and carried me high upon the beach. I was 
 saved."
 
 1 88 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Oh, thank God, thank God, Fra^ois ! " 
 
 "Yes; but I think my appeal, and the blessed cru- 
 cifix, and my mother's prayers moved the good God 
 then," said Francois simply ; and Molly, looking into 
 liis brave, earnest eyes, felt a moment's vague regret 
 that she had not been reared in this positive, comfort- 
 ing faith. So it was answering herself, rather than 
 him, that she said, 
 
 " But I can never become a Papist." 
 
 " Poor child ! How little you know the joy that 
 you scorn ! frightened from it by the bugaboos men 
 have set up. But I will never constrain you, sweet 
 wife, nor even argue with you : religion shall be one 
 of the things we will put away, and never speak about. 
 I am not afraid for you, my saint." 
 
 " One of the things ? What else, Francois ? " asked 
 Molly in a troubled voice; but Francois answered 
 firmly, 
 
 "All my life, sweetheart, until the night I tapped 
 upon your casement, including him whom you call 
 Schwarz, and one whose name you have twice pro- 
 nounced, but will never speak again if you would 
 spare me pain. Canst curb thy woman's curiosity, 
 thy wifely rights, so far? " 
 
 "It is not curiosity, Francois; but you ask very 
 much. I give you my whole heart, lay open my whole 
 Kfe. Your kiss is the first, man save my father, evei 
 laid upon my lips." 
 
 "And I can give you no such sweet assurance, 
 Marie. I am seven years your senior in years, seven 
 times seven in experience of the world, and a rough,
 
 THE BETROTHAL. l8> 
 
 bad world too. I give you no freshness ; I can make 
 you no confidences of the past ; but, from this day 
 out, I give you my life, all and entire. I give you my 
 love, my faith, my honor, my all. Perhaps one wo- 
 man in a thousand is strong enough in herself to give 
 such perfect confidence to her husband ; and I believe 
 you to be that woman, Marie. Am I right? Will 
 you trust me so entirely? Will you be my wife?" 
 
 And Molly, laying her hands in his, and raising her 
 calm eyes fearlessly to meet his scrutiny, simply said, 
 "I will"
 
 I QO A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. 
 
 THE great eight-day clock in the kitchen struck 
 twelve with all the resonance and deliberation 
 so clearly distinguishing the midnight from the noon- 
 day voice of any responsible clock ; and as the sound 
 died away in the supernatural stillness, also sure to 
 follow the stroke of midnight, the door leading from 
 the parlor to the kitchen opened very gently, and 
 Molly's pale face peeped out and listened anxiously 
 to the quiet breathing of the invalid, accompanied by 
 the more positive demonstrations of the husband 
 sleeping on a cot beside her bed. 
 
 Truth to tell, Dr. Schwarz had assured his patient 
 a good night's rest by a judicious soporific; and 
 Humphrey, like most hard-working healthy men, need- 
 ed no coaxing to his ten-hours' slumber. 
 
 " God bless them both, and forgive me ! " said Mol- 
 ly under her breath, as she re-closed the door, and 
 turned the button upon the inside. Then raking open 
 the fire, with which, rather to her father's surprise, she 
 had indulged herself on retiring, she lighted a couple 
 of candles by aid of one of the coals, put some wood 
 upon the embers, and looked shyly about her ; for this 
 was Molly Wilder's wedding-day, coming up so still
 
 GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS, igi 
 
 and cold from the wintiy sea ; and all alone in the 
 dim chill chamber she was to make her bridal toilet. 
 But how? She had no pretty clothes, no ornaments 
 or coquetries of the toilet, for her mother's asceti- 
 cism and the lonely life alike discouraged such frivol- 
 ities : but Francois had jestingly bade her make her- 
 self beautiful for his eyes, since there would be no 
 others to admire her ; and she fain would do so. 
 
 But again, how ? Ever since nine o'clock, when she 
 retired to her extempore couch upon the parlor- floor, 
 Molly's mind had been actively exercised in recalling 
 all the traditions of brides, their costumes, and their 
 manners, that ever had come within her knowledge. 
 The only one she had seen with her own eyes was at 
 a meeting of Friends she had attended with her par- 
 ents : and that one was about forty years old, and 
 wore a skimpy dress, cape, and bonnet, all made from 
 the same piece of drab-colored silk, and, by way of 
 ornament, had decked herself with such an air of stern 
 resignation and determination, that Molly, on the way 
 home, innocently inquired of her mother if Friend 
 Hannah Trimble were married against her will, that 
 she looked so sour over it; and Deborah, yielding 
 with a grim smile to the fascination of bridal gossip, 
 replied that it were shrewder to ask that question of 
 Phineas Coffin, since every one knew Hannah had wed 
 him whether he would or no. 
 
 "But do all brides look like that, mother? " persisted 
 the child ; and her mother, plunging still deeper into 
 worldly talk, proceeded to describe a bride and a 
 wedding she had seen in the parish-church at home,
 
 192 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 where the lovely Lady Anne was arrayed in flowing 
 white satin robes, with garniture and veil of ancestral 
 lace, and a crown of orange-blossoms upon her head, 
 a bevy of noble maidens at her side, and troops of 
 village children to scatter flowers in her path. 
 
 As old memories came back, Deborah's cheek 
 flushed, and her eyes sparkled; but Molly still ap- 
 peared dissatisfied. " But that was a lord's daughter 
 marrying a lord," objected she. " How do people like 
 us dress? How were you dressed yourself, mother? " 
 
 Deborah smiled a little, and looked slyly at her 
 husband, who grinned sympathetically back at her ; and 
 then she said with an odd softness in her voice, 
 
 "Why, there was a time about it, child. Thee 
 knows I was a Friend already, and should by rights 
 have dressed like Hannah Trimble to-day: but thy 
 father, there, set his hard head against it, and would 
 have his bride come to him in white, as a pure maid 
 has a right to do ; and at last my people gave in, and 
 my father himself bought the white cambric for my 
 dress ; and when I was to leave the house he stuck a 
 white rose in my hah-, and said it matched my neck ; 
 and we walked to your father's parish-church, and 
 were married just as well as Lady Anne herself. I 
 have the dress saved by for thee, child, when thee is 
 grown. The body will be a deal too little, but thft 
 skirt will make thee a fine petticoat for best. But 
 there, enough of this worldly talk. Humphrey, did not 
 thee think the Spirit moved me mightily in meeting 
 yesterday? Did thee like what I said ? " 
 
 Molly remained obediently silent, but rested not by
 
 GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. 193 
 
 day nor night until the white cambric dress was given 
 over to her own keeping; and the skirt, lengthened 
 down by several inches and freshly laundered, now 
 hung over a chair ready to serve at its second bridal. 
 
 " All in white, as a pure maid has a right," repeated 
 Molly to herself, as she looked at it, and touched it 
 reverently. " Yes, I will be in white, sure enough ; bu 
 what white?" 
 
 She opened the closet-door where all her wardrobe 
 hung since yesterday, and stood, a finger upon her lip, 
 contemplating the well-remembered garments in silent 
 perplexity. 
 
 That new stuff dress of Quaker brown, so ugly in 
 its fit, and clumsy in fashion? No, indeed. The 
 Striped blue and white linsey-woolsey, or the yet shab- 
 bier gray and black ? Oh, no ! The homespun linen 
 for summer wear, and the striped short-gown and 
 petticoat, and the " cooler " for hot weather of India 
 chintz, brought from England in the emigration? 
 Not one of all these was of the slightest value now ; 
 and Molly shut the closet-door with a sigh, and looked 
 ah out her. But refusing is not choosing ; and when 
 the closet-door was closed, Molly had shut away her 
 entire wardrobe, and stood looking about her with such 
 an air of dejection and perplexity, that, much as we 
 condsmn her stolen marriage, v r e fain must pity her a 
 little, all alone here in the silence of midnight, so for- 
 lornly struggling to provide some little beauty and 
 fitness for that nuptial hour, around which fond 
 mothers ordinarily heap their tenderest cares, and smil- 
 ing friends their most assiduous attentions.
 
 I9/ A NAMELESS NOBLE MA A". 
 
 Even the resolute determination for a white dress 
 had something of pathos in it ; for it sprung from the 
 unconscious protest the maiden soul was making 
 against what might seem unmaidenly even in his eyes 
 for whom the sacrifice was made. " As a pure maid 
 has the right," she whispered to herself again, as, tak- 
 ing a little wooden box from a drawer, she sat down to 
 turn over its but too familiar contents. Such poor 
 little bits of finery ! So useless, so ugly ! One longs 
 to re-create that fair form and bright maiden head 
 from the dust of two centuries, and pity and caress 
 and comfort it at least. Two centuries and more ago, 
 and yet how close akin to yon young girl's heart was 
 this whose story her descendant so lovingly tells to-day 1 
 The world is born new every day, yet always the same 
 dear old world. 
 
 Ah ! One item for the toilet at last. Here are 
 some yards of white ribbon bought for a bonnet- 
 trimming of that peddler last summer, and not yet 
 used. That will do for well, something; but the 
 recollection of the peddler has suggested another 
 idea, an idea at the same time so audacious and so 
 delightful that Molly stood for a moment with clasped 
 hands and blazing cheeks contemplating it in the air 
 before venturing to approach more closely. Then, 
 laying the box back in the secretary-drawer, she drew 
 from the very remotest corner of that receptacle a 
 parcel wrapped in silver-paper, and carefully pinned; 
 and, seating herself, slowly unfolded and unrolled a 
 web of delicate bobbinet lace, bought in much fear 
 and trembling at the expense, by Mistress Wilder, of
 
 GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. 195 
 
 Jhis same peddler, who professed to have himself im- 
 ported it from Holland for the especial use of feminine 
 Friends, who used it for those formally folded yet not 
 ungraceful neckerchiefs forming part of their regu- 
 lation costume. The purchase made, and the peddler 
 gone, Deborah's heart, at once thrifty and ascetic, 
 sorely misgave her for her self-indulgence ; and, care- 
 fully laying aside her lace, she confined herself for 
 some months to the coarsest and poorest of the muslin 
 kerchiefs with which she was already supplied. Molly, 
 who had watched and smiled at this little comedy, had 
 from time to time tried to persuade her mother to 
 wear the lace, or else allow her to do so : but piety 
 forbade one of these courses, and prudence the other ; 
 and the coveted snare lay fresh and crisp in its rustling 
 paper, all ready to entangle the footsteps of the incau- 
 tious maiden who approached it. 
 
 " A bridal veil, and of the choicest, if only I dare 
 use it ! " murmured Molly, unwrapping the lace, and 
 letting it float over her two hands as she held it above 
 her head, and glanced shyly into the black depths of 
 the mirror, whence she half expected to see her 
 mother's angry face confront her. 
 
 " But I will be so very, very careful of it, mother 
 dear, if only you will lend it," whispered she, turning 
 toward the partition behind which lay her mother's 
 bedroom. 
 
 Reverently laying the lace upon the backs of two 
 chairs, Molly once more gazed around the room, seek- 
 ing inspiration from the familiar surroundings. The 
 secretary? Nay, she knew the contents of every one
 
 IU6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 of its drawers, and no bridal dresses were among 
 them. The closet? It had been ransacked. The 
 cupboard above the fire? Nothing there. The tri- 
 angular buffet, or, as Molly had always heard it 
 called, the bo-fat, in the corner? It contained some 
 precious bits of china and glass, and the silver teapot 
 that had been her father's father's, but nothing to 
 meet the present need. The chest? Molly's eye* 
 dwel'. upon it long and meditatively, as if by clairvoy- 
 ance reviewing through the closed lid the manifold 
 objects she had so often seen displayed. The chest 
 itself was a curiosity, and nowadays would be a treas- 
 ure ; for it was of dark English oak, quaintly carved, 
 and adorned with old brasses, such as we vainly imi- 
 tate to-day in lacquer-work. It had belonged in the 
 Wilder family long before Humphrey himself joined 
 it, and had "come over" with him, if not in "The 
 Mayflower," at least in one of those later vessels 
 which actually brought so many of the chattels at- 
 tributed to the freight of that remarkable little brig. 
 But, although the chest was old, the country was as 
 yet too new to value it for its age ; and even Molly 
 considered it more as a convenient receptacle for 
 household stuff not in frequent use, than as an heir- 
 loom ; and she mentally went through its treasures 
 with mournful negation of each one, until she mur- 
 mured to herself, " and grandmother Ames's cur- 
 tains." Then she stopped, flushed a little with some 
 sudden thought, swiftly crossed the room, and, kneel- 
 ing before the chest, lifted the heavy lid, and burrowed 
 in its contents. Finally she dragged up from the
 
 GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. Ity 
 
 depths a great parcel, carefully pinned up in linen, 
 with a paper pasted upon the outside, inscribed, 
 " Grandmother Ames's Curtains." 
 
 Carrying the package nearer to the light, Molly 
 unfastened it, and rapidly took out and unfolded the 
 contents. They were such as are to be found in 
 many an old family chest to-day, perhaps carefully 
 preserved as monuments of the industry and task of 
 the women who have gone before ; perhaps tossed 
 aside and forgotten, and merely retaining their places 
 in the land of the living because no one takes interest 
 enough in them to destroy them. For grandmother 
 Ames's curtains were a full suit for three windows and 
 a bedstead, of fine India muslin, and all wrought by 
 her own fair hands with festoons and wreaths and scat- 
 tered bouquets of such flowers as may have bloomed 
 in Eden, but never upon the vulgar earth ; with won- 
 drous scrolls and arabesques, and such wanton freaks 
 of needlework as the inspired composer of music may 
 indulge in upon his piano, or the accomplished " skat- 
 ist " perform upon the ice before an admiring crowd. 
 Grandmother Ames was a swift and diligent needle- 
 woman, and these curtains had been the great achieve- 
 ment, the magnum opus, of her life ; and at her death 
 they were solemnly bequeathed to her daughter Debo- 
 rah, constituting with one feather-bed, and one scarlet 
 broadcloth cloak and hood, a fair and equitable fourth 
 of the Ames inheritance. Molly Wilder had often 
 seen these curtains, and admired them with that sort 
 of vague awe inspired by the Bayeux tapestry, or a 
 patchwork carpet said to contain ten thousand bits of
 
 198 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 cloth, or any other enormous and utterly useless waste 
 of human life and industry : but to-day they aroused 
 a ne\v and vital interest in her mind, and one certainly 
 never contemplated by their artificer ; for in all those 
 yards of wrought muslin, a little tarnished by years, 
 but still of a very delicate creamy white, the maiden 
 saw the vision of a wedding-dress, a vision not clearly 
 defined as yet, hardly more indeed than a bright pos- 
 sibility, but still something to set her cheeks to glow- 
 ing, and her eyes to flashing, and her fair bosom to 
 panting with delight and impatience. The curtains 
 must not be cut, of course ; and how else could they 
 be shaped? Again and again Molly took up the 
 separate pieces, and examined them, busily murmuring 
 the while, 
 
 "These six long window-curtains will make the 
 skirt, sweeping the floor like that Lady Anne wore 
 when mother saw her married : nay, I will use two for 
 a round petticoat, and the other four shall make the 
 train. Ay, that goes swimmingly ; and for the body, 
 why not this headpiece of the bed-curtains?" She 
 held it out at arm's-length, and surveyed it with thai 
 intuitive appreciation and speculation in her eye, an- 
 swering in the feminine genius to the fine frenzy of a 
 Galileo or a Mitchell searching for the possible planet 
 or comet science has taught him to expect in defiance 
 of all the usual beliefs of man. It was a long, scarf- 
 shaped, or rather cape-shaped, piece of muslin, some 
 ihree feet broad in the middle, and perhaps six or 
 seven long, designed to hang inside the two head- 
 posts of the old-fashioned bedstead, and to delight the
 
 GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. 1 99 
 
 eyes of its occupant or occupants, since no one out- 
 side could catch a glimpse of it. 
 
 " Let me see, let me see," murmured Molly busily ; 
 and, hastily arranging the more substantial part of hei 
 toilet, she adjusted the skirt and train, and then, taking 
 the head-piece, laid it over her shoulders like a shawl, 
 crossed it upon her bosom, and tied the ends behind 
 in a great knot, the soft and fine fabric lending itself 
 readily to an arrangement impossible with any thing 
 more substantial, and Molly's stately and statuesque 
 figure bearing oif grandly that style of classic drapery 
 which on most modern figures is so overwhelming and 
 unbecoming. The edge of the fichu thus arranged 
 covered the upper part of the arms ; and the days had 
 not yet arrived when the sleeve became an indispensa- 
 ble part of the dress, being at that time ranked more 
 with gloves and masks as part of the out-door costume, 
 to be tied on when about to leave the house, and laid 
 aside on entering it. So Molly, gazing into the dim 
 mirror, felt no dismay in observing that the round, 
 white arm was uncovered from the elbow down, or 
 that a soft and creamy bit of neck was to be seen 
 between the folds of the fichu, blending admirably 
 with the stately throat above, and suggesting sweet 
 possibilities below. 
 
 Then Molly loosened her chestnut hair, coiled it 
 afresh, and laid over it the web of lace, suffering one 
 end to cover her face, and binding it around with the 
 fillet of white ribbon in unconscious classic accord 
 with the style of her robe, and in perfect harmony 
 with her own Juno-like beauty.
 
 200 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Finally clasping her hands, and dropping them in 
 front of her, she stood for a moment looking at her- 
 self in shy approval and astonishment ; for never had 
 mirror given back to her an image like this, and yet 
 it was herself. Her own gray eyes, but when so soft 
 and dewy in their brightness? her own mouth, but 
 when so tremulous and tender in its dreamy smile ? 
 her own cheeks, but when so charmingly colored? 
 even the wide white chin looked soft and loving to- 
 night; even the little ear blushed pink with sweet 
 emotion ; even the bright hair lay more softly upon 
 the brow, and coiled more crown-like upon the queen- 
 ly head. 
 
 Yes, she saw that she was lovely, for she had quick 
 appreciation of all loveliness : and she used the knowl- 
 edge as her noble nature and pure heart prompted ; 
 for, still gazing in the mirror, she said, " It is because 
 Francois loves me, that I look like this ; and how can 
 I thank God enough for sending him to love me, and 
 for making me comely in his eyes ! " 
 
 So she fell upon her knees, and had not yet arisen, 
 when the clock struck three. 
 
 It was her bridal hour.
 
 TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH. 2O 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE WHOLE TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. 
 
 THE clock struck three ; and, quietly opening the 
 door into the front hall, Molly stole through the 
 passage and up the stairs ; her white robes shimmer- 
 ing ghostily, her light foot noiseless as Tabitha's, who, 
 having with round grave eyes watched the progress 
 of the toilet, now accompanied the bride, somewhat 
 as the "milk-white doe" escorted Lady Clare, seek- 
 ing Lord Ronald's tower. 
 
 The door of Molly's own room stood open, and her 
 lover, advancing to meet her, took both hands, and, 
 raising them deferentially to his lips, murmured, 
 
 " My brave, true love ! " and so led her into the 
 room where stood a tall swarthy stranger, at sight of 
 whom Molly stopped in astonishment ; but her lover 
 re-assured her: 
 
 " It is your old friend Schwarz, Marie : he was in 
 disguise, that he might the better help me. Now you 
 see him au naturel, that is all. I would present him 
 to you if I dared, but it is better you never hear the 
 names in which our enemies still may search for us ; 
 so call him, if you will, Monsieur l'Abb, or perhaps 
 monpere Are you content? Can you trust me in 
 all?"
 
 202 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " I hare trusted you, and I will always trust you, 
 Francois," said Molly with such sweet gravity of 
 meaning that the lover's cheek was tinged with deliglit 
 as he ardently replied, 
 
 " And you shall never repent your noble confidence, 
 my Marie : I promise it to you foi de foi d'un 
 gentilhomme. Now, mon pere." 
 
 The abbe, who remained so grave and silent that 
 one might say he had but little relish for his duty, 
 opened the wave-worn little book in his hand, and 
 began to read the service in a voice hardly above a 
 whisper, yet so sonorous and full in its intonations that 
 the Latin words, falling for the first time upon Molly's 
 unlearned ear, seemed the language of some strange, 
 beautiful land of romance, wherein she walked as in a 
 gorgeous dream; and surely romance could hardly 
 have hoped, in this wintry wilderness, to find material 
 so fitting as this dim chamber, with the sombre priest 
 hurriedly muttering his full-mouthed Latin phrases, the 
 beautiful bride in her quaint costume, the stately bride- 
 groom gazing at her so ardently, and Tabitha, who, 
 seated in the midst, fixed her gleaming eyes on each 
 in succession with true Satanic intelligence. 
 
 "La bague, mon fils" muttered the priest; and 
 Fran?ois, slipping from his finger the great amethyst 
 Molly had 3d mired when her future lover lay wounded 
 and half dead at her feet, placed it upon her finger, 
 and held it there while he repeated after the priest 
 some words whose meaning Molly could only guess. 
 
 " Kneel, my children," said the priest in English, 
 and. as they obeyed, he laid his hands upon their
 
 TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH. 203 
 
 heads, and, in a firmer and heartier tone than he yet 
 had used, bestowed upon them the apostolic blessing, 
 which, in the belief of both men, conveyed a positive 
 gift of good far beyond a charitable wish ; while Molly 
 felt the tears start to her eyes in gratitude for she knew 
 not what. 
 
 "Monsieur and Madame LeBaron, allow me to 
 offer my warmest felicitations, and hopes for your 
 happiness," said the abbe*, as the new-married pair 
 rose to their feet ; and in pronouncing the new name, 
 adopted since morning by his friend and pupil, the 
 priest allowed a twinkle of humor to kindle his dark 
 eyes, and a tone more jocose than solemn to penetrate 
 his deep-toned voice. 
 
 But Molly could not appreciate the joke ; and Fran- 
 ois had no mind for it, being occupied in admiring 
 his bride. 
 
 "And whence this charming costume, so richly 
 wrought, and yet so virginal in its simplicity?" asked 
 he, touching the embroidered edge of the fichu as it 
 lay upon Molly's arm. " Is it not the Indian muslin 
 that our fine ladies abroad are so pleased to wear?" 
 
 " I believe <o. Do you like it? " replied she with a 
 flush of pleasure, and a dimpling smile at the jest she 
 in turn had all to herself. 
 
 " But whence did it come all of a sudden, as if the 
 fairies had decked thee for thy bridal ? " persisted 
 Francois a little curiously. Molly hesitated for half an 
 instant, and decided not to disillusionize her bridal 
 robe by bestowing upon it the homely name of 
 window- curtains ; and, in thus deciding the first ques-
 
 2O4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 tion arising in her married life, she gave no urimpor 
 tant clew to her whole future course ; for truth-telling 
 wives may be divided into two broad classes, those j 
 ,' who tell all the truth, and those who tell nothing buti 
 \ the truth : to our mind, and to Molly's, these latter are 
 the wisest, and even the truest to the spirit of their 
 marriage-vow. It was the first time the question had 
 been presented to her, and there was no time for 
 reasoning ; but intuition, deeper than reason, decided 
 it at once, and it was not half a minute after the 
 baron's question before his all-unconscious baroness 
 replied, 
 
 "And how do you know but the fairies did deck 
 me for my bridal ? You told me yourself it was the 
 mermaids who brought you here in the first place for 
 my" 
 
 " Nay, say it out, sweetheart, thy husband. Say 
 it for me once, dear wife. Lay thy coy arms about 
 my neck, and give me the kiss I will not take without 
 thy leave, and say, 'This for my husband Francois, 
 from Marie his wife.' " 
 
 Smiling and ashamed, she did exactly as he bid her ; 
 and he, holding her close to his heart for one sweet 
 moment, and then gazing reverently into the deep, 
 true eyes lifted to his so bravely yet so shyly, felt a 
 sudden burden of responsibility, almost of remorse, 
 fasten upon his heart, at knowledge of the change he 
 had wrought in this fair and pure life, and how its 
 whole future lay in his hand. 
 
 " God so deal with me, as I with you, my wife ! " 
 whispered he; and she for answer kissed him yet 
 again, then released herself from his embrace.
 
 TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH. 20$ 
 
 " I am sorry, my friends, but I must remind you of 
 the time," said the abbe dryly. "It is all but foul 
 o'clock ; and our friend Amariah is very matutinal, not 
 to mention our worthy host, who sometimes, as he 
 tells me, rises before the dawn." 
 
 "Yes, yes. Francois, you must go at once," ex- 
 claimed Molly, her firm mind springing back to its 
 balance upon the instant. " I drew the bolt of the 
 front door before I went to bed, and the hinges are 
 well oiled, so that it will open noiselessly. The basket 
 of provisions is in .he parlor, and the extra wrap- 
 pings are here." 
 
 " Most thoughtful of wives, and so young in that 
 sweet character ! " exclaimed Francois uxoriously. 
 " Yes, all is ready but my will ; and that I think will 
 never say, ' It is time to part.' " 
 
 " I pray you, do not forget the moccasins I gave you 
 to put over your boots, or the extra stockings. One's 
 feet are so cold after some hours in a sleigh." 
 
 " I will not forget, Griselda." 
 
 "And thy poor arm," pursued Molly, not caring to 
 inquire who Griselda might be, or have been ; and her 
 earnestness and persevering adherence to the matter 
 in hand roused Frangois from his dreams of delight, 
 as no personal responsibility would in the least have 
 done. 
 
 The abb6 also showed himself, in this emergency, 
 to be no less a man of affairs than a priest and a 
 physician : he thought of every thing, generally find- 
 ing, to be sure, that Molly had thought of it before- 
 hand, and laid down the whole plan of the escape
 
 2O6 A^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 both for Francois and himself so clearly that theie 
 could hardly occur at any point one of those dreadful 
 breaks in the chain of connection, by which many a 
 captive has, just in the moment of deliverance, found 
 the road cut from under his feet, and been helplessly 
 remanded to a bitterer captivity than ever. He had 
 even taken occasion, in the course of the day, to go 
 in and out of the front door several times, so that 
 whatever footprints might appear upon the hard 
 frozen snow should be attributed to his feet. Softly 
 opening the door, he pointed out this fact to the 
 baron, bidding him be careful to tread exactly in the 
 same track; but the caution was unheeded, for, as 
 the last barrier between the captive and liberty was 
 removed, he turned back to his captivity and his 
 jailer with a clinging love, such as he had not yet 
 known, and, clasping Molly in his arms, whispered, 
 
 " Sweet wife ! I cannot leave thee thus. Shall I 
 stay, and risk all, or will you come with me ? " 
 
 "Neither, Francois. We knew that we did but 
 join to part. Be strong, dear husband, and let me be 
 strong ; for you are a man, and should show me the 
 sxample." 
 
 " And so I will. Good-by, darling : God be with 
 you, and keep you ! Do not doubt me, even though 
 years should pass. So sure as I live, I will come to 
 claim you." 
 
 " I should never dream of doubting it," said Molly 
 in some surprise : and then they clung together in one 
 of those embraces whose passion is all pain, for the 
 sorrow of parting strikes its bitterness through the
 
 TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH. 2QJ 
 
 sweet of love, and the sweet makes the bitter all 
 the more pungent. 
 
 It was Molly who, at the last, unclasped her hus- 
 band's arms from around her neck, and gently push- 
 ing him toward the door whispered, 
 
 " Go. dear, in the name of pity, go ! " 
 
 "Yes, mon baron, it is madness to delay," mur- 
 mured the abb impatiently ; and Francois, without a 
 word, with but one more lingering kiss, allowed him- 
 self to be led to the door, which presently closed 
 behind him, but not until the last cautious echo of 
 his footsteps had died upon the frosty air. Then the 
 abbe" turned, and looked shrewdly at Molly. She was 
 white as her dress, and leaned heavily against the 
 door-casing with closed eyes, from beneath whose 
 lids great tears were slowly forcing their course. 
 Light as a cat the priest mounted the stairs to his own 
 room, and presently returned with a little flat silver 
 cup, part apparently of a pocket-flask. 
 
 " Drink this, madame ! " whispered he peremptorily. 
 " Drink, if but one sip, to your husband's safe jour- 
 ney." 
 
 " Oh, if I could insure it thus ! " replied Molly ; but 
 she took the cup, and smiled, and whispered some- 
 thing, and quaffed the contents, never knowing whether 
 it was sea-water or good French brandy : to her it was 
 a pledge to Francois, and that was all. 
 
 " And now, madame," pursued the abb, receiving 
 back the cup with a smile, " I recommend that you 
 take off and put away this beautiful dress, and, after 
 hiding all signs of unusual confusion, get a little sleep
 
 208 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 before the day breaks. I shall do so, for it will be 
 many a night before we shall sleep so securely again." 
 
 "The advice is good, sir. Good-night." 
 
 And Mary went into her own room, where the 
 dying fire still shed a warm and dusky glow, fastened 
 the door, and drew aside the window-curtain. The 
 intense, brooding darkness of the hour before dawn 
 was over all the earth ; but beneath it the snow shot 
 up a sullen and sepulchral gleam, as in the darkened 
 chamber of death the shrouded form in its cold white 
 vestments cannot be hid. 
 
 Mary shuddered, and dropped the curtain, then fell 
 upon her knees whispering, 
 
 " Eye of man can see him not ; but thou, O God, 
 thou to whom the night is as the noonday, oh, watch 
 him and keep him and save him, and bring him back 
 tome!"
 
 THE MAIL-BAG OF THE "CIRCE." 2OQ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE MAIL-BAG OF THE " CIRCE." 
 
 "TV TEWS, news, cher docteur!" exclaimed a gay 
 j. \| young officer of artillery, looking in at the open 
 door of a little barrack-chamber wherein the regiment- 
 al surgeon sat reading and smoking. 
 
 " And what news, mon capitan ? " asked he a 
 little languidly. " Have the Hurons captured a part} 
 of Iroquois? or is it the Iroquois who have annoyed 
 the Hurons this time ? or " 
 
 " Nothing of the sort ; but news that may take us 
 all back to la belle France, leaving the savages to fight 
 out their own squabbles, and murder these Jesuit 
 fathers, who hunger so furiously after martyrdom, at 
 their leisure. A brigantine from home, just anchor- 
 ing below the citadel ; and here comes the chaplain to 
 confirm my report." 
 
 "What ! You have already heard the blessed ne\*s 
 of peace, Capt. Reynier?" asked a mellow voice a 
 the chaplain entered the room. 
 
 "What, peace! Is it true, then? Has the mail 
 come ashore?" And, without waiting for reply, the 
 young man dashed out of the room and down the 
 stairs. 
 
 "News of eace, eh?" asked Dr. LeBaron stiD
 
 2IO A NAMELESS NOBLEMAtf. 
 
 languidly, still indifferently, as Pere Vincent closed the 
 door, and came to seat himself beside his friend. 
 
 " Yes, doctor, and other news also," replied the priest 
 in a voice of suppressed emotion. " I have a letter." 
 
 "A letter! But how did any one know of your 
 whereabouts or your identity?" asked the doctoi 
 sternly. "That is, any one but your religious supe- 
 riors," added he more gently. " Is the letter from one 
 of your fathers?" 
 
 " No, but still from a priest. You remember Pere 
 Noailles, who went home invalided a few months after 
 our arrival in this place ? " 
 
 "Yes. Surely, Father Vincent, you did not betray 
 our identity to him? " demanded the surgeon angrily. 
 
 " Not at all, my son ; the worthy priest and myself 
 never exchanged six words about you in our lives, or, 
 indeed, many about myself individually. I found him 
 a man of rare discretion and reserve ; and, although 
 we spent many hours in close communion, I do not 
 know at this moment what was his name before enter- 
 ing the church, or his birthplace, or family condition, 
 in fact, no more than he does mine." 
 
 " Well, and he has written to you ? " 
 
 "Yes, a most interesting account of the Oratorian 
 College, and the Lazarist Fathers, who are doing great 
 work in the provincial towns." 
 
 "Ay? Well, that is all good," replied the surgeon 
 politely indifferent. 
 
 "But the good father encloses another letter in 
 which you may take more interest," pursued the priest, 
 taking a folded paper from his pocket. " It is from 
 my sister Clotilde, whom you may remember."
 
 THE MAIL-BAG OF THE "CIRCE." 211 
 
 "But, abb, how could you write to your sister, 
 as I suppose you did, without betraying your where- 
 abouts and mine also?" 
 
 "Very easily, as you shall see : I wrote to my sister, 
 mentioning neither date nor residence. For any thing 
 to be gathered from the letter, the writer may have 
 been resident in Japan or Nova Zembla. This letter 
 1 enclosed in one to my spiritual superior, to whom, 
 you know, as a member of the Society of Jesus, I am 
 obliged to report myself at stated periods, knowledge 
 as impossible to spread beyond its authorized limits as 
 that obtained in the confessional. I asked him to 
 transmit this letter to my sister through a certain 
 priest, her confessor, and to desire him to write at her 
 dictation a reply. This, given by the confessor to 
 his and my superior, would be transmitted to Pere 
 Noailles, and by him enclosed to me. My somewhat 
 complex plan worked as smoothly as most complex 
 matters do when committed to Holy Church for 
 guidance ; and here is Clotilde's letter. Will you 
 look at it?" 
 
 " Thanks ; but you shall tell me any thing in it that 
 especially interests yourself," replied the doctor in a 
 voice full of meaning and warning. 
 
 The priest laid the letter upon the table at his 
 friend's elbow, and rose, saying, 
 
 "You had better read it for yourself, and in soli- 
 tude. We shall meet at supper if not sooner." Then 
 he went out, and the doctor resumed his book and his 
 pipe, reading steadily down one page, turning the leaf 
 and beginning another, with no consciousness of A
 
 212 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 single word or line, while the eyes so steadily fixed 
 upon the printed page were far more conscious of the 
 sidelong reflection upon the retina of that unfolded 
 sheet upon the table than of the object immediately 
 in front of them. Suddenly, with an impatient ges- 
 ture, the surgeon tossed the book upon a bed at the 
 other side of the room, flung the pipe upon the table, 
 and, striding to the window, stood staring down upon 
 the wonderful landscape at his feet, where the blue 
 waters of the St. Charles dance down to lose them- 
 selves in the more turbid flood of the St. Lawrence, 
 and both together flow majestically onward to the sea, 
 laving the broken and picturesque shore, circling 
 around the storied islands, and opening one of the 
 great highways by which first France and then England 
 found their way to the heart of the New World. 
 Magnificent as was the view, even more so then than 
 to-day, and competent as were the educated eyes of 
 the surgeon to read and comprehend its charm, they 
 roved over it now as blankly as they had over the 
 printed page of one of his most-valued medical 
 treatises ; even the sea-worn and battered brigantine, 
 anchored almost at his feet as it looked, her decks 
 and rigging swarming with men, while a whole fleet of 
 Indian canoes plied back and forth between her side 
 and the pebbly shore, lay unseen before the eyes whose 
 blank gaze rested only upon a simulacre of the table 
 behind him, with that open letter lying in the middle. 
 But, as the stern gaze never faltered, this homely 
 vision slowly faded away, and clear in the summer air 
 rose another, wavering and hovering between the gazei
 
 THE MAIL-BAG OF THE " VIRCE." 2 13 
 
 and the undulating tops of the evergreen forest across 
 the river, whither now his eyes were directed, the 
 fair vision of a stately chateau, gray with ancestral 
 honor and glory, with a garden at its feet where color 
 and perfume and warmth and delight mingled in one 
 sensuous dream of beauty and enjoyment, and, in the 
 midst of a drooping tree, a form 
 
 The doctor turned, muttering a savage malediction 
 upon his own folly, and snatching up the letter de- 
 voured its contents with hungry eyes : nothing there 
 written could be so dangerous as the imaginations it 
 suggested unread. 
 
 The first part was simple and quieting as need be ; 
 mere homely details of Clotilde's own experiences, 
 how she had married, and been a mother, and now the 
 child and the husband both were dead ; and she, liv- 
 ing with her married brother for a while, but meaning 
 to go to service again so soon as madame should come 
 back from Paris and take her ; and then with all the 
 rambling inconsequence of an illiterate writer followed 
 these passages : 
 
 " But you did not know that before I was married 
 I was at the Chateau de Montarnaud for a while aftei 
 the old count was dead, and Count Gaston de Mont- 
 arnaud came to the property, and took possession; 
 and when he went away he would not take madame to 
 Paris ; they said, because she flirted so with the great 
 lords there, but at all events he left her. And the 
 housekeeper recommended me to mend the countess's 
 laces, for you know the nuns taught me to do it beau- 
 tifully, and so I went ; and when she knew I was youi
 
 214 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 sister, she made me sit always in her bedchamber, and 
 talked with me hours at a time. She tried so hard to 
 make me tell where you were, that, if I had known, 
 she would surely have got it from me ; but I only 
 could say how you wished so much to go to see our 
 Saviour's tomb at Jerusalem, and I thought you 
 might be in some monastery there. But she said, in 
 an angry sort of way, she did not believe it ; and then 
 she asked, did any one go with you? but how could I 
 tell when I did not know? So day after day we 
 talked : and, brother, I can tell you what I fancy you 
 want to know, though you did not exactly ask ; but it 
 is quite true that Madame la Comtesse would rather 
 be Madame la Baronne even to-day. I would not 
 say it if the count were still alive ; but, now that he is 
 nicely killed by the gentleman whose wife he carried 
 away, it is no harm. And if you know where our dear 
 maste* the baron is, I wish you would tell him he has 
 only to come home and marry her, and be Comte de 
 Montarnaud, unless the little Mademoiselle The>6se 
 is her father's heiress (I do not know, and Father 
 Jacques says he does not, how that would be) ; but at 
 any rate, when I saw the countess, not two months 
 ago, oniy a few weeks after the count's death, she 
 asked me, with her handsome face all flushed and 
 bright as a young girl's, if I had not yet heard one 
 word from my brother; and I know what I know. 
 Yes, yes, brother ! I know full well that she has never 
 ceased to love him ; and now she is free, and hand- 
 somer than ever, and rich, and a morsel for the dain- 
 tiest master. And she promised that when she came
 
 THE MAIL-BAG OF THE "CIRCE." 215 
 
 back from Paris, whither she must go to settle the 
 count's affairs, I should come and live with her again, 
 and be gouvernante to Mademoiselle Theiese, who is 
 four months old, poor little darling." 
 
 And then Madame Clotilde's letter wandered off 
 again into personal details ; and, having read it to the 
 end, the doctor slowly folded it, laid it upon the table, 
 and stood looking gloomily down upon it. 
 
 " Say, Victor, what is the name of the brigantine ? " 
 asked a merry soldier voice below the window. And 
 another replied with a laugh, 
 
 " ' CirceV She comes to tempt us all to desert this 
 barbarous solitude, and get a passage back to France ; 
 don't you see ? " 
 
 " The ' Circe 1 ,' " echoed Dr. LeBaron, with a cynical 
 smile. "Yes; but only fools believed in Circe twice." 
 
 At the mess supper-table the doctor and the chap- 
 kin met again ; and, when the meal was finished, the 
 priest followed his friend from the room and up to his 
 own quarters. As he opened the door, the latter 
 turned, and quietly said, 
 
 "Will you come in, and take your letter, abb? " 
 
 The abb silently complied, took the letter, and 
 without glancing at it, or asking if it had been read, 
 put it in the pocket of his soutane, and said, 
 
 " I have not quite emptied my budget of news yet, 
 my friend." 
 
 "No? What remains?" 
 
 " I am going home. I am recalled by my superior 
 Will you go with me? " 
 
 "What, to France?"
 
 2l6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "Yes : why not? Your father and your brother are 
 dead : if Gaston's child dies, you are the heir of your 
 father's estates, as well as your mother's, for such were 
 the terms of her marriage settlements. You have worn 
 out by time and travel all bitterness or pain of asso- 
 ciation, and may settle peacefully down, either beneath 
 your vine and fig-tree at Montarnaud, or the apple and 
 pear trees of Normandy, to live out your life in your 
 own country, and among your own people ; for you are, 
 after all, a Frenchman, and nothing can deprive you 
 of that proud inheritance." 
 
 Wily abbe" ! He never alluded to the widowed and 
 regretful Valerie ; for he was sure that the letter had 
 done its work, without need of further help. 
 
 The doctor, striding up and down the narrow cham- 
 ber, listened attentively to the end, and, as the abbe's 
 voice died away, stood with his back toward the room, 
 staring blankly out of the open window at the starless 
 sky and unseen shore. Suddenly he turned, and, 
 without approaching the other, said slowly and dis- 
 tinctly, 
 
 " I do not think my wife wishes to live in France " 
 
 " Your wife ? Mademoiselle Marie Wilder ? " 
 
 " No, Madame LeBaron, as she herself named hei 
 future husband." 
 
 "My dear baron, I have got one more piece of 
 news for you, news which has waited two good years, 
 and to-night is to be produced." 
 
 "It seems a day of revelation, man abbe; but I do 
 not think your last news will stir me more than the 
 first. What is it?"
 
 THE MAIL-BAG OF THE "CIRCE? 2 1/ 
 
 Father Vincent rose from the chair where he had 
 thrown himself, and, approaching his friend, laid a hand 
 upon his arm, and looked earnestly into his face. It 
 was grave, attentive, and expectant, bat not so agi- 
 tated as the priest would have had it He was a 
 skilful musician, but the instrument did not respond as 
 he had hoped. 
 
 " My son, you were but a child when your father 
 placed you in my charge ; and since that day your 
 welfare and improvement have been, after my voca- 
 tion, my dearest care." 
 
 " I believe it, num pert, and have been always, as 
 now, grateful and reliant." 
 
 " I am now to tell you of a step I took for your 
 sake against your own pleasure, and perhaps against 
 my duty. At any rate, I am led to expect that my 
 recall is due to the confession of this step, which I 
 made by letter to my superior ; and I may have severe 
 penance to undergo on my arrival with him. Mean- 
 time you win perhaps be angry ; and yet you win see 
 upon reflection that I sacrificed myself for you, since I 
 knew at the time that I was liable, both to your anger, 
 and to ecclesiastical censure for my act, and yet " 
 
 * For Heaven's sake, abb, have it out, and let die 
 explanation come after the matter to be explained! 
 What have you done?" 
 
 "Rather, what did I leave undone, my son! I wffl 
 tell you in one word. I did not actually many you to 
 the girl whom I bat now styled with intention Made- 
 moiselle Mary Wilder. The words you repeated after 
 me were no more than those of solemn troth-plight,
 
 2l8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 and those which I muttered afterward were but one cf 
 the penitential psalms. I knew that you were to leave 
 her immediately ; I knew how unlikely it was that you 
 would ever return ; I had seen you in love, more or 
 less, three or four times already ; I knew that, if you 
 ever should return, it would be so easy to complete 
 the ceremony I had begun, or to procure dispensation 
 for you from the vows of betrothal you had assumed ; 
 and I deceived you for your own good, mon baron, 
 for your own good. You have done no wrong to any 
 one ; and you stand there at this moment a free man, 
 free to return to your estates, to your home, and 
 to any wife you may choose to wed. No law of 
 God or man forbids." 
 
 "No law except one you do not comprehend, as 
 it seems, my poor little abb6 ; and no wonder, since 
 probably it was not taught in your father's shop. I 
 mean the law of honor." 
 
 And, with a look of withering scorn, the doctor was 
 striding from the room, when the priest seized him by 
 the arm, and said in a broken voice, " No, no, mon 
 baron : you shall not go until you forgive me. It was 
 for love of you, in your interests, I did it. What other 
 motive could I have? It seemed so unlikely you 
 should be desirous, even if you were able, to consum- 
 mate so unsuitable an alliance, after years of absence 
 had destroyed the romantic illusions under which you 
 then acted. It seemed so possible that just what has 
 now happened should happen : that you should be- 
 come heir to the estates, and return to possess them ; 
 and what could you do with a low-born rustic for your 
 wife?"
 
 THE MAIL-BAG OF THE " CIKC." 2l<) 
 
 " Enough, enough, abbe 1 ! Let go my arm. Nay, 
 then, here's my hand, old friend. I do believe thou 
 didst it for my good ; but it was a terrible mistake, 
 and one that cannot be too soon rectified. Still, I 
 was wrong to throw thine honest father's shop in thy 
 teeth, and I crave forgiveness for the ungentle taunt. 
 But for the rest, first move the rocks on which this 
 fortress stands, and then try again, if you will, on my 
 determination : it is the firmer of the two. Shame 
 on me to confess it, there was a moment when the 
 Devil tugged hard at my soul, and filled it with sights 
 and sounds and memories of long ago, memories so 
 alluring, that, man-like, I half regretted that I was fast 
 bound to another life. But I never once dreamed of 
 the dastard course you would have had me pursue 
 but there, then, I will not be angry. Our ideas differ 
 in such matters, man pert, differ from the cradle. 
 You are a priest; and it is one of your mottoes, I 
 believe, you Jesuits, that the end justifies the means : 
 but we others, you know, we, too, have our watchword 
 of ' Noblesse oblige ; ' and my mother taught me those 
 words, and somewhat of their meaning, as soon as I 
 could speak. We both must live after our traditions, 
 mon pere ; but I forgive you heartily, and crave your 
 forgiveness, and only trust your superior may not be 
 too hard upon the irregularity, as we must call it." 
 
 " I don't know," muttered the abb ruefully, as the 
 doctor in his white heat of excitement walked to the 
 window, and leaned out for a moment into the cool 
 darkness of the night. "To be sure, there was no 
 mass : it cannot be called a sacrilege ; but the supe- 
 rior is very severe, and it was irregular."
 
 22O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAW. 
 
 "And now," resumed the baron, returning, "my 
 next step is to get my discharge ; since peace is de- 
 clared, that can be no difficult matter : and then 
 southward, so fast as horseflesh will carry me, to claim 
 my wife ; for wife she is in the eye of God already, 
 and shall be so in the eye of man so soon as she may 
 be made so." 
 
 " You will find no priest there ; and a marriage by 
 one of those snuffling Huguenot ministers is no mar- 
 riage," said the abbe' half triumphantly. 
 
 " Then it will be a civil ceremony before a magis- 
 trate," replied Francois coldly ; " and perhaps that is 
 better, for I hold that the religious service has been 
 already performed sufficiently to satisfy all require- 
 ments. God is true, although His priests may palter 
 with his truth. And I doubt not the honest intention 
 of the two who thought themselves wed that night is 
 stronger in His eyes, than the deceitful informality of 
 the ceremony." 
 
 " You are very severe, mon baron." 
 
 " I am afraid it is my nature, mon pere. Yet here 
 is my hand again, and we part firm friends." 
 
 " But I must return to France all alone ; and, when 
 I left it, I swore never to part from you if I could help 
 it," said the priest mournfully. 
 
 " Yes ; but now you cannot help it, nor can I," re- 
 plied the baron steadfastly, and left the room.
 
 THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 
 
 TT was toward sunset of a lovely day in June that a 
 J. stranger rode slowly into the town of Plymouth, 
 old Plymouth, Plymouth of the Pilgrims. 
 
 Do you know the Plymouth of to-day, the quiet, 
 sleepy little town, with its few drowsy lions, and its 
 little store of relics? and have you, you who have 
 either risen above the pride of ancestry, or claim some 
 other lineage than that of Mayflower Pilgrims, have 
 you made the little round of these, and gone away 
 wondering why you ever came hither, and what any- 
 body finds in Plymouth to draw them there year after 
 year ; and why her children, wheresoever they may 
 wander, turn so eagerly back, in body may be, at any 
 rate in heart, to the old Rock, as year by year the 
 22d of December comes round, and they say to each 
 other with shining eyes, 
 
 " It is Forefathers' Day in dear old Plymouth." 
 Have you wondered why it should be thus ? and do 
 you still wonder? Well, I cannot tell you; but the 
 gray old sphinx of a town knows the answer to that 
 riddle, and several others, and tells them, too, to him 
 who has ears and heart to listen, and eyes wherewith 
 to see the sights she will show in the dim twilight on
 
 222 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Burying Hill ; or when the moon throws strange shad- 
 ows upon the midnight streets ; or when at high tide, 
 the gray fog shutting off all else, one hears the lap- 
 ping of the waves upon the beach, and remembers 
 with a thrill of awe that sea and sky and fog and 
 sandy beach are unchanged and unchangeable for 
 all the changes of two hundred and fifty years. 
 
 Oh ! to a child of the Pilgrims, with their blood 
 warm at his heart, their names his proudest boast, 
 their calm strength and unconscious grandeur of life 
 his greatest ensample among mortal men, to such an 
 one the genius of the old town is neither silent nor 
 chary of her gifts ; for him in those still hours she 
 recalls the noble forms of Bradford, and Carver, and 
 Standish, consulting with the venerable Brewster, as 
 they stroll along the shore, how food shall be pro- 
 cured for the well-nigh starving community, how the 
 savage foe shall best be conquered into a friend, and 
 the faithless friends in England be made to fulfil their 
 compact ; or again she shows the same men, leaders, 
 gentlemen, and scholars though they were, toiling up 
 the steep ascent of Leyden Street, bearing their bur- 
 dens with the rest from the seashore to the common- 
 house whose site is still lovingly remembered ; or, going 
 a little farther back, she shows the desecrated Rock 
 restored to its lonely dignity, and beside it the clumsy 
 boat of " The Mayflower " whence the Pilgrims step 
 with solemn thanksgiving upon this the threshold of 
 their new home, whose magnificence they do not yet 
 suspect. And not the men alone : for beside the stately 
 and elegant Carver, already governor of the colony,
 
 THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 22$ 
 
 stands Katharine his fair dame; and Standish leads 
 his Rose, and Priscilla Mullins makes way for the 
 young matron, little guessing how soon that place 
 might be her own ; and John Alden gazes at Priscilla, 
 and thinks how fair she is ; and Warren and Winslow 
 and Rowland are there, and Elder Brewster's fail 
 daughters, Love and Ruth, and many another maid 
 soon to be a wife. And then, as the scene changes, 
 one sees the stern, rough soldier Standish, and Bradford 
 the statesman and scholar, and Carver the aristocrat, 
 attending the sick smitten down by the pestilence of 
 that first winter, nursing them with the patient tender- 
 ness of women and the strength of men, until they 
 had buried more than half of their company upon the 
 hill beside the shore ; planting their graves with wheat, 
 that the Indians might not see how many there were. 
 I wonder, when they eat bread of that grain, if they did 
 not remember, " Except a corn of wheat fall into the 
 ground, and perish, it bringeth forth no fruit." 
 
 Well, one must linger no longer, but, passing on 
 some threescore years, come to the Bunch of Grapes. 
 It was the tavern of Plymouth then, and for a century 
 later, a long, low-browed building, the upper story 
 overhanging the lower by a foot or so, with a great 
 carved and gilded bunch of grapes hanging from each 
 corner of the projecting story. A quaint old house, 
 and with plenty of stories of its own which we may 
 some day rehearse together ; but just now we must be 
 steadfast to the summer evening when LeBaron rode 
 up to the door, and sat waiting for some one to take 
 his horse, and bid him welcome. But a moment'8
 
 224 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 observation showed that all was not well with the 
 Bunch of Grapes and its inmates. The latticed win- 
 dows all swung wide to the sweet summer, and the 
 doors stood hospitably open : but neither rosy land- 
 lord, nor buxom landlady, nor smiling waiter appeared 
 to welcome the guest ; and the two or three old topers 
 seated upon the bench beside the door seemed too 
 much absorbed in some wonder-fraught gossip to do 
 more than casually stare at him, and then back to 
 their whispered dialogue. Glancing impatiently at 
 them, the doctor threw himself from his horse, and 
 rapped sharply with his whip-handle upon a panel of 
 the stout oaken-door ; but, as if this had been the sig- 
 nal for some dire catastrophe, a dismal shriek re- 
 sounded through the upper chambers, followed by 
 such a rapid succession of shrill screams, cries articu- 
 late and inarticulate, sobs, and peals of maniacal laugh- 
 ter, that the listeners gasped for breath, and turned 
 pale even to their gorgeous noses. 
 
 "Why, what is this? What is doing here?" de- 
 manded Dr. LeBaron, seizing by the arm a trembling 
 lad in a white apron who now appeared at the door of 
 one of the lower apartments. 
 
 "I I don't know, sir; but I guess it's missus," 
 replied the lad, bursting into blubbering sobs, and 
 rapidly withdrawing to the seclusion of the bar. 
 
 "What is the matter up there?" repeated the 
 doctor in his most peremptory tones, as he strode to 
 the outer door, and collared a* man who stood peeping 
 fearfully in. 
 
 "Why, you see, sir," returned this individual, gently
 
 THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 22$ 
 
 from the inconvenient grasp, and settling his 
 b?ck-gear as he spoke, " Dame Tilley has got to have 
 her leg cut off; and, poor soul, she takes it to heart a 
 bit." 
 
 " Oho, that's it ! " exclaimed the surgeon, his curi- 
 osity rapidly changing to professional interest. " Aud 
 why must the good woman lose her leg? " 
 
 "All along of a bad knee that the doctors can't 
 cure, sir; and they be afraid it will spread, I believe." 
 
 " What, the knee spread ? Surely, that were a novel 
 mischance ! " exclaimed the doctor, smiling. "And so 
 the amputation is now in progress? " 
 
 " Anan." 
 
 "They are cutting off the leg just now? " 
 
 " Why, the doctors be up there ; but I guess they 
 haven't buckled to't yet. There's not been time." 
 
 "Who are the doctors?" 
 
 " There's Pilsbury from New Bedford, he's the main 
 one; but old Dr. Coffin from Sandwich, and Hallo- 
 well, our own doctor such as he is, they're up there 
 helping. Lord ! how she do screech ! I'll lay they're 
 a-cutting into her now." 
 
 " She's in an hysteric fit. They won't handle her 
 that way," muttered the doctor uneasily; and then, 
 opening the door of the bar-room, he peremptorily 
 beckoned forth the tapster, who was solacing his grief 
 by a tankard of small beer. 
 
 " Here, Jacques, come here and get this shilling for 
 yourself," ordered he ; and Jacques, whose name was 
 Zebedee, came at once, a subdued grin struggling 
 oddly with fright, terror, and beer, upon his counte- 
 nance.
 
 226 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Now go up-stairs as fast as you can, and tell your 
 master that a surgeon of the army is here, who would 
 like to help at the operation if he will permit, and ask 
 him to beg permission of the worthy surgeons already 
 on the field." 
 
 "Yes, sir." And Zebedee, spurred to intelligence 
 as well as haste by the shilling already in hand and 
 the hope of more to come, did his errand so well that 
 in about two minutes he returned with the landlord a: 
 his heels, his honest face pale and troubled, and his 
 voice broken with emotion through the professional 
 cordiality it mechanically assumed in greeting a guest 
 of evident social consequence. 
 
 "Zeb told mo you were an army-doctor, sir, and 
 had kindly offered to " 
 
 " Yes, yes, my good friend : it is hard for you, but 
 these things can be made less painful sometimes by 
 dexterity and practice. Perhaps I may be of some 
 use ; as I have, I suppose, amputated hundreds of limbs 
 where a country practitioner has one. Bring me up, 
 if these gentleman consent." 
 
 " Lord ! yes, sir ; and, if they didn't, I'd rather put 
 my poor woman into your hands alone, than theirs ; 
 for Dr. Pilsbury he's old and fumbling, and so's 
 Coffin ; and Hallowell knows more of cows and horses 
 than of humans. This way, sir." 
 
 He opened the door of the large front room, where, 
 upon a bed drawn into the middle of the floor, lay the 
 unfortunate woman, her face flushed and swollen, her 
 long bkck hair floating wildly, her hands clenched, 
 and her eytj roving from face to face of those crowd-
 
 THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 22? 
 
 ing around her bed, more with the hunted and fero- 
 cious look of a wild animal at bay than of a suffering 
 patient in the hands of physicians whom she trusts tc 
 relieve and save her, even through the agency of 
 sharpest pain. 
 
 Consulting together in whispers around the table, 
 where some surgical instruments were boldly displayed, 
 stood the three doctors, two of them the red-faced, 
 gray-iiaired, hard, and well-grooved country practi- 
 tioner, who, after a youth of bewildered experiment 
 and doubt, has in middle or later life settled upon a 
 narrow round of treatment and drugs, and adapts all 
 cures to them. The third, a younger man, who, with- 
 out making pretence to a diploma or an education, 
 did what he could, and as he could, to relieve the 
 ailments of his townsmen and their cattle, stood 
 listening deferentially to the opinions of his superiors, 
 offering an occasional hesitating remark, to which the 
 magnates scarcely paid any attention. A mob of 
 women servants and neighbors, the mother of the 
 sick woman, and her sister with a baby in her arms 
 filled the room, and surrounded the bed, almost to the 
 exclusion of the air for which the poor fevered crea- 
 ture was panting. 
 
 "If it was a dumb creetur, now," Hallowell was 
 saying as the landlord re-entered the room, " I should 
 say there wa'n't no need of cutting on't off at all. 
 Squire Watson's cow had a bad leg last winter, and I 
 doctored it, and cured it, and she's a well cow to-day ; 
 but then " 
 
 " But then, you must remember, Master Hallowell,
 
 228 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 that it's not a cow we are talking of, but a human," 
 interposed Dr. Pilsbury with some acrimony; "and 
 one kind of treatment won't answer for both. What 
 I say is, that woman's leg is to come off: and, if she 
 won't consent, we'll just strap her down, and take it 
 off without her consent; and that quickly, for the 
 Bight's going, and my eyes are not what they used to 
 be." 
 
 " Good-evening, gentlemen. Will you allow me to 
 look at your patient, and add my poor experience to 
 yours in conducting the operation ? " 
 
 At sound! of this calm, harmonious, and cultivated 
 voice, the somewhat heated and excited practitioners 
 turned, and surveyed the new-comer with surprise and 
 a little professional jealousy. 
 
 "Good-evening, sir," said Dr. Pilsbury at length. 
 " You are an army surgeon, landlord Tilley says." 
 
 " Yes, of the royal army, and naturally of some 
 little experience," replied the new-comer ; and then, 
 without waiting until his rival should gather self-pos- 
 session to inquire, "Under which king, Bezonian?" 
 he approached the bed, and courteously waving aside 
 the throng of women, and murmuring to the patient, 
 " Permit me, madam ! " he deftly turned aside the 
 clothes, and examined the suffering member, whose 
 wrappings had already been removed in preparation 
 for amputation. 
 
 The three practitioners drew near, and looked on 
 with jealous attention; and the sick woman, calmed 
 and comforted, she knew not how, by the look of that 
 powerful and assured face, and the touch of hands
 
 THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 22Q 
 
 fine as a woman's, and strong as a ploughman's, said, 
 with a long, quivering sigh, 
 
 " O doctor, if you could only save it to me ! I'm 
 but a young woman, and a stirring one ; and if so be 
 I've got to die, I'll die : but I won't live a cripple, to 
 hobble round on crutches like an old granny ; I won't, 
 I won't, I won't ! " 
 
 Her voice rose to an hysterical shriek, and her 
 clenched hands beat furiously upon the counterpane. 
 
 " She's going off again ! " cried one woman, and, 
 
 " Now, Betty, Betty, don't 'ee, don't 'ee, that's a good 
 lass ! " added another ; and the mother, asserting her 
 privilege, elbowed her way to the front, sharply ex- 
 claiming, 
 
 "Now, Betty Tilley, be done with that, if thou 
 knows what's good for thyself! Come, then, ar'n't 
 you ashamed to be such a baby, and these good folk 
 all here to see thee have thy leg off like a brave 
 woman, and " 
 
 " Nay, then, mother-in-law," broke in the landlord : 
 " sure it is no time to be flouting at the poor thing, 
 and scolding never comforted a sick woman yet." 
 
 The mother-in-law replied, the other women cho- 
 rused, the baby began to scream, and the patient to 
 cry hysterically, and toss herself about in the bed sob- 
 bing, " I won't, then, I won't, I won't : I tell ye all 
 there'll be no show, for I won't have it off." 
 
 LeBaron looked at Dr. Pilsbury, and saw that he 
 had lost his head, and knew not what course to pur- 
 sue ; at Dr. Coffin, who feebly followed the example 
 of his superior ; and at Mr. Hallowell, who, abashed by
 
 230 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Pilsbury's reproof, no longer ventured to hold any 
 opinion at all. In this emergency he seized the 
 landlord by the arm, and drew him out of the en- 
 counter, where he was rapidly getting worsted by the 
 nimble tongues of his opponents, and sternly de- 
 manded of him, 
 
 "Do you know that all this is killing your wife?" 
 "Ay, but what's to be done, sir? You see " 
 "Turn every human creature out of the room 
 except those three doctors, and keep the house 
 quiet." 
 
 "That I'll do, if you'll stand by, and see that they 
 don't hack and hew at my poor lass while I'm away, 
 and she screeching that they sha'n't." 
 
 "No one shall touch her to-night, at least, I'll 
 promise you that. Come, now, out with every one of 
 them, in the twinkle of an eye ! " 
 
 Then, leaving this somewhat difficult task in the 
 willing hands of the landlord, the surgeon returned to 
 the side of the raving woman, and, taking both her 
 hands in his, sat down on the edge of the bed, and 
 said, in a calmly assured voice, 
 
 "Now you are to be quiet, dame, do you hear?" 
 Gradually, beneath that firm grasp and firmer eye, 
 the contortions of body and frenzy of mind subsided 
 into languid moaning and tears ; and then the doctor, 
 gently smoothing the hair from the poor corrugated 
 brow and hot cheeks, said gently, 
 
 " Nothing is to be done to-night but to rest and 
 refresh yourself, dame. Will you be good, and try to 
 sleep?"
 
 THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 2$\ 
 
 " And know my leg is to be cut off in the morn- 
 lug?" whimpered the woman. "If you would say 
 that it could be cured, I'd sleep gay and well." 
 
 " Come, then, now that you are quiet, and the room 
 is still, I shall look at it once more, and we shall see 
 what we shall see, madam." 
 
 Once more he examined the limb minutely, re- 
 peatedly, thoroughly yet gently, and then, laying the 
 clcthes over it, turned, and beckoned his colleagues 
 to follow him from the room. Outside the door they 
 found the landlord standing sentry, with a stout staff 
 in his hand. 
 
 " I said I'd crack the head of the first one that 
 came up those stairs without leave, doctor ; and I'll do 
 it too," exclaimed he valiantly, and addressing the 
 latest comer as the acknowledged head of the consul- 
 tation. 
 
 "And you did well, my friend," replied LeBaron 
 gravely. " Now go in there, and speak calmly and 
 gently to your wife, but talk as little as may be. I 
 will see that no one comes up stairs." 
 
 Then leading his companions a little farther from 
 the door, he turned ; and, laying a finger lightly and 
 impressively upon Dr. Pilsbury's breast, he said, 
 
 "That leg can be saved. It must not be am- 
 putated." 
 
 " Nonsense, man ! " blustered the old doctor. " The 
 woman will die if the leg don't come off. It shall 
 come off ! " 
 
 "It shall not come off, if the landlord takes my 
 advice, and I think he will," replied LeBaron firmly.
 
 232 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "Very well," exclaimed Pilsbury : "I throw up the 
 case." 
 
 " And I take it," calmly returned LeBaron.
 
 DAME TfLLEY'S LEG. 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 DAME TELLEV'S LEG. 
 
 THEY want you out there, Tilley," whispered 
 Mr. Hallowell in the landlord's ear ; and leav- 
 ing the subdued and silent vet. beside his wife's bed, 
 the landlord went into the passage, and, was con- 
 fronted by the red and furious face of Dr. Pilsbury, 
 who exclaimed in a voice thick with anger, 
 
 " Look at here, Tilley ! are you going to let this 
 man, a stranger, and nobody knows who, take charge 
 of your wife ? or am I to do so ? We can't both ; and 
 if he stays, I go, that's all." 
 
 " The fact is here, my good friend," interposed the 
 cool voice of the other, before poor John Tilley could 
 stammer out any reply at all : " this gentleman is sure 
 that it is necessary to cut off your wife's leg to save 
 her life ; I am equally sure that it is not, and that I 
 can, if not interfered with,, save both leg and life. 
 Shall I try?" 
 
 " I'm sure, gentlemen, I'm sure you're very good, 
 both of you ; and I am loath indeed to offend Dr. Pils- 
 bury, that every one calls such a fine doctor ; but poor 
 Betty, she's so set against losing the leg, and if this 
 gentleman is dead-sure he can cure it, and is an army 
 surgeon, and used to these things "
 
 234 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Oh, I see, I see, goodman ! " interrupted Pilsbury, 
 pushing rudely past LeBaron, who retreated with a 
 courteous bow : " you'd rather have this fellow, whose 
 name even you don't know, and so save my fee ; for I 
 suppose he'll take his pay in beer " 
 
 "One moment, if you please, my dear doctor," 
 interposed LeBaron quietly : " professional brothers 
 should never forget the courtesies of their cliqne. Al- 
 low me to offer my card. If you care to glance at it, 
 I should be glad to show you my diploma, ani com- 
 mission as surgeon in the French army." 
 
 " Oh, a Frenchman ! " exclaimed both the doctor 
 and the publican in a breath. The surgeon gravely 
 bowed. 
 
 " Yes, gentleman, a Frenchman." 
 
 " Well, Tilley, if you're going to give ovi r your 
 wife to be murdered by a French quack, you re not 
 the man I take you for," said Pilsbury, puttrng his 
 nose in the air so as to bring his spectacles tn bear 
 upon the card in his hand. 
 
 Goodman Tilley looked bewildered; and glanced 
 first at the irate yet triumphant face of the long-known 
 and venerated Pilsbury, then at the calm, handsome, 
 and slightly sneering one of the stranger and the 
 Frenchman. At last he said in a hesitating and reluc- 
 tant voice, 
 
 " Well, Dr. Pilsbury, I suppose I'll have to ask you 
 to no, dang it all, I won't neither! I like this 
 man's looks, and I believe he knows what he says, 
 and can do what he promises : and as for Frenchmen, 
 why, it's peace now 'twixt us and them; and if it
 
 DAME TILLEY'S LEG. 2$$ 
 
 wa'n't, and if he was the very Old Fellow himself, 
 horns and hoofs and all, and could save Betty's leg 
 I'd let him, so be he didn't meddle with ner soul." 
 
 " Well, I can promise so much," replied LeBaron, 
 heartily grasping the hand of the honest landlord laid 
 in his ; " and I will undertake the case in the interests 
 of humanity, if you will agree on your side, that I shall 
 pay my reckoning at this inn like any other guest, 
 and shall receive no fee, but that this gentleman and 
 the others shall be paid whatever has been promised 
 for their services." 
 
 " Why, that's handsome, and more than they could 
 ask," replied Tilley in a tone of evident relief. "And 
 if you'll go in and speak to Betty, sir, I'll follow the 
 doctor, and give him a good glass of strong waters 
 before he starts, and talk him round a bit. As for old 
 Coffin, it don't matter ; and our own man, Hallowell, 
 isn't of much account anyway." 
 
 The landlord hurried away; and Dr. LeBaron re- 
 turned to the bed-chamber, where he found the veteri- 
 nary examining the limb, and the patient regarding 
 him with suspicious and uneasy glances. 
 
 " If you please, doctor," said the new-comer very 
 courteousl/, taking the bed-covering from the other's 
 hand, and drawing it over the limb, " the case has, I 
 believe, been confided to my charge, and I will attend 
 to it." 
 
 " Oh ! certain, certain, doctor," replied the vet. obse- 
 quiously ; " and if, as I gether, you think it can be cured 
 instead of cut off, why, I'm of your opinion too, and 
 wanted to say so ; only they wouldn't hearken to me,
 
 236 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 being an onlarned man, but with a good nateral gift 
 for physic and such matters." 
 
 " I shall be glad to speak with you to-morrow morn- 
 ing, at eight o'clock, if you will do me the honor to 
 call," replied the Frenchman with exquisite urbanity. 
 " But just now my only object is to quiet my patient, 
 and give her a good night's rest." And, hardly know- 
 ing how or why, the worthy vet. found himself going 
 down stairs with two vague impressions struggling in 
 his mind, one, that the new doctor was a very skilful 
 and also agreeable man ; the other, that he should have 
 liked to stay longer in his society, and wondered why 
 he did not. 
 
 Presenting himself next morning at the appointed 
 hour, Master Hallowell found himself courteously re- 
 ceived by the new doctor, and called not so much to a 
 consultation, as a clinical lecture at Dame Tilley'a 
 bedside, where he received in a scant half-hour more 
 instruction on the subject of the knee-joint and its 
 peculiar temptations to disease, than he ever had 
 gathered in his life before. 
 
 " And there will be no need of amputation ? " asked 
 he timidly, as the two retired from the sick-room. 
 
 " Amputation ! " exclaimed Dr. LeBaron contemptu- 
 ously. " It should never have been mentioned in the 
 case. The clown cuts dr-^. the cankered tree: die 
 gardener cures it, and eajoys the fruit"
 
 THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 
 
 DEBORAH WILDER never quite recovered from 
 the rheumatic fever in whose grasp we left her, 
 but rose from her bed a decrepit and feeble imitation 
 of the tireless and restless woman who had lain down 
 upon it. All the rest of the winter and spring she led 
 a mummy-like existence, swathed in red flannels, 
 night-caps, and felt slippers, and hovering over the 
 fire, while everybody else was panting for a breath of 
 fresh air; and although in the heats of summer the 
 foe released his hold for a little while, and the poor 
 victim tried to stir about the house and resume her 
 manifold duties, it was soon evident that both strength 
 and ability were gone for a while, if not forever, while 
 the power of fault-finding and dictation flourished 
 more vigorously than ever upon the ruins. Strong 
 and brave and sweet as was her daughter's nature, 
 the year succeeding her mother's illness tried it to the 
 utmost, and might have broken it down at last but for 
 the occasional half-hour by day or night when the 
 girl stole away to sit in her little hidden priest's 
 chamber, and dream over every word that had been 
 spoken there, every look and caress that faithful 
 memon reproduced, and to dwell upon the sweet
 
 238 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 vague hopes of the future, when Francois was to come 
 to claim her, and she should persuade him to remain 
 at the farm and make all her duties light by advice 
 and sympathy, while he himself should achieve a 
 wonderful reputation by his medical skill, and in time 
 become as famous as Dr. Pilsbury himself. Then she 
 settled how his room should be arranged, and, shyly 
 glancing at the possibility that it might be her room as 
 well, deeply considered the subject of furniture and 
 ornament, and resolved that for the first few months, 
 at any rate, Grandmother Ames's curtains should be 
 applied to their original use ; and, having dressed the 
 bride, should afterward decorate her bridal chamber. 
 
 Then the poor child would take from her bosom 
 the amethyst ring, symbol of her mock-marriage, and 
 kiss it, and admire it, and remember how she first had 
 seen it on the cold wet hand of the half-dead man she 
 had brought across her father's threshold, and nursed 
 back to life and love. 
 
 There had been a crest cut upon the ring ; but by 
 some strange accident, as she imagined, a piece had 
 been chipped from the face of the gem in such a 
 manner as to quite obliterate the device. Nor would 
 Molly have been the wiser had it remained : for her 
 education in the gentle art of heraldry had never been 
 so much as begun ; and sable, argent, gules, and azure, 
 passant, sejant, rampant, and couchant, were words 
 conveying no meaning to her ear. 
 
 But the ring had belonged to Francois ; he had him- 
 self placed it upon her finger, and called l.er wife in 
 doing so; and the Kohinoor itself would not have 
 tempted her to an exchange.
 
 THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DA WN. 239 
 
 So life went on in the farmhouse by the sea, with 
 much hard work, very few enjoyments, no society, a 
 deal of pain and suffering to the mother, and through 
 her to the daughter, until all minor discomforts and 
 annoyances were put to flight by one terrible blow, as 
 the smoking of the kitchen-chimney is forgotten when 
 a thunderbolt tears through the house. 
 
 Soon after noon on a fearfully hot day in July, Hum- 
 phrey Wilder was brought in from the hay-field by four 
 men, speechless, senseless, dying. The sight of him 
 thus, quite upset the poor wife's little remaining strength 
 of mind and body ; and Molly was glad to accept Mrs. 
 Hetherford's offers of counsel and help. The stricken 
 man lingered through that day and night, and in the 
 next night died. Molly never left his side, taking 
 mechanically such food as Mrs. Hetherford brought to 
 her, but neither sleeping nor resting for a moment. 
 
 In the last few hours he recovered consciousness ; 
 and then his daughter, kneeling beside him, said, 
 
 "Father dear, I have somewhat to tell you. Can 
 you listen ? Will it tire you too much ? " 
 
 "Nay, child, speak. Unburden thy conscience 
 while there is yet a little time," whispered the dying 
 man ; and then Molly, in briefest phrases and with no 
 excuses, told the story she should have told upon her 
 wedding-day, but had not, partly from maiden sr.yness, 
 partly from shame at her own duplicity, partly that 
 she thought it would be another burden upon her 
 father's inind. Yet, now that the strange illumination 
 of death shone upon all around her, keen remorse at 
 having even by silence deceived this beloved father
 
 240 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAtf. 
 
 seemed more impossible to bear than even the grief of 
 his departure. 
 
 Wilder listened, his dim eyes fixed upon her own, 
 until the faltering voice ceased in one wild sob, and 
 the petition laid with tears and kisses upon his 
 hand : 
 
 " Oh, forgive me, father 1 Forgive me before you 
 die ! " 
 
 " Nay, child, did you doubt my forgiveness, that you 
 tarried so long to claim it ? " gently chided the father. 
 " I guessed a good deal of this, and many a time I 
 *vould have spoken, for I saw how it fretted thee to 
 deceive thy mother and me; but, shall I tell thee, 
 Molly, although I would never have chidden thee, I 
 thought perhaps 'twas no more than thou didst de- 
 serve to so chide thyself, and I let thee go on for a 
 while. And then, if I knew, I must have told thy 
 mother, for, Molly, I kept no secrets from her; and 
 she might not have been so tender with thee. 
 
 "Yes, child, I partly knew. I saw thee carrying 
 food to the garret, and I heard of the hue and cry 
 after the Frenchman ; and I knew if one were here I 
 ought to give him up, and I shut my eyes. And when 
 that doctor came, -I knew such tow-hair never grew on 
 such a black-a -vised face as his; and I heard two 
 men's voices ir the night ; and that last night, when 
 on stroke of n \dnight you opened your door, and 
 looked out info i>e kitchen, it wakened me, and after 
 a little I got up softly, and peeped through the door, 
 fearing I knew not what, only I never doubted you, 
 Molly, never. And peeping so, like that Tom thej
 
 THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 24! 
 
 Jell of, I saw my maid making herself brave in a white 
 gown, and I knew it meant a wedding, and I knew 
 not what to do ; but still, my child, I trusted thee so 
 wholly that I kept still, and sat there by the kitchen 
 hearth, my face in my two hands, till I heard the 
 front door open and shut, and I said, 
 
 " ' It is not my girl that has so left my house. No : I 
 will trust her, I will trust her yet ; for if she is false, 
 then u is time for me to die.' And I waited on, and 
 waited on, until my own sweet maid opened the door, 
 and said, 
 
 " ' There, Tabby, go if you will, and see you tell no 
 one.' " 
 
 " Oh ! I remember that too, father, but I never saw 
 you." 
 
 " No : your eyes were too blind with tears ; but I 
 saw you, my maid, and I saw the heart-break in your 
 face for days after that as you looked at me, and looked 
 at me ; and I punished you, poor lass, by never giving 
 you the chance to speak, until you left wanting to. 
 
 " But there, all is past now, and I am past. And, 
 child, I forgive you freely, and I bless you and wish 
 you well ; and for your sake I can forgive him too, 
 although that is harder, for it was through him that 
 my girl committed the only fault worth mentioning in 
 all her life. But I forgive him now, Molly : tell him I 
 forgave him, and you too, poor child, you too. Let 
 us speak no more of this. Tell me how thy mother 
 bears this blow." 
 
 So they talked the night away; and in the gray 
 dawn the grand, brave heart ceased to beat, the soul
 
 242 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 departed as calmly and trustfully as it had lived, and 
 Molly Wilder wept her bitter tears of self-reproach and 
 loneliness beside her father's corpse. 
 
 Self-reproach ! Ay, there is the bitterness of the 
 grave, there is the sting of death, not for ourselves, 
 but as we kneel beside the quiet face that will turn no 
 more toward us, even upon its death-pillow ; the still, 
 still lips that answer not, though our plea for forgive- 
 ness burst our own heart in its intensity; the eyes, 
 whose glance was our light of life, and now so sol- 
 emnly closed for us and all the world. Oh ! be 
 warned, be warned in time : let not the sun go down 
 upon your wrath ; speak out your penitence while yet 
 it may avail. 
 
 After this night came a time in Molly Wilder's life 
 which she never spoke of when it could be avoided, 
 and never thought of without a shudder ; for, though 
 the gold come forth from the furnace seven times 
 refined and purified, the passage is none the less terri- 
 ble, and the dross is not burned away without fierce 
 and consuming pain to the pure metal that remains. 
 
 Deborah Wilder had, after her own wintry fashion, 
 loved her husband very dearly ; and his loss, added to 
 her own physical condition, completed the work dis- 
 ease had begun. She took to her bed, and to weary 
 alternations of a little worse and a little better, but 
 never well enough to be less than a constant care and 
 fatigue to her patient nurse, at whom she fretted and 
 scolded and complained incessantly. Besides this, 
 came the work of the house and such farm matters as 
 pertained to the house ; and finally, when harvest-time
 
 THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 243 
 
 was at its height, Amariah came one night to his young 
 mistress to confess that he was no longer what he once 
 was, and felt that the work of the farm, especially at 
 this season, was quite beyond either his ability or his 
 strength, and was already ruinously behindhand ; con- 
 cluding by advising her to accept an offer, transmitted 
 through him from Reuben Hetherford, to get hi the 
 harvest, and finish the autumn work of the farm, for 
 half the crops. 
 
 " Half the crops, merely for gathering them in ! 
 Does the man take me for a fool ? " blazed out Molly 
 in most unwonted wrath. " Tell Master Hetherford, 
 with my compliments, that I shall be in far sorer need 
 than this, before I make such a bargain as that, or any 
 bargain indeed, with him." 
 
 "But how shall we get in the rye, Molly?" per- 
 sisted Amariah : " the wheat is ruined already by yes- 
 terday's rain, and the oats are dropping every day." 
 
 " Get help from Falmouth. Hire a man, or two 
 men, and get in the crops just as father used to show 
 you how." 
 
 " But how will we board the men, and you worked 
 to death already ? " whined the poor old man. 
 
 " Not to death ; for I can do yet more, and not 
 4uite die," replied his mistress bravely. "Go down 
 to-night, and see if your sister Susan will come and 
 stay with me until Thanksgiving time, to care for 
 mother and to help in the housework." 
 
 So two men and a woman were hired ; and when 
 the crops were gathered, and her hirelings dismissed, 
 Molly easily reckoned that it would have been many
 
 244 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 dollars cheaper to have allowed the whole harvest to 
 decay as it stood, and oh, so great a saving of labor 
 and vexation to herself ! 
 
 " And when spring comes, who is to do the plant- 
 ing?" whispered she to herself in dismay. 
 
 Spring came, and found Amariah so disheartened in 
 spirit, and so feeble in body, that Molly willingly 
 accepted the resignation he timidly offered ; and, hav- 
 ing steadfastly looked her position in the face, con- 
 cluded, that, acting as her mother's agent, she had no 
 right to decline the offer renewed by the Hetherfords, 
 this time in the mother's name, to carry on the farm 
 for the ensuing year for half the gross profits. Mrs. 
 Wilder, being consulted, gave a peevish consent, and 
 from that day out worried and fretted incessantly at 
 the waste and ruin she foresaw ; and for once saw truly, 
 since Hetherford was only restrained in his skinning 
 system, by the hope of ultimately possessing the farm 
 and its heiress, whom he had never ceased to desire 
 and to persecute. 
 
 At last poor Deborah Wilder 's weak and unsavory 
 taper went out altogether ; and she not so much died, 
 as ceased to complain or fret. Molly could not sor- 
 row as she had for her father ; and yet, standing be- 
 side her mother's shrouded form, a new and strange 
 desolation settled down upon her heart with an ex- 
 ceeding weight and bitterness, as she remembered that 
 she was an orphan, without one relative, so far as 
 she knew, this side the Atlantic, and none upon the 
 other whom she had ever seen or cared for. Home- 
 less, too ; since Mrs. Hetherford had already explained
 
 THE D.tRK HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 245 
 
 to her the impossibility of her remaining alone in the 
 farmhouse, and invited her to come and stay with 
 them ; giving the other half the crops as an equivalent 
 for her maintenance, during that year at least. 
 
 And it was two years and three months since Fran- 
 cois had bid her good-by ; and in all that time she had 
 not heard one word from him. " And perhaps will 
 never hear !" whispered this spirit of creeping gloom, 
 so new, so dreadful, a visitant in the girl's bright heart ; 
 but the heart was yet strong enough to rebel at such 
 domination, and cried out bravely, " Then it will be 
 because he is dead. If he lives, he will come." 
 
 "And why should he not be dead? " persisted De- 
 spair. " Your father, so strong and stalwart, is dead ; 
 your mother is dead; you have yourself felt as if 
 Death stood very near, and beckoned you to follow 
 him. Why should not Francois be dead? " 
 
 " Because God is good, and loves me, and I trust in 
 him," moaned the child aloud ; and, falling on her 
 knees at the side of the quiet figure of the dead, she 
 tried to pray, and could only moan, 
 
 " Help me, O my Father ! help me, or I perish." 
 
 Then came the funeral ; and when it was over they 
 led her to that new home, which to her never could be 
 home ; and in the gloaming she stole away, and went 
 back to the old house, and up to the priest's chamber 
 in the roof; and there, beside the pallet she never had 
 removed, she at last was able to weep the tears that 
 could not have fallen in that strange and dismal new 
 abode, and so wept away the load that all day long 
 had crushed her brain and heart.
 
 ^6 A WAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Coming down stairs after a while, she stood in the 
 room where her father had died, and where she her- 
 self had made that stolen bridal toilet; and as that 
 night came back in every detail, the heavy eye bright- 
 ened, and a tinge of color crept to the cheek and lips, 
 and a long breath lifted the load upon her lungs. 
 Then, still following in her memory the progress of 
 that night, she went and unbolted the front door, and 
 opened it. No snowy pathway stretched before it now, 
 but a carpet of clover-turf; and the great white-rose 
 bush beside the step nodded its stately head toward 
 her own, and a cloud of incense floated from each 
 pure chalice upward to the sky. 
 
 A horseman rode slowly past the little corn-barn, in 
 whose shelter Francois had found his last refuge ; but 
 she did not heed him, for she was burying her tearful 
 face in the white roses that she held in both hands, 
 and finding strange comfort in their wordless whisper- 
 ings. The traveller looked at her, however ; and then 
 he leaped from his horse, and came across the bit 
 of greensward, and, as she looked toward him with 
 startled and affrighted eyes, held out both his arms, 
 and said, 
 
 "My wife! My darling!" 
 
 "O Francois \ You have come, you have come ! "
 
 A BRID4L PROCESSION. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A BRIDAL PROCESSION. 
 
 TV TRS. HETHERFORD and her son sat in the star- 
 JLV JL light upon the back stoop of their house ; he 
 with his hat dragged down over his eyes, his elbows 
 upon his knees, chewing a bit of stick in a manner so 
 vicious as to suggest he would willingly have so de- 
 stroyed some enemy. She, slowly rocking back and 
 forth in a wooden chair, which creaked at each vibra- 
 tion with a peevish and weary sound, was knitting in 
 the dark, and eagerly narrating the events of the even- 
 ing. A few rods away the great gray sea thundered 
 upon the sands, scorning in its changeless might the 
 restlessness and helplessness of the men who call 
 themselves its master. 
 
 " So just as I got to the door, with the horn in my 
 hand to blow for supper," pursued Mrs. Hetherford, 
 " what should I see but my lady Molly marching up the 
 path, as grand as you please, with this fine gentleman 
 beside her, good-looking enough, I'll give in, but phew ! 
 prouder than Lucifer himself, and walking as straight 
 and smart as if the ground wasn't quite good enough 
 tor him to walk on. Up they come, while I stood 
 kind o* dumbfounded with the horn in my hand ; and 
 Molly says, says she "
 
 248 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " ' Mrs. Hetherford, this is Dr. LeBaron, a gentleman 
 to whom I have been troth-plight for some time. My 
 father's last words were to wish that he soon might 
 come to claim me, and here he is. We shall be mar- 
 ried in the morning at Squire Drew's, and go directly 
 to Boston.' Then he took off his hat, and made a 
 bow like as he was making fun of me, and I courtesied, 
 like a fool, just as I would to a lord in the old coun- 
 try ; and then I recollected where we are, and who 
 Molly is, and all, and I said, kind of patronizing, 
 
 "'Well, well, you've stole a march on us, Molly. 
 What do you expect Reuben will say? But come in, 
 both of you, and have some supper.' But upon that 
 my lord drew himself up as if I'd taken a liberty, and 
 bowed again, and said something to Molly, and walked 
 off; and she explained how he was going to sleep 
 over at her house, and she'd found enough left for his 
 supper out of the things set out for the mourners to- 
 day. So that's all ; and I must say, of all the disgrace- 
 ful" 
 
 -Shut up, mother," dutifully interposed her son at 
 chis word : " there's nothing disgraceful that I see. If 
 Molly's promised to the man with her father's consent, 
 and now is going to marry him, who's got any thing 
 to say? As for the rest, if he's too proud or too fine 
 to come inside my house, all the better, says I : let 
 him sleep or lie awake where he will, so long as 
 Molly's safe up-stairs here. Let 'em marry as soon as 
 *hey like; but this is what I've got to say," and, 
 breaking out of his enforced calm, Reuben sprang to 
 his feet, and, lifting hand and face to the starry sky,
 
 A BRIDAL PROCESSION. 249 
 
 he swore a black and bitter oath that before she died 
 Molly Wilder should be his wife. 
 
 "I,et her marry this man," repeated he, "let her 
 marry six men if she will, but I will be the seventh, 
 so help me God or the Devil, I care not which " 
 
 " Hush, hush, Reuben ! " exclaimed his mother, 
 rising also in horror ; but, dashing aside the hand she 
 would have laid upon his arm, he strode away into the 
 night, flinging back the warning, 
 
 "And mind you don't say disgraceful of her again, 
 mother : for in flinging dirt at her you fling it at me ; 
 for, so sure as she lives, she yet shall be my wife." 
 
 " Then, God help her ! " muttered the mother, out 
 of the bitterness of a wounded mother's heart ; and, 
 indeed, she had much to bear with this son, whom 
 during his infancy she had ruined by indulgence, and 
 who now repaid her in the customary fashion, espe- 
 cially during the last two or three years, when Molly's 
 open aversion and avoidance had doubly imbittered 
 his temper. Mercy, too, had married, and removed 
 to some distance, leaving the widowed mother sole 
 recipient of the abuse formerly shared between the 
 two ; so that, altogether, we must pity Dame Hether- 
 ibrd not a little, as she sees her hope of a sweet- 
 tempered and helpful companion for her lonely days 
 snatched away as soon as granted. 
 
 Molly, meantime, sitting at her window above, 
 vaguely heard the murmur .of voices, but cared not 
 for them. She was listening rather to that solemn 
 voice of the sea, voice familiar to all her life and all 
 its needs, and telling now of the sad, grave life of the
 
 250 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 last years finished and put away, and the bright, sweet 
 day dawning with to-morrow's sun. She loved him 
 so, and she trusted him so ! Without a question, 
 hardly an answer, she had heard his plans, including a 
 marriage before a magistrate to obviate the necessity 
 of relating the first marriage ; and her words, as they 
 left the old house forever, were the keynote of her 
 life,- 
 
 " I trust you, Francois, as my father trusted me." 
 
 Early the next morning Dr. LeBaron rode up to 
 the door of the Hetherford mansion ; and Molly, who 
 had risen with the dawn, came down to meet him, 
 already dressed for her journey. At her invitation to 
 enter, he simply smiled and shook his head ; and Molly 
 went to seek her hostess, whom she surprised peeping 
 at the stranger from behind her bedroom-curtains. 
 
 " I am going now. Won't you say good-by, aunty?" 
 asked the girl, clinging to the one poor apology that 
 was left her for the home-love and home-life that sud- 
 denly loomed so largely before her eyes. Quite to 
 her surprise, Mrs. Hetherford turned, and, putting her 
 arms about her neck, said with a hearty kiss, 
 
 " No : I won't say good-by ; but if you're bound to 
 be married this morning, I'll go along too, as far as 
 Squire Drew's, and show that if your own mother is 
 dead, there's one that feels like a mother to you, and 
 always means to, wherever you go." 
 
 "Will you really? Oh, thank you, thank you, dear 
 aunty ! and I am very sorry if I was short or cross 
 with you last night ; but I thought you would never 
 take to it kindly, and "
 
 A BRIDAL PROCESSION. 2$l 
 
 "And you were bound to have your own way 
 whether or no, just as you always did," interposed the 
 dame, who was acting partly under instructions, partly 
 trom a real, although very gnarled and twisted, affec- 
 tion for Molly. 
 
 " But one thing is sure," pursued she, when the two 
 had kissed again, and each had wiped her eyes : " you 
 are not going away without your breakfast, you nor 
 your young man neither. Reuben was away at day- 
 light to the ma'shes after salt hay ; and we three will 
 have a cosey little meal, and then I'll have old Dolly 
 saddled, and we all go to the squire's together." 
 
 So Molly, clinging still to this phantasm of a home 
 and a mother, went out and tenderly besought her 
 lover to yield his pride, as she had done hers, to this 
 old woman's pleasure and hospitable wish, and come 
 inside the house, and partake of the morning meal. 
 
 Francois listened, patted her cheek, smiled, and 
 yielded ? Oh, no ! but calmly said, 
 
 "My darling, I told you that I never should set 
 foot beneath that man's roof, nor will I ; and as for 
 eating his bread pah, it would choke me ! " 
 
 " But his mother it is she whom I wish to please ; 
 and I have no mother, Francois, and it is so strange 
 and sad for a girl to go to her husband with never a 
 woman's face to kiss good-by upon ! " 
 
 " Well, child, let her come with us if she will. I do 
 not say nay to that ; and go you in, and eat and drink 
 at her table, and play at mother and daughter with her 
 if you can. I will wait." 
 
 " No, no, Francois. I will come now."
 
 252 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 "Nay, I have a project. When I went to saddle 
 my horse this morning, I found a silly old man patting 
 and feeding him, who presently let me know that he 
 was Amariah, of whom in the old times I heard so 
 much ; and he, it seems, had already scented out my 
 presence, and tottered over here from his home, 
 wherever it may be, to look after us; and, among 
 other confidences, he intrusted me with his .intention 
 of making a fire in the dear old kitchen where I first 
 saw you, and preparing himself some breakfast. He 
 spoke of plenty of fresh eggs in the barn with a 
 chuckle of satisfaction, arising, probably, from the 
 memory of many a stolen feast upon them; and I 
 remembered your innocent surprise one day when no 
 eggs were forthcoming for your invalid's breakfast. 
 Well, with plenty of fresh eggs and some other matters 
 which Amariah will forage for, I shall construct an 
 omelet which will make the few remaining hairs upon 
 that old man's head stand erect with wonder and awe. 
 You remember my telling you how to make an ome- 
 let?" 
 
 " Yes, and my notable failure. But I will try again 
 if you will teach me." 
 
 "And, that I may be a worthy teacher to so fair a 
 pupil, I will go immediately, and perfect myself in the 
 operation." And, doffing his hat, Francois leaped 
 upon his horse, and rode away, leaving Molly half 
 vexed, half gratified, and saying to herself as she re- 
 entered the house, 
 
 "Always so gentle and so courteous, but always 
 having just his own way, and never mine 1 "
 
 A BRIDAL PROCESSION. 2$$ 
 
 An hour or two later a little cavalcade set forth 
 from Dame Hetherford's door, consisting of that worthy 
 woman herself, decked in an antiquated robe of green 
 silk, with a structure upon her head called a caleche 
 from its resemblance to the hood of the vehicle of that 
 name ; after her the lovers, he riding firm and square 
 upon the big black horse which had brought him from 
 Boston, and she upon a pillion, bashfully supporting 
 herself by an arm around his waist. Finally came 
 Amariah, bestriding a blind and halt old steed which 
 he had borrowed for the expedition, and urged along 
 by incessant thumps and whacks. 
 
 " My love," said Francois, lifting her from the pil- 
 lion at the squire's gate, " I trust that you rest content. 
 You have not gone to your nuptials without a bridal 
 procession." 
 
 "We only needed Tabitha to make it perfect," 
 replied Molly with a little laugh half a sob. " Dear 
 old Tabby ! she saw the real marriage, and ought to 
 have lived for this; but I am going to have hex 
 daughter sent after me as soon as we have a home."
 
 254 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 
 
 AND how is my good friend and patient, Mistress 
 Tilley?" asked Dr. LeBaron, as he drew rein 
 before the Bunch of Grapes, and saw the landlord 
 joyfully come forward to meet him. 
 
 " Marvellously better, doctor, marvellously ! " replied 
 the publican, beaming all over with delight, " and 
 wearying for a sight of you. Why, sir, I have a wil] 
 to be jealous in hearing nought but your name upon 
 her lips from morn till night, and when will he be 
 back, and how many days are gone so far, and praises 
 of your looks, your voice, your ways " r- 
 
 " Spare me, good friend, spare my blushes," laughed 
 the doctor, springing to the ground, and helping his 
 companion to alight. " And if you will give my wife 
 and me room in your pleasant house we will abide to- 
 night with you, and I shall see good Mistress Tilley 
 two or three times at least." 
 
 "Your wife, sir! Aha! The gossips will be at 
 rest now, for they could not make it out why you 
 were travelling down the Cape only to come back 
 again in a week or ten days, as you said ; but it is all 
 the better, all the better." 
 
 "All the better for me, no doubjt but for whom
 
 THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 255 
 
 else?" asked the doctor in some surprise, as he led 
 his wife on through the low-browed hall into the 
 parlor, so cool and shady in the summer noon, with 
 its sanded floor, and dark old furniture, the asparagus- 
 boughs hanging from the great beam running through 
 the middle of the ceiling, the nosegay of roses in a 
 bow-pot upon the hearth, and the floating muslin 
 curtains across the windows. 
 
 " Who beside myself is all the better for my mar- 
 riage, good mine host? " asked the doctor again, as the 
 landlord, smiling and bowing, would have here left his 
 guests. 
 
 " Why, sir but I may not tell : it is yet a secret, 
 but soon to be known to your worship, that is, when " 
 and stammering and bowing and tumbling over 
 his own toes, John Tilley contrived to get himself out 
 of the room, and closed the door behind him. 
 
 " It is some present, or perhaps a feast, planned foi 
 my return, and wherein my wife now shall share," said 
 the doctor, as he helped Molly to undo and lay aside 
 her riding spencer and hat, and then deftly and gravely 
 arranged her bright brown hair, a little dishevelled by 
 the wind. 
 
 " I wonder how my darling's face would look under 
 the towering head-dresses worn by the fashionable 
 dames abroad just now," said he, taking the round 
 chin in his hand, and seriously regarding his wife's 
 fair face. But she somewhat sharply withdrew a step, 
 and coloring vividly said, 
 
 " Content yourself in the beginning, Francois, with 
 the simple country girl whom you have wed. She 
 urill never be a fashionable dame, or look like one."
 
 256 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "So jealous lest I should regret mine own act, 
 little one, and so sharp in reproving the fault that was 
 not, except in your own fancy ! " said her husband 
 gently. " My Mary is not one of the women of 
 fashion whom I detest; but she surely is the sweet 
 and gentle and docile wife whom I have loved so 
 longingly, and sought so carefully, is she not?" 
 
 " You are gentler born than I, Francois, and must 
 teach me to amend my rude ways and blunt speech," 
 replied Molly with proud humility, and her eyes 
 filling with tears. 
 
 "I can teach thee nought half so important as 
 nature has taught thee already," whispered her hus- 
 band, kissing away the tears, much to the delight of 
 Margery Sampson, the landlady's sister, who, standing 
 with the door in her hand, announced smilingly, 
 
 " Mistress LeBaron's bedroom is ready, if she cares 
 to go to it." 
 
 " Ha, pretty Margery ! " exclaimed the doctor, turn- 
 ing around without the least embarrassment, while Mol- 
 ly's tears were dried by fiery blushes, " and how goes 
 the world with thee, child? And is the dame ready 
 to see me yet?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ! and more than ready ; and she bid 
 me ask if you could look in upon her now for a 
 moment." 
 
 " Indeed I will, Margery, if you will take my wife to 
 her own room. Your sister is where I left her, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "Yes, sir : you know the way. Come, madam." 
 
 The delight of a woman in the society of her favor-
 
 THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 2$/ 
 
 ite physician is one of those amiable weaknesses of 
 the sex at which men may marvel and sneer, but 
 which they never need hope to eradicate, since it 
 springs from two very feminine traits, the love of 
 talking about one's self, and the delight of relying 
 upon masculine strength and skill in directions where 
 the domestic authorities are obliged to confess incom- 
 petency or feign superiority. The father, husband, or 
 'brother sets down that peculiar feeling at the nape of 
 the neck, that odd buzzing in the ears, or that tend- 
 ency to tears and pettishness in the early morning, 
 to imagination, nerves, or some other " glittering gen- 
 erality " of contempt ; but Dr. So-and-so listens gravely 
 to all the symptoms, asks questions, recalls former 
 interviews, pays a little compliment, assures the inva- 
 lid that she is too delicately constituted to bear any 
 rough or careless treatment ; and finally shakes twelve 
 little powders into twelve little papers, numbers them 
 carefully, for mind of man refuses to contemplate 
 the mischief ensuing from the irregular consumption 
 of those powders, and retires leaving his patient 
 soothed, cheered, and already far upon the road to 
 recovery. She has her three dollars' worth, and the 
 unsympathetic monster who has to pay it is justly 
 mulcted for his unfeeling conduct. 
 
 So Dame Betty Tilley passed a charming half-hour 
 with her doctor, as she already styled LeBaron ; and 
 then he was called to tea, and still lingered over that 
 pleasant meal when Goodman Tilley, appearing at the 
 door, solemnly announced, 
 
 "Master Bradford, Master Rowland, and Master
 
 258 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Southworth, selectmen of the town of Plymouth, re- 
 quest the pleasure of Dr. LeBaron's presence in the 
 parlor of this inn." 
 
 " Request the pleasure of my company ! " exclaimed 
 LeBaron, starting to his feet, and carrying his hand to 
 his belt, as if seeking a weapon. " And for what ? The 
 war is over, peace is declared ! " 
 
 "And it is an errand of peace that brings them 
 here, as you shall see," replied Tilley, still in the sol- 
 emn and impressive manner of a herald negotiating 
 between high and mighty powers. The doctor glanced 
 at him, then at Molly, who had turned very white ; and 
 then, tossing his head in the careless and haughty 
 fashion habitual with him, he strode out of the room, 
 and across the passage to the twilight-parlor where his 
 guests awaited him. 
 
 They rose to meet him, and stood steadfastly re- 
 garding him for a moment without speaking, three 
 grave, responsible, thoughtful-looking men, worthy 
 successors of the fathers whose names they bore, and 
 the mantle of whose dignity still covered their de- 
 scendants. Bradford was the first to speak ; and after 
 mentioning his own name, and those of his associate? 
 he said, 
 
 "You are called Dr. Francis LeBaron, sir?" 
 
 "Yes, Master Bradford." 
 
 "And are a surgeon of the French army?" 
 
 " Again, yes, gentlemen ; although at a loss to un- 
 derstand the reason " 
 
 "1 crave your pardon, sir; but before speaking will 
 you listen to the message we, the selectmen of the
 
 THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 259 
 
 town of Plymouth, have been charged to convey to 
 you, and in that message you will find the motive of 
 what seems to you impertinent meddling." 
 
 "By no means, Master Bradford, and gentlemen. 
 I am but astonished that so humble and individual as 
 myself should have excited any attention at all in this 
 respectable town, or that its selectmen should trouble 
 themselves to inquire aught concerning me." 
 
 " They probably would not, sir, except ."or a need in 
 the town which you possibly may supply," returned 
 Bradford with a cool composure, equalling, at least, 
 the slightly arrogant tone of the baron, whose steely 
 eyes flashed suddenly upon the speaker, as he moved 
 a chair towards him, and courteously said, 
 
 "Will you seat yourselves, gentlemen? I am most 
 happy if in any manner I can oblige you, or the town, 
 more than by removing myself from it." 
 
 "That remains to be proven, Dr. LeBaron. We 
 have all known, and in a manner witnessed, through 
 the eyes of Phineas Hallowell, your skill and good 
 judgment in the matter of Dame Elizabeth Tilley's 
 leg ; and he says that you showed him sundry papers 
 proving your claim to the rank of physician and sur- 
 geon accredited by the European schools, and ranked 
 as such in the French army." 
 
 " Excuse my interruption, messieurs the selectmen ; 
 but I would be distinctly understood as not having 
 shown ray diploma, certificates, and commission to the 
 good cow-doctor in proof of my claims, as you phrase 
 it ; for I make no claims, or give any man the right to 
 question my statements. I come here a traveller, and
 
 26O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 a stranger ; I find a woman about to be mutilated by 
 well, by unwise practitioners; I interfere in the in- 
 terests of humanity and science, and cure her. After- 
 ward, in discussing foreign colleges, and modes of 
 education, with Master Hallowell, I show him certain 
 documents as matters of interest to a man having 
 some slight acquaintance with physic. That is all; 
 and, if there is some one else sick in the town, I shall 
 be happy to render my services again in the same fash- 
 ion, but must decline to submit to a previous cross- 
 examination at any hands." 
 
 John Bradford allowed a decorous moment of si- 
 lence to intervene, and then replied, his cool and 
 measured tones following the rapid and somewhat 
 heated utterance of the Frenchman, as the chill north 
 wind sweeps in to fill the vacuum left by the burning 
 air exhaled from the face of the desert, 
 
 " It is ever unwise, young man, to resent an injury 
 not offered, or to reply to a question not yet asked. 
 If you will hear me out, my errand is briefly this : 
 
 " We have here in Plymouth no educated and com- 
 petent physician, and we wish for one. Your skill has 
 already been proven; and your education and rank 
 may be proven by the exhibition of the papers shown 
 by you, from whatever motive, to Phineas Hallowell. 
 This being settled, we are empowered by the town to 
 invite you to remain among us as our surgeon, physi- 
 cian, and apothecary. The town offers you a tract of 
 twenty-five acres of land wherever outside the village 
 you may select it, and a house-lot on the main street, 
 with assistance, if you need it, in building a house
 
 THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 26 1 
 
 thereon : you will have such fees as are usual among 
 us, some of them paid in money, but more in produce ; 
 and you will receive a cash salary of ten pounds, by 
 the year, for attention and physic for the town's 
 poor." 
 
 " And that is quite as much as, if not more than, we 
 do for our minister," said Constant Southworth, break- 
 ing silence for the first time ; while John Rowland 
 stirred uneasily in his chair, and cleared his throat as 
 if to audibly indorse his companions' statements, but, 
 thinking better of such waste of words, relapsed into 
 his usual golden silence. 
 
 Dr. LeBaron looked from one to the other of those 
 gray and impassible faces, and felt a certain respect 
 and deference arising in his mind, such as the pres- 
 ence of kings and emperors had not always evoked in 
 it. He bowed courteously to all three in succession, 
 and answered in the same tone, 
 
 " First and always, messieurs, I have to thank you 
 for the confidence in my poor skill, and also in my 
 moral and social standing, implied in this invitation, 
 which is so unexpected that I must beg a little time 
 to consider of it, and to consult my wife, who accom- 
 panies me, and must have her voice in the choice of 
 a residence for life. I had intended to settle in Bos- 
 ton, but have made no binding arrangements there, 
 and shall I see you again in the morning, gentle- 
 men?" 
 
 The selectmen looked at each other, silently rose 
 and stood, their rock-like faces turned upon LeBaron
 
 262 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAtf. 
 
 as he first had seen them, while John Bradford quietly 
 replied, 
 
 " We shall be here at eight o'clock of the morning, 
 and trust to find you ready to accede to our offer."
 
 A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 
 
 PUNCTUALLY as the clock struck eight the next 
 JT morning, the three selectmen entered the parlor 
 of the Bunch of Grapes ; and before the sound of 
 their footsteps in the passage died away, Dr. LeBaron 
 followed them, looking very handsome, and a little 
 supercilious, in the bright June morning, for he carried 
 a roll of papers in his hand, and felt that he presented 
 himself on approval. The selectmen gravely saluted 
 him, and waited in silence for a reply to the questions 
 already sufficiently stated. The baron unrolled his 
 papers upon the table, and said, 
 
 " Will you take the trouble to glance at these, gen- 
 tlemen ? Here is my diploma from the University at 
 Bologna, this from the Medical School at Vienna, this 
 Certificate of ability from the Physicians' College, Lon- 
 don, and this is my commission as surgeon in the 
 French navy." 
 
 In perfect silence the worthy selectmen placed their 
 cectacles upon their noses, carefully read each docu- 
 ment from end to end, with the exception of the 
 commission, which, being expressed in French, was 
 only intelligible to Bradford, while the crabbed Latin 
 of the others was familiar enough to all.
 
 264 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 The inspection finished, Bradford took off and 
 folded his spectacles, and having looked earnestly at 
 his colleagues, who gravely replied by answering looks, 
 he said, 
 
 "These papers are perfectly satisfactory, Dr. Le- 
 Baron, in all points save one. They are made out 
 simply in the name of Franciscus, except the com- 
 mission, where the title is le docteur Francois. Youi 
 name, I understand, is LeBaron." 
 
 " Worthy Master Bradford and gentlemen," replied 
 the doctor, "we have arrived at a point foreseen by 
 me since I first understood your errand, and one past 
 which we may possibly never go, however much I may 
 regret losing your friendship and countenance. I am, 
 as you perceive, a man of no nationality, educated in 
 Italy, in Germany, in England, in the school of the 
 world, in one word a cosmopolitan. I have no name 
 except that of Francis, Latinized by one set of my 
 acquaintance, Gallicized by another, Anglicized by the 
 third. To this name I add for convenience' sake that 
 of LeBaron, which may or may not belong more than 
 another to me. Here you have all of my history that 
 you will ever possess ; and from this day forth I shall 
 answer no man's questions, even as patiently as I have 
 yours. If, under these conditions, you care to have 
 me settle among you, and act as the physician of your 
 bodies, I am ready to accept the offer made me last 
 night." 
 
 " One question more, Dr. LeBaron, before we close 
 the contract," replied Bradford, after a brief consulta- 
 tion with his associates : " what is your religious be- 
 lief?"
 
 A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 26$ 
 
 " That from which your fathers fled. I am a Roman 
 Catholic," replied LeBaron briefly and sternly. 
 
 A slight movement of undisguised horror told the 
 feeling with which this announcement was received, 
 and again the three consulted in whispers ; while the 
 baron, with an angry flush upon his high Norman 
 cheek-bones, rolled up his papers and put them in his 
 pocket. Presently Bradford turned toward him, and 
 in his grave yet benevolent voice said, 
 
 "You have rightly said that our fathers fled to this 
 bleak and arid soil to escape the corruptions and tyr- 
 anny of the Roman Church ; and we, their descend- 
 ants, hate and dread it as we should. Nevertheless, 
 even as in your own art it is sometimes permitted to 
 employ deadly and loathsome poisons for the healing 
 of disease, and the skilful physician can turn even the 
 tongue of the adder and the venom of the toad to 
 more advantage than an unlearned man can the pure 
 and pleasant remedies of nature ; so it is permitted 
 to us to use your skill, regardless of your religion, 
 that is, if you will accede to certain conditions." 
 
 "As what, gentlemen?" 
 
 " That the silence you propose, with unnecessary 
 asperity, to maintain in regard to all your worldly 
 affairs, shall extend to those spiritual as well. That 
 you shall never mention to any person beyond us 
 three, your religious beliefs or opinions, or in any 
 manner inculcate or teach them, even in your own 
 household. The matter will be a secret confined to 
 ourselves, and hence no scandal shall arise. We must 
 also stipulate that you shall, as often as convenient,
 
 266 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 attend divine service in the meeting-house on Sunday, 
 and instruct your family so to do. And in concluding, 
 I pray you, sir, not to resent this plain speaking, or 
 this somewhat rigid stipulating upon our part, since we 
 act, as it were, in the place of fathers of the family 
 among whom we invite you to dwell. And while we 
 are amply willing to intrust the bodies of our children 
 to your skill and judgment, we would anxiously insure 
 against peril to the souls which are so much more to 
 be valued; even as men, while lighting a fire in 
 times of pestilence to purify the air, hedge it about 
 with jealous care lest it consume their homes." 
 
 " In truth, Master Bradford, you are a plain speaker, 
 and I know not whether of two courses to pursue : to 
 wish you all a very good morning, call for my horse, 
 and ride away, relieving this good town of its present 
 dangerous association with a noisome and loathsome 
 poison, tongue of adder, venom of toad, and destroy- 
 ing fire, all which similes you have used in describing 
 me, or to give you my hand, call you the only hon- 
 est man I ever saw, and accept your offer on your 
 own conditions." 
 
 " The latter is the wiser and more Christian course, 
 doctor," said Bradford smiling grimly. 
 
 "Say you so? Then I adopt it," exclaimed Le- 
 Baron frankly, and courteously suiting the action to 
 the word. "But allow me to tell you, friend, that 
 your medical education is far behind the light of mod- 
 ern science. We no longer use powdered adders or 
 steeped toads for medicine ; and, indeed, it is much 
 doubted whether the toad possesses either the venom 
 or the jewel attributed to him by the ancients."
 
 A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 267 
 
 u Indeed? Well, doctor, we shall be ready to learn 
 of you in all matters physical ; and by God's grace 
 you may learn of us some of those great and awful 
 spiritual truths which startled our fathers from their 
 sleep beneath the claws of the great and terrible 
 dragon of Popery." 
 
 " Hold, good Master Bradford ! I have in turn one 
 condition to impose before the bargain is sealed.'* 
 
 "And what is that?" asked Bradford anxiously. 
 
 " That no one shall seek to corrupt me to Protest- 
 antism. Let the silence on the subject of religion be 
 mutual." 
 
 "Friend, I stand reproved," replied Bradford hum- 
 bly ; and so went his way, followed by his colleagues.
 
 268 NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE. 
 
 AGAIN at Montarnaud, again in the summer gar- 
 den where the flowers bloom as freshly and as 
 gayly as they did twelve years ago; where still the 
 fountains tinkle, and the birds sing, and the sweet 
 winds come and go with kisses on their breath. The 
 chateau is even more imposing than of old ; for the 
 revenues of Rochenbois have come to fill the empty 
 coffers of Montarnaud, and the old house has been re- 
 stored, amplified, and embellished, until it hardly knows 
 itself. Time the Destroyer has given way to Timef 
 the Perfecter everywhere ; and not a change is to bej 
 seen that is not an improvement. But stay : what shall 
 we say of the lady reclining in this garden-chair be- 
 neath the shade of the fragrant oleanders, one of whose 
 petals has fallen so charmingly upon her dusky hair ? 
 What have twelve years done for her whom we left a 
 girl of sixteen in all the glory of her morning loveli- 
 ness? The cheek could hardly be more colorless than 
 it was then ; but one seems to feel that the blood no 
 longer pulses so rapidly beneath its creamy surface, 
 and the merry mouth has learned to fold itself more 
 immovably, perhaps more scornfully; the wealth of 
 lustrous hair is coiffed more artificially than in the old
 
 THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE. 269 
 
 time ; and the large dark eyes move more languidly, 
 and hardly care to raise their slumberous lids at every 
 call. The toilet is no longer that of a careless girl, 
 but perfect in its taste, art, and befitting richness. In 
 fact, we have here the handsome and elegant dame du 
 grande monde ; and the Valerie who perched in the 
 branches of the oak, and teased her nurse and gover- 
 ness, is gone forever. And yet one must change his 
 half-breathed sigh of regret at this loss into one of 
 astonishment and delight, as he catches sight of a little 
 fairy form chasing butterflies among the roses ; a little 
 atom of life and light and motion, looking, with her 
 floating gold-bronze curls, her glowing cheeks, and 
 parted lips, her dancing eyes, and swift aerial motions, 
 more like the creation of some wonderful magician, a 
 fairy caught and clothed with some elemental and 
 unsubstantial body, than a child of ordinary earth. 
 And this is the little Therese, heiress of Montarnaud 
 and Rochenbois, only child surviving of Valerie's love- 
 less and disastrous marriage. Up and down the gar- 
 den paths skims the child, swift as a swallow, uncer- 
 tain as the butterflies she chases : and after her toils a 
 young woman, her comely face warm with wrath and 
 sunshine, for she wishes of all things to seat herself in 
 some cool and shaded nook to spell out a note just 
 handed her by one of the servants, in the handwriting 
 of her dearly-loved brother, whom as yet she has 
 seen but once since his return from foreign travel, 
 and who is to visit her, with the consent of Madame 
 la Comtesse, this very day ; but, in chasing this restless 
 little sprite up and down, she cannot even find time to 
 read what may be the announcement of his arrival.
 
 2/0 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 A figure in clerical costume appears at the head of 
 the steps leading from the terrace down to the garden ,' 
 and Madame Clotilde^ as she is called, utters a joyous 
 exclamation, 
 
 " It is he, my dear brother, mademoiselle ! " 
 
 "Can he catch butterflies? " asks the little lady, and 
 then adds in a tone of disgust, " Why, he's a priest 
 too ! I wish somebody but priests would come here. 
 I like soldiers better : I wish mamma did." 
 
 Madame Clotilde approaches her mistress, and 
 joyously announces, 
 
 " My brother, madame. May I leave mademoiselle 
 with her nurse, and take him into the house ? " 
 
 "No: fetch him here, and take The"rese to the 
 other end of the garden," languidly replies the count- 
 ess. "The heat and her voice have given me a 
 headache, and perhaps Pere Vincent's conversation 
 may amuse me for a while." 
 
 So Clotilde, with a decided pout and frown upon 
 her pretty face, goes to meet her brother, and delivers 
 the lady's mandate, adding a few words of muttered 
 complaint on her own part, at which he gently smiles, 
 murmuring, 
 
 " By and by, my child, by and by." 
 
 Then he approaches madame, who does not disturb 
 herself except to smile graciously, and wave her hand 
 toward a chair close beside her couch. The abbe" 
 bows profoundly, seats himself, and studies his com- 
 panion with sidelong imperceptible glances. 
 
 "It is a long time since we met, monsieur Tabbe"," 
 says Valerie in a tone of courteous indifference.
 
 THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE. 2/1 
 
 " And yet nothing is changed except for the bettel 
 here at Montamaud, madame." 
 
 * "That is as one thinks. Twelve years leave theit^ 
 mark wherever they pass." And a gloomy shadow 
 crosses the countess's beautiful face, as if those twelve 
 years suddenly stood between her and the sun. But, 
 rallying immediately, she inquires absently, 
 
 "And where have you been all these years, mon- 
 sieur?" 
 
 " In many places, madame. I have visited nearly 
 all the countries of the world." 
 
 " Indeed ! You must have seen many curious 
 things. And where did you remain longest? " 
 
 " I can hardly tell, madame ; for it has seldom been 
 an unbroken year in any one place." 
 
 "And were you never homesick, abb?" 
 
 " Sometimes, I confess, madame ; for there is no spot 
 of earth so charming or so dear to me as France." 
 
 "Then, why did you not return sooner? " 
 
 " I had work to do abroad, madame." 
 
 " Oh ! you were sent upon some mission by the 
 Church?" 
 
 "We priests do nothing except under direction, 
 madame." 
 
 " And you are never allowed to travel alone, I am 
 informed," said the lady carelessly. 
 
 " Madame forgets perhaps that I am not a Regular," 
 said the abbe with an air of explaining every thing. 
 
 "Well, then, you did travel alone?" demanded the 
 countess petulantly. 
 
 " Sometimes, madame."
 
 2/2 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 " And other times who was your companion? " 
 
 "One is always meeting friends and associates, 
 madame. From Rome to Vienna I travelled with 
 Pere Clement, a pupil of Pere Condren, and a very 
 holy man. Then in Ghent I met with the venerable 
 Pere Bourdaloue, and we travelled to Geneva ; and " > 
 
 "Yes, yes, I understand; but I meant rather to 
 inquire how long you held companionship with my 
 husband's brother, le baron Francois. You went 
 abroad in his company at first, if I remember." 
 
 " He is not in France now then, madame ? " 
 
 " That is what I am asking you, monsieur." 
 
 " Excuse me, madame ; but it is I who must ask 
 news of you in such matters. I am so new an arrival 
 on French soil that I have hardly yet seen any one." 
 
 Madame la Comtesse clenched the costly fan in her 
 right hand until the pearl sticks broke with a light 
 crush audible to the priest's ears. Then she sat a 
 little more upright, and said, 
 
 " Monsieur I'abb6, I need a chaplain here at Mont- 
 arnaud. The duties are very light, not interfering 
 with any other appointments he may hold, and the 
 salary is something very considerable to a priest merit- 
 ing my approval. Would the post suit you, do you 
 think?" 
 
 " Admirably, madame, if I receive permission from 
 my superior to accept it." 
 
 "And who is your superior?" 
 
 " I have so many, madame ! The general of our 
 Order first, no doubt : but, as I am attached to the 
 Cathedral at Marseilles, I am under the authority of
 
 THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE. 2/3 
 
 the bishop of that diocese as to the disposal of my 
 time ; and, if madame pleases, I will lay her very 
 flattering proposal before him to-night, and, having 
 permission, will accept " 
 
 "One moment, monsieur. Before we settle the 
 chaplaincy we will finish our conversation upon other 
 matters. Where did you tell me you parted from the 
 baron Francois, who left this house in your company?" 
 
 " It is quite true, madame, that the baron left here 
 in my company upon the night of the unfortunate 
 quarrel between him and the Vicomte de Montarnaud, 
 and remained for some days with me in Marseilles ; but 
 since that I have no news to tell of him." 
 
 "Nothing? En passant, I have news for you of 
 Mademoiselle Salerne. She is a rich widow now, and 
 probably in need of a confessor. I must get her to 
 keep house for me while I am in Paris this winter ; 
 and, if you are chaplain, you will look after her, I hope. 
 Meantime, what were you saying of my brother-in- 
 law?" 
 
 " Madame, the last time I had the honor of men- 
 tioning my pupil's name to you was in conveying a 
 billet-doux from him to you after his flight from thu> 
 house ; and on that occasion you very properly repri- 
 manded me for meddling in matters unbecoming my 
 profession, and threatened to report me to the Comte 
 de Montarnaud, then alive. That reproof has had so 
 salutary an effect upon me, that I believe I have abso- 
 lutely lost my memory in all matters except those per- 
 taining to the Church. I cannot, for instance, recall 
 at this moment any thing whatever in connection with
 
 2/4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 the baron Francois beyond your refusal to reply to 
 that billet-doux" 
 
 "Is it possible, my dear abbe? This is a misfor- 
 tune in which I am compelled not only to sympathize 
 but share, since with so fatal an infirmity as loss of 
 memory, you could not perform the duties of chaplain, 
 and we must relinquish the idea." 
 
 " So I supposed, madame." 
 
 " You are quite sure that you cannot conquer this 
 treacherous memory, at least in one direction ? " 
 
 " Unfortunately, I am quite sure, madame." 
 
 " Such a pity ! Adieu, then, monsieur. I will not 
 detain you from your sister longer. She has so few 
 opportunities of seeing her friends, poor thing, since I 
 do not approve much visiting or receiving among the 
 persons in my employ." 
 
 The abb6 bowed profoundly, and withdrew ; mutter- 
 tering between his teeth as he once more brushed the 
 roses of Montarnaud from their stems with the skirt 
 of his soutane, 
 
 " These aristocrats are terribly monotonous 1 They 
 have only one little set of insolences, and all use them 
 the moment they cannot have their way in every 
 thing." 
 
 It was one of the unheeded mutterings heralding 
 the wildest storm of anarchy the world has ever seen : 
 it was called the Reign of Terror.
 
 THF RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL 2?$ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL. 
 
 AMONG other advantages of Madame la Com- 
 tesse de Montarnaud's frequent residences in 
 the capital, she had become acquainted with her 
 country neighbors, and chiefly with the sprightly and 
 fashionable Marquise d'Odinard nee d'Aubigney, who 
 had married a fair estate about as far from Marseilles 
 on the one side as Montarnaud on the other. In Paris 
 the two young women were inseparable, and in the 
 country visited each other when nothing more amus- 
 ing presented itself. In one point, however, they had 
 hitherto found but little sympathy; for Olive d'Odi- 
 nard, young, rich, pretty, and spoiled, found a certain 
 piquancy in varying her worldly pleasures with some of 
 those ascetic observances already coming into vogue at 
 court, where the rule of Madame de Maintenon was 
 replacing the gay sovereignty of de Montespan ; and 
 the most frivolous votaries of fashion made a point of 
 weeping during the sermons of the elegant preachers, 
 on whose lips still rested the fires kindled by Francis 
 de Sales, Bourdaloue, de Condren, Vincent de Paul, 
 and the rest who illuminated this cycle, and so power- 
 fully revived the dying faith in France. 
 
 But Valerie, although she would fain follow every
 
 2/6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 fashion of the court, could not endure the weariness 
 besetting an untrue religious life ; and, when urged 
 thereto by her friend at certain periods, would some- 
 times declare that there was no king ready to marry 
 her as there was for Madame de Maintenon ; some- 
 times that cards, stupid as they were, were less weari- 
 some than prayers ; and sometimes that priests always 
 sent her to sleep before she had time to profit by their 
 eloquence. 
 
 But in the night succeeding her futile attempt to 
 corrupt the Abb Despard's loyalty to his friend, Va- 
 lerie suddenly remembered that Olive had invited her 
 to dine on the following day at her house in company 
 with Pere Roussillon, coadjutor of the cathedral in 
 Marseilles ; and the marquise had urged the invitation 
 by the remark that P6re Roussillon was precisely the 
 man to work her friend's conversion. Valerie had jest- 
 ingly declined this invitation, but now resolved to 
 accept it, nodding confidentially to herself in the dark- 
 ness as she did so, and then falling asleep with the 
 smile of an approving conscience on her lips. 
 
 The next morning found her silent and thoughtful ; 
 and about noon, having made a careful toilet, she 
 entered her coach, and arrived at the Chateau d'Odi- 
 nard about three ; the marquise being so ultra fashion- 
 able as to dine at that hour when on her own estate, 
 although in Paris obliged to conform to the court hour 
 of one. 
 
 " You see that I have come, ma chere" said the 
 guest, embracing her hostess with effusion ; " for I 
 found myself so triste without you after yesterday 
 Besides, I want to consult your Pere Roussillon "
 
 THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL. 2JJ 
 
 " O Valerie ! about your conscience ? " exclaimed 
 Olive, clasping her hands in rapture. 
 
 " No, dear," replied Valerie dryly. "About a much 
 more interesting matter, the restoration of the chapel 
 at Montarnaud. It is quite in ruins ; and I want it 
 made just as lovely as yours here at Odinard, and then 
 I will have a chaplain and daily mass. Now, I hear 
 tnat the coadjutor understands ecclesiastical archi- 
 tecture a merveille, and I thought I would consult 
 him. Am I right?" 
 
 "Admirably right, ma mie. Yes, indeed, Pere 
 Roussillon understands all this sort of thing as no- 
 body else does. The restorations at the cathedral 
 were all his work. The bishop put the whole thing 
 in his hands ; and, truth to tell, the dear bishop is not 
 half so learned a man as his coadjutor, although of 
 course more holy." 
 
 " Why more holy? " asked Valerie in surprise. 
 
 "Just because he is a bishop, I mean. Is not his 
 holiness the Pope more holy than well, this Pere 
 Despard, for instance, who has just been made assistant 
 at the cathedral ? I was so vexed on Saturday to find 
 him in the confessional ! He said Pere Roussillon was 
 ill, and had sent him in his place." 
 
 " Pere Despard is assistant to the coadjutor, is he? " 
 asked Valerie carelessly. 
 
 " Yes. But he is nobody. Come up-stairs, and let 
 Pauline arrange your head-dress a little. How lovely 
 you have made yourself to-day ! " 
 
 When the ladies returned to the salon y Pere Rous- 
 sillon had already arrived with some guests, and was
 
 278 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 presently seated beside Valerie at the table, much to 
 his satisfaction as well as hers ; for Madame d'Odinard 
 had spoken so often and so earnestly to her confessor 
 of this altogether worldly yet altogether charming 
 friend of hers, and expressed such an ardent wish for 
 her conversion, that the worthy coadjutor, not a little 
 bitten with the zeal for proselytism so current just then 
 in France, felt a considerable desire to try his powers 
 on this rebellious daughter of the Church. 
 
 But the good and simple priest was no match for 
 the practised woman of the world whom he aspired to 
 lead, and very soon was himself led, all unconsciously 
 no doubt, but very docilely, into precisely the paths 
 where she had intended he should tread. The res- 
 torations of the chapel were thoroughly discussed ; and 
 it was Pere Roussillon himself who proposed to visit 
 Montarnaud the next day, and make further suggestions 
 on the spot; and Madame Montarnaud promised to 
 present herself very, very soon at the cathedral, not 
 only to admire the restorations on which the good 
 coadjutor justly prided himself, but to perform the reli- 
 gious duties which she owned, with the innocent self- 
 accusation of a child, had been sadly neglected ; and 
 then dinner was over, and the company adjourned to 
 the garden to make Watteau pictures of themselves in 
 the twilight ; and presently the priest again found him- 
 self beside the fair convert, who evidently only needed 
 proper guidance to do such great things, and by and 
 by was insensibly led into talking of the missions in 
 Canada, a subject in which, as all the world knew, he 
 was deeply learned and warmly interested. Espe-
 
 THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL. 279 
 
 cially he waxed eloquent in praise of Madame de la 
 Peltrie, that young, wealthy, and attractive widow, who 
 had found it joy to devote herself and all that she 
 possessed to the actual toil and privation of this 
 mission, who had built churches and convents in the 
 wilderness, taught the Indians, nursed the sick, en- 
 couraged her fellow-laborers, and now recently died 
 upon the scene of her glorious career, leaving a 
 terrible gap in the heroic band still lingering on the 
 shores of the St. Lawrence, although well-nigh dis- 
 couraged. 
 
 " I wish I were a woman like that," said Valerie in 
 bitter admiration, as she listened to the priest's glowing 
 periods, and for a moment she really did ; then return- 
 ing to her own life with a little shrug and sigh, she 
 said, " What vivid pictures you draw of all these things, 
 man pere! You have been in Quebec, or at least 
 spoken with some of these heroes? " 
 
 " I have never been allowed to go, although always 
 desiring it," said the priest. " But I have spoken with 
 many of our returned missioners, and lately have 
 talked much with my new assistant, Pere Despard, but 
 just returned from Canada." 
 
 "Ah,\yes, Pere Despard," said Valerie carelessly. 
 " I used to know him very well in the old days at 
 Montarnaud. And did monsieur my brother-in-law 
 interest himself in all these good and pious works ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I fear not," replied the priest absently ; 
 and then suddenly recognizing his indiscretion, ne 
 glanced somewhat severely at the Eve beside him, and 
 coldly said,
 
 280 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " I crave pardon of madame. I answered at ran' 
 dom and without listening to her question. May I ask 
 madame to repeat it? " 
 
 Madame could not immediately reply ; for her lace 
 flounce had caught on the twig of a holly-bush, and 
 such costly lace must be dealt tenderly withal. By the 
 time it was released and she stood upright again, 
 miladi's rdle was taken, the admirable but most 
 delicate rdle of audacious frankness. Looking straight 
 into the somewhat threatening eyes of her com- 
 panion, she laughed lightly, and said, 
 
 " I have surprised your secret, mon pere ! and you 
 are angry at me, and no wonder ! It was very bold, 
 very irreverent, and you shall put me to penance the 
 very first time I go to the cathedral; but I did so 
 want to know if that poor boy were alive, and where, 
 and how. My companion of childhood, my husband's 
 only brother, the heir after Therese to all our estates ! 
 Was it not reasonable that I should desire to know? " 
 
 " Most reasonable, madame ; but why not ask 
 honestly for the information, supposing I had it?" 
 demanded the priest reprovingly, yet softening. 
 
 " Ah, mon pere ! do not set me bad examples, then, 
 by trifling with the truth. ' Supposing you had it ! ' but 
 I already knew you to have it : I saw the Abb6 Despard 
 but yesterday ; and, although he would not give me the 
 intelligence I asked, himself, he let me understand 
 But there, my heedless tongue will bring me into new 
 mischief. At any rate, I know that you know all about 
 my poor brother, and that you feel bound to keep the 
 secret, although as it was not told you in confession it
 
 THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL. 28 1 
 
 can be no sin to reveal it ; and so, neither wishing to 
 give you the pain of refusing me, nor the temptation 
 to betray a confidence, I just surprised you into a 
 confession which does away with all need of further 
 reticence. Say you forgive me, mon perc" 
 
 The coadjutor shook his head and frowned, yet 
 smiled in such evident amusement that Valerie saw 
 that the day was hers, and went on, 
 
 " And it is in your interests, mon pere, as a pillar of 
 the Church, as well as in mine as a relative, that I 
 wish to find and influence this misguided boy. My 
 poor little The"rese is but a puny child ; and should she 
 die unmarried Francois inherits all the property of 
 Montarnaud and Rochenbois ; and after him again 
 conies Berthier de Montarnaud, his cousin, and a bit- 
 ter Huguenot." 
 
 "A Huguenot ! " echoed Pere Roussillon, in a voice 
 as if he said, " A boa-constrictor ! " Valerie nodded 
 significantly. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, a Huguenot of the Huguenots, who 
 would sell every thing that could be sold of these 
 fair estates, and pour all the proceeds into the hands 
 of these heretical and blasphemous Genevan ministers. 
 Is it not worth while to do something to prevent 
 this?" 
 
 " Is it not, indeed ! " echoed the priest : " madame, 
 you alarm me incredibly, and I fully forgive the little 
 ruse by which you surprised my knowledge of your 
 brother's whereabouts. Still, I do not feel at liberty to 
 give you one word further of information without the 
 knowledge of Pere Despard, and his permission to,
 
 282 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 repeat Stay, if he would himself speak to you, it 
 might be better, would it not? " 
 
 Valerie smiled maliciously. Really it would not be 
 bad to have this insolent priest, who had so coolly 
 refused to give her the information she sought, forced 
 to come and give her yet more ; and she somewhat 
 eagerly replied, 
 
 " Oh, yes, mon pere ! Give him your orders to tell 
 me all that I desire to know, and bring him with you 
 to-morrow to Montarnaud." 
 
 " I can hardly give Monsieur Despard orders in a 
 matter of this sort," replied the coadjutor coldly, for 
 something in the malicious tone repelled and warned 
 him. " For I am neither the Bishop of Marseilles, 
 that is to say, his ecclesiastical superior, nor am I his 
 confessor and spiritual director : but I will represent to 
 him the great benefit possibly to be gained to the 
 Church by openly imparting any information concern- 
 ing his late pupil to the relatives of that gentleman 
 and in short, madame, you may expect the abbe 1 lo 
 accompany me to Montarnaud to-morrow." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, mon plre" replied the 
 countess, feeling that she had better push the matter 
 no farther. "And now tell me something more of 
 Madame de la Peltrie, whom I absolutely feel tempted 
 to imitate."
 
 THE DOCTORS DRESSING-ROOM. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 
 
 THE piece of land for the doctor's house was 
 allotted by the town, and the tract of woodland 
 apportioned ; but when the question of building the 
 house arose, it was found that the new citizen had 
 not only ideas of his own, but the means of carrying 
 them out. So far from accepting assistance from the 
 town, he proved himself a more liberal and indulgent 
 paymaster than the mechanics employed had ever 
 met, and so courteous moreover, that these men, all 
 of them worthy and responsible townsmen, found no 
 derogation from their dignity in obeying his orders. 
 
 Some little gossip arose, however, as the new house 
 approached completion, and still more when it was 
 furnished and ready for occupancy ; for, although the 
 principal rooms were arranged much after the usual 
 fashion of the time, and filled with the best part of 
 the movables from Molly's own house beyond Fal- 
 fliouth, there were two rooms forming a wing or L, 
 devoted to her husband's sole occupancy, and fur- 
 nished after his own taste, partly from Molly's stores 
 and partly from articles purchased in Boston where the 
 doctor made occasional visits, although none of the 
 gossips could ascertain whither he went. The Iowa
 
 284 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 of these rooms, connected with the main body of 
 the house by one door, and with the street by another, 
 was Dr. LeBaron's office, library, and smoking-room : 
 and from it a narrow, enclosed, winding stair led to a 
 room above, called his dressing-room, opening into 
 his wife's bedroom; the latter a large and well- 
 furnished chamber, adorned with the famous curtains 
 wrought by Grandmother Ames and serving as Molly 
 Wilder's bridal dress. The doctor's dressing-room, 
 although containing various matters not considered 
 essential by his stern and ascetic townsmen, might, 
 however, have passed without comment, but for one 
 article appearing there on the very day when the house 
 was pronounced ready for occupancy, and whose pres- 
 ence, discovered by Desire Billings, the young woman 
 who had undertaken to help Mistress LeBaron in her 
 household duties, was before bedtime known at nearly 
 every fireside in Plymouth. This was a hammock, a 
 new and substantial hammock, probably bought in 
 Boston on the doctor's last visit thither, and swung by 
 his own hands to iron staples, inserted during the 
 building of the room, in the solid oaken beams at the 
 corners, proving, as Desire shrewdly pointed out, that 
 this arrangement was no sudden caprice or fancy of 
 the doctor's, but a deliberate plan of life. 
 
 "And is it furnished with bedclothes?" asked the 
 gossip to whom Desire first confided her discovery. 
 That discreet young woman screwed up her mouth 
 and slowly nodded. 
 
 "There's a hard pillow; what it's made of, I don't 
 know, but not of good live-geese feathers like those in
 
 THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 285 
 
 the rest of the house ; and there's a couple of black 
 things that maybe pass for blankets, and there's a sort 
 of a rug to lie on. If you call that 'furnished with 
 bedclothes,' why, I don't." 
 
 " And he'U leave that poor young woman's bed for 
 inch a pig's nest as that ! " exclaimed the gossip ; and 
 then she and Desire Billings flew in opposite direc- 
 tions to spread the news and the conjectures. 
 
 The next day Dame Priest called upon the doctor'* 
 wife ; and after various professions of friendly interest, 
 and matronly readiness to aid the young wife by 
 counsel or sympathy, she asked to be shown over the 
 house. Molly, a little proud of her new dignity and 
 possessions, complied with friendly alacrity, and dis- 
 played the pretty parlor, not half so dismal as that 
 which had originally contained most of the furniture ; 
 for Dr. LeBaron had insisted upon a wide, sunny 
 window filled with boxes of flowering plants, and had 
 provided two or three good pictures to ornament the 
 walls, and advised in the less formal arrangement of 
 the furniture. On the other side of the front door 
 was the more usual sitting-room, with Molly's work- 
 table, an open fireplace ready piled with light wood 
 for the first chilly evening, and some comfortable 
 chairs, as comfort was then understood. 
 
 "And this door? " demanded the visitor, laying hei 
 hand upon the latch of the one her topographical 
 instincts told her was that of the study containing the 
 secret stair, as it was already called. 
 
 "Oh! that is my husband's office," said Molly 
 calmly ; " and I think he is ttere now, so we will not
 
 286 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 disturb him. Here is our little dining-room ; and here 
 the kitchen, which you see Desire keeps so nicely it 
 is the best room in the house. Then, will you come 
 up stairs?" 
 
 '' I don't care if I do," replied Dame Priest, whose 
 whole visit had tended to this point. So up stairs 
 they went, looked into the guest-room, with its chill 
 and formal appointments ; into the sunny little bed- 
 room devoted to Desire Billings : the great unfinished 
 kitchen-chamber, where already a modest little pile of 
 undesirable furniture represented its future use as a 
 lumber-room ; and finally Mistress LeBaron, with an 
 effort to hide her own delight under an assumption of 
 carelessness, threw open the door of the room over 
 the sitting-room, and said, 
 
 " This is my own room." 
 
 " Yours and the doctor's, you mean, my dear," cor- 
 rected the elder matron; and Molly pleasantly re- 
 plied, 
 
 " Why, of course. It would not be mine at all if it 
 were not his ; for I should not be his wife." 
 
 Margery Priest stared a little \ for the sweet secu- 
 rity of love thrilling in Molly's voice was inharmonious 
 with the unhappiness she had come prepared to 
 probe. 
 
 "Well," said she reluctantly at last, "I'm glad 
 you're so comfortable, dear ; and this is really a beauti- 
 ful setting-out. What nice furniture, and what lovely 
 curtains ! Did you do them yourself? " 
 
 As she asked the innocent-seeming question, Dame 
 Priest approached the bed closely as if to examine the
 
 THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 287 
 
 needlework, and glanced shrewdly between the cur- 
 tains ; but the smooth and unwrinkled exterior told no 
 tales. Evidently the fortress was not to be surprised, 
 or taken by siege ; a coup dc main must be attempt- 
 ed ; and without saying a word Dame Priest turned, 
 and raised the latch of the door answering to that of 
 the study in the room below. It was fastened inside, 
 and her vigorous tug resulted merely in the shaip 
 tingle of her own fingers as they slipped from the 
 latch. Molly smiled and said nothing; but having 
 gone so far, the inquisitor threw discretion to the 
 winds, and boldly inquired, 
 
 "Where does that door lead, Mistress LeBaron?" 
 
 "To my husband's dressing-room," replied Molly 
 briefly. 
 
 "And does he keep it locked against you, poor 
 child ? " demanded the dame compassionately. 
 
 " No ; for I never tried to open it," said Molly, turn- 
 ing to leave the room ; but her visitor detained her by 
 a grasp upon her arm, while she said, 
 
 " Child, you need not try to hide it from me, that 
 am a woman old enough to be your mother, and have 
 manieJ girls of my own. You've married a foreigner, 
 French or German or Italian, some say one, and 
 some another ; and now he's treating you as those men 
 always do treat their wives, having his separate bed- 
 chamber, and separate doors to let in nobody knows 
 who all, and you his lawful wife locked out. It's a 
 shame, I say ; and if there's no one else to take your 
 part, you poor motherless child, I will ; and I'll speak 
 to that man myself, and tell him he's town-talk already,
 
 288 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN 
 
 with his hammocks, and his dressing-rooms, and his 
 secret staircases, and private doors ; and you just as 
 sweet and pretty a wife as any man need ask ! " 
 
 She paused, more from failure of breath than of 
 words, and, putting her arms round Molly's neck, 
 planted a vigorous kiss upon her cheek, finding it 
 im]>ossible to reach her averted lips. The young wife 
 received the caress, and released herself from the 
 embrace gently but decidedly. 
 
 " You are really very kind, madame," said she in 
 the calm, sonorous tone from which her voice seldom 
 varied ; " and if you would like to speak to my hus- 
 band at once, I will bring you to him." 
 
 "Well, I'm ready. I never gave way before 
 prince or potentate yet ; and I'm not in terror of any 
 mortal man," asseverated the dame, considerably star- 
 tled at this prompt acceptance of her offer, and not a 
 little aghast at the idea of direct collision with the 
 doctor to whom she had never spoken. But without 
 further parley, the doctor's wife rapidly led the way 
 down stairs and through the sitting-room to the door 
 of the office, which she opened without hesitation. 
 Dr. LeBaron sat in a leathern arm-chair beside the 
 open window, looking into his newly-planted garden, 
 reading a foreign newspaper, and spoiling the sweet 
 summer air with the fumes of a pipe. 
 
 As his wife and her guest appeared, he rose, laid 
 aside the pipe, and bowed with somewhat ceremo- 
 nious politeness. Molly at once explained her errand. 
 
 " Dr. LeBaron, this lady is Mistress Priest, whom I 
 believe you do not know. She has somewhat to s?.y
 
 THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 2&) 
 
 to you ; and, as it also concerns me, I will, if it please 
 you, stay and listen." 
 
 " May I offer you a chair, madame?" said the doc- 
 tor, placing one for each lady, and then seating him- 
 self with grave professional attention. Margery Priest 
 felt herself daunted far more than when she had en- 
 countered a drunken Indian in the woods, and only 
 preserved her scalp by personal prowess. She glanced 
 from the doctor's handsome, haughty, and expectant 
 face, to the severe and threatening features of his wife, 
 colored scarlet, cleared her throat, and desperately 
 began, 
 
 " Well, you see, doctor, your having that hammock 
 has made a good deal of talk ; and I thought, Mistress 
 LeBaron being so young a woman, and an orphan as I 
 understand, I might speak to her as I would to a 
 daughter of my own. I'm sure I feel like a mother to 
 her already ; and so I thought I'd speak to her, and 
 and" 
 
 Her voice died out in a little nervous gasp ; and Dr. 
 LeBaron waited gravely, politely, but in vain, for the 
 end of the- chaotic sentence. At last he said, 
 
 " I fear, madame, I hardly understand you as yet. 
 \ )u feel like a mother to Mistress LeBaron, for which 
 she and I are deeply grateful ; but why that amiable 
 feeling on your part involves the displeasure of the 
 town at my owning a hammock, is not plain to my dull 
 mind." 
 
 "Why, you have a separate room, and a private 
 door, and a secret staircase ! " exclaimed Dame 
 Priest, clutching her departing courage with both 
 nands, and speaking very loud.
 
 290 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "True, madame, and then?" asked the doctor in 
 a tone of silken courtesy. 
 
 "Why why well, but you're a married man, 
 aren't you ? " 
 
 " Happily I am, madame." 
 
 "Well then, doctor, to speak out plain, we think 
 here in Plymouth that married men have no need of 
 any room except their wife's." 
 
 " And you have been selected by the town officers 
 to convey their mind to us? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! I don't claim any thing of the kind. I 
 only came in a friendly way, to tell Mistress LeBaron 
 that that" 
 
 " That you felt like a mother to her. Ah, yes ! 1 
 understand," said the doctor gayly. "But it is the 
 fashion in most countries, madame, for the mother, 
 when her daughter is married, to make over her 
 guardianship to the husband, at least until he proves 
 himself unworthy of the trust. When my wife feels 
 me to be thus unworthy, I doubt not she will apply to 
 you without delay for comfort and protection. Might 
 I ask you to wait for that day before again putting 
 yourself to this trouble?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the dame, bewildered at a speech 
 sounding so deferential, and yet, as she dimly sus- 
 pected, so baffling in its meaning. 
 
 " And now," pursued the doctor, " since you have 
 mentioned my poor little domestic arrangements, 
 allow me to show them to you. This door, opening 
 upon the alley at the side of my garden, is what you 
 mention as the private door, I presume. It is intended
 
 THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 2QI 
 
 for the use of my patients; and I think it is bettei 
 than for them to pass through my wife's sitting-room 
 to arrive at the office, do not you ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, doctor, I suppose it is." 
 
 "Very well. Then here is the secret staircase, 
 opening by this door without other fastening than a 
 latch, and obvious to every one entering the office. 
 Will you go up?" 
 
 Without reply, Mistress Priest climbed the steep 
 and narrow stair, and through a door at the top passed 
 into a small room, containing many objects she had 
 never before seen and at which she stared open- 
 mouthed. Dr. LeBaron gravely pointed them out : 
 
 " This, madame, is a dressing-case of foreign work- 
 manship, and more usually found in older countries 
 than here perhaps ; still, not dangerous to the public 
 peace or to household morality. These are shaving- 
 brushes and razors; these are called tweezers, and 
 this is a flesh-brush to be used in a dry bath ; those 
 are English boot-hooks, and this is a powdering appara- 
 tus. Here is the closet for my clothes, and this for my 
 boots " 
 
 " Well, there's the hammock anyway ! " exclaimed 
 Dame Priest triumphantly, as she pointed at the 
 obnoxious article slung across one end of the little 
 room, and neatly furnished with the bedding described 
 by Desire Billings. 
 
 "Yes, madame, there is the hammock anyway, as 
 you justly observe. Pray, madame, did you ever 
 swing in a hammock? " 
 
 "I? No, indeed, doctor."
 
 2Q2 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "In that case, madame, you have no idea of the 
 salubrious and recuperative effects of its motion ; seda- 
 tive yet exhilarating, monotonous yet not stultify- 
 ing" 
 
 "I don't know what any of those long words 
 mean," interposed Mrs. Priest sullenly. 
 
 " Then, madame, you can never understand why I 
 keep a hammock in my dressing-room," replied the 
 doctor gravely. "Mistress LeBaron has studied the 
 subject, however, and may explain it to you." 
 
 "Does she ever get into the thing?" demanded 
 Mistress Priest eagerly. 
 
 "Whenever she chooses," replied the doctor with 
 gravity.
 
 DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 
 
 A YEAR passed by, a year of sweet content to 
 Mary LeBaron, of revolution to her husband; 
 for in every day of it he laid aside some jot or tittle 
 of the old life, and by just so much adapted himself 
 to the new. Molly silently watched this process, and 
 with rare self-control made no comment, either upon 
 what was laid aside, or what assumed. In the very 
 dawn of her married history she had comprehended 
 and accepted her part in her husband's life, and there 
 remained content. He had told her that from his 
 past she was forever excluded; and, remembering 
 Lot's wife, she never looked back. She soon under- 
 stood also that all comment upon his looks, spirits, or 
 especially his silences, were unwelcome, and after a 
 little she never made them : she found that all as- 
 sumptions as to his nationality came under the for- 
 bidden head; and she soon said that she "did not 
 know," when asked if her husband were a Frenchman ; 
 she perceived that he abhorred giving account of his 
 movements during absence, or even of mentioning 
 what persons he might have met, and she never set 
 up that domestic tribunal before which so many good 
 wives nightly arraign their husbands. Quick in all his
 
 294 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 perceptions, LeBaron was not slow to notice this 
 silent submission to his wishes, and as silently re- 
 warded it by a large admixture of respect and admira- 
 tion in the love he never had ceased to entertain for his 
 wife. He was none the less reticent certainly, and the 
 spaces of his life wherein he chose to be alone re- 
 mained closed as rigorously against her as all the rest 
 of the world : but there were pleasant paths of daily 
 life wherein he delighted to walk beside her; there 
 were hours of happiest intercourse wherein he fed her 
 mind with knowledge gathered in many a foreign 
 clime, or from books of which she had never heard. 
 He thrust aside for her the narrowing walls of seclu- 
 sion and inexperience, and gave her, through love of 
 him, that liberal education credited to the lovers of 
 fair Lady Mary Montague. 
 
 In fact, the LeBarons were an exceptionally happy 
 couple ; and yet a weaker woman would have been 
 miserable in Molly's place, and a less self-contained 
 man would have shown upon the surface the pains and 
 struggles with which the citizen of the world cramped 
 himself into the narrow sphere of the village doctor. 
 True, this sphere was always and rapidly enlarging, 
 as the fame of the thorough-bred, daring, and intelli- 
 gent surgeon spread through the country-side ; so that 
 after two or three years his practice extended, so to 
 speak, over a radius of at least a hundred miles, since 
 his advice was sought from that distance in cases of 
 difficult surgery or mysterious disease. Among his 
 townsmen, and those who saw him most constantly, 
 but one opinion was ever heard as to his skill, his
 
 DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 295 
 
 industry, or his benevolence \ but at least two very 
 varying opinions were held and proclaimed as re- 
 garded his social character and behavior, one class 
 of persons finding him brief, sharp, self-asserting, even 
 insolent of demeanor ; others complaining that he ridi- 
 culed their alarms, and laughed at their symptoms; 
 while the poor, the humble, the timid, and the unfor- 
 tunate declared themselves healed more by the doctor's 
 patient and tireless sympathy, courteous attention, and 
 charitable remembrance of all their needs, than by his 
 physic ; and the fourth and smallest class of persons, 
 those who showed themselves reasonable and con- 
 siderate, courteous and delicate, said that if there was 
 but one gentleman in the American Colonies, that 
 gentleman was Dr. LeBaron. 
 
 It was in the third year of his marriage, and the 
 second of his son's iife, that the doctor was sum- 
 moned late one evening to attend a sick man at the 
 Bunch of Grapes. He went at once, and first en- 
 countered his stanch friend and partisan the buxom 
 landlady, who greeting him heartily, said, 
 
 "Yes, doctor, there is a gentleman up-stairs who 
 wants you. He came in ' The Nautilus,' just down 
 from Boston with a cargo of groceries and English 
 wares. We have some first-rate Hollands and some 
 white sugar aboard, if you are, wanting any at home : 
 and when Cap'n Storms came up, this passenger came 
 along too ; and the cap'n he said he was a Boston 
 gentleman, that being but poorly had tried the sea-trip 
 for his health, but could not abide the living on board, 
 and so was e'en worse than when he started, and
 
 296 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 thought he would land and go home that way ; but 
 when he got to my house, he asked had we never a 
 doctor in town ; and I, well, though he is indeed 
 a gentleman, and a man of substance, too, I could not 
 but laugh in his face, and say after him, ' Never a doc- 
 tor, quotha ! Why, sir, didst never hear of the great 
 Dr. LeBaron, who ' " 
 
 " Now dame, dame, have I not forbid thee, time 
 and again, to cackle over me after that fashion? I'll 
 take thy leg off yet, if thou art so disobedient." 
 
 '"The great Dr. LeBaron,' says I, 'who is sent for 
 to New Bedford, yes, and to Boston itself, when 
 there is a matter passing the skill of their own doctors 
 and you ask, have we never a doctor ! ' So says my 
 gentleman, ' Then send for him in Heaven's name, and 
 let him cure this horrible feeling at my stomach if he 
 can.' And so I says to Zeb, 'There, man, finish your 
 supper, and run round for the doctor ; ' and so " 
 
 "Yes, yes; and he's up in the best bedroom, I'll 
 be bound?" 
 
 " That he is, doctor ; and " 
 
 But the doctor was already out of hearing, and tap- 
 ping peremptorily at the door of the best bedroom, 
 the same where we were first introduced to the medi- 
 cal faculty of Plymouth Colony during their famous 
 consultation over Dame Tilley's leg. 
 
 " Come in," said a muffled voice ; and entering at 
 once, Dr. LeBaron approached the bed, whereon lay a 
 man, covered with blankets, but fully dressed, whc 
 rose at his approach, and looked him in the face with- 
 out speaking. The doctor returned the look, at first
 
 DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 2<)J 
 
 with curiosity, then with some other and more power- 
 ful emotion, so powerful, in fact, that it suddenly 
 blanched his handsome face to a dull ashen hue, as he 
 quietly said in French, 
 
 " It is you, then, mon abbe ! " 
 
 " Yes, mon cher baron, it is one of the oldest, and I 
 t;ally think the very warmest, of your friends. What 
 joy to find you alive and well ! " And with real emo- 
 tion the abbe' embraced his former pupil after the effu- 
 sive style of his nation and his epoch. The doctor 
 rather submitted to, than returned, the embrace, and 
 suddenly sat down. The abbe" looked at him keenly 
 for some moments, then said, 
 
 " You are not glad to see me, mon baron" 
 
 " Truth to tell, abbe" , you enter my presenV sphere 
 of life in so comet-like or meteoric a fashion that I 
 am a little afraid of you." 
 
 " Has three or four years sufficed to do avay with 
 all the old system, and establish a new one, in which I 
 have no place?" asked Despard in a tone of real 
 grief. LeBaron sadly shook his head. 
 
 " I had hoped so. At this moment I am not sure. 
 I have tried hard enough to forget." 
 
 He lapsed into gloomy reverie ; and the priest 
 looked at him with curiosity and impatience, trying to 
 gauge as rapidly as possible the changes that time had 
 wrought, and the most accessible present point of 
 approach. At last he said, 
 
 " My friend, I have one distinct errand to you. In 
 fact, I am sent as part of my penance for a very 
 serious fault, to make a certain acknowledgment to
 
 298 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 you ; and this would have brought me, even without 
 my earnest desire to see you once more." 
 
 "And this acknowledgment is " 
 
 "Briefly this. I told you in Quebec that I had 
 not married you to Mary Wilder." 
 
 " Yes : but we have been married since." 
 
 " Not by a priest, not in a church, I hope ! " 
 
 " No, by a magistrate." 
 
 " I am relieved, for the sacrament must not be pro- 
 faned by repetition ; and you were really married by 
 that hasty midnight service, garbled and shortened 
 though it was." 
 
 "And did you know it when you tried to persuade 
 me to turn my back upon my wife, and return to 
 France to marry another woman? " asked the doctor 
 sternly. 
 
 " No : at least I was uncertain ; and I am confident 
 now, as I was then, that such a ceremony, the mar- 
 riage not being consummated, could have been set 
 aside without trouble. But still it was a marriage, 
 consented to by the parties, and witnessed, if not 
 regularly conducted, by a priest; and I have been 
 severely censured, both for trifling with the sacrament, 
 and for leading you into doubt as to the validity of 
 your marriage. You will pardon me, man baron ? " 
 
 "The more readily, friend, that your temptation 
 never took hold upon my will for an instant. The 
 only effect of the doubt you suggested was to make 
 me submit very gladly to the civil ceremony, which 
 was desirable at any rate for the public satisfaction." 
 
 " And you are happily married? "
 
 DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 299 
 
 " Most happily. I am sorry that I cannot invite 
 you to my home to witness my felicity ; but my wife 
 would recognize you, and not for the world would 
 I let her suppose the dead past could find its resur- 
 rection in her home." 
 
 "Does no ghost from out those early years ever 
 confront you, then ? " asked the priest meaningly. The 
 doctor laughed somewhat cynically, and replied, 
 
 " Well, yes. My boy is the image of my father ; and 
 I could not refrain from a ban mot in that connection, 
 whose humor has hitherto been confined to my own 
 breast. I have named the boy Lazarus, as one called 
 from what I fancied a sealed tomb." 
 
 "A ghastly jest, and not too reverent, my son," 
 replied the priest severely. " And what have you to 
 say upon the matter of religion?" 
 
 " Nothing, man fere, except that I am no rene- 
 
 " That is at least something, and I have news for 
 you in that direction. What do you think of a tiny 
 yet vigorous shoot of the venerable faith planted even 
 in the town of Boston, that stronghold of the Puri- 
 tans, those schismatics of the schismatical Church of 
 England, to whom the altar is an abomination, and 
 even the blessed crucifix a mere idolatrous emblem ? " 
 
 " And you are the gardener of this daring bit of 
 transplantation?" asked LeBaron sceptically. 
 
 " Under God, and my superiors in the Church, yes ; 
 and already there is a fair and promising beginning. 
 We own a house, and in that house is a chapel, and 
 to that chapel resort a few of the faithful, whose num
 
 3OO A NAMELESS WOBLEMAtf. 
 
 bers shall yet increase ; and we have the germ of a 
 school and of a hospital supported by the willing 
 work and ample means of certain Christian ladies, 
 not regular sisters of any order, but devoted for a 
 time to these good works." 
 
 "But is this allowed in Boston?" 
 
 " If the least suspicion of our tire character arose. 
 I suppose neither sex nor age would prevent our all 
 being hanged beside the Quakers who were execuied 
 the other day for their religious opinions." 
 
 " Then you live in secrecy and constant danger." 
 
 "Yes. Has the Church ever avoided danger, or 
 counted the lives of her servants more highly than 
 the harvest of souls they may gather into her fold ? " 
 
 " It is true, father ; and yet these people among 
 whom I live, and those of Boston whom I know, are 
 a God-fearing, moral, and charitable people. Is it so 
 needful that all men find heaven by one road? Is 
 there not a gate for the Gentiles as well as for the 
 Jews?" 
 
 The priest started from his chair in horror, and, 
 grasping his pupil by the shoulder, cried in a voice of 
 unfeigned emotion, 
 
 " My son, my son, it had been less grief to me to 
 see you in your coffin than to have heard such a ques- 
 tion from your lips ! The taint of heresy has cor- 
 rupted a soul made glorious by the Lord for his own 
 service. The unbelieving wife hath stolen away the 
 faith of the believing husband unequally yoked with 
 her" 
 
 " Hold there, father ! " interposed the doctor warn-
 
 DEAD THINGS rHAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 301 
 
 ingly. " Bring no third person into this matter if you 
 would hold to the truth. I have never exchanged a 
 word upon the question of religion with my wife, 
 since she was my wife ; nor do I deserve the censures 
 you are so ready to heap upon my head. It is true 
 that I have learned toleration, even from this intol^r- 
 aot people, who could far less easily forgive my faith 
 than I their heresy ; but so far as my own belief goes, 
 it has never swerved one line, one hair's breadth, from 
 that which you yourself taught me in the first dawning 
 of my reasoning powers." 
 
 " Mon baron, will you give me proof of that decla- 
 ration?" 
 
 " My word needs no proof to establish it ; but for 
 old affection's sake I will give any proof within reason, 
 of my loyalty to the Church." 
 
 " Then, come to Boston during this next month, and 
 spend a day and night at our mission-house." 
 
 " Gladly, if that is all ; and what is more, you shall 
 confess me, and I will hear a mass and receive the 
 sacrament once again." 
 
 " That was in my plan, you may be sure ; and now 
 let us have a little chat upon worldly matters, for I 
 leave here early to-morrow morning."
 
 3O2 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 A CRUCIAL TEST. 
 
 IF for some days after his evening visit to the 
 Bunch of Grapes, Dr. LeBaron was a little more 
 moody and silent than his wont, a little more given to 
 late sitting over his books and papers in the office, or 
 long rides over the sandy and desolate country roads, 
 Molly did not question him as to the cause, and only 
 contrived to make the house and her own society the 
 more attractive when he showed a desire to seek them. 
 The baby-boy, so quaintly named, occupied a good 
 deal of his mother's time also ; and Molly had learned 
 to live her life without too much effort at understand- 
 ing or controlling it, so that her husband found almost 
 every day fresh cause for admiration and appreciation 
 of the love that could let the beloved object alone, 
 and the patience that was neither dullness nor sullen- 
 ness. One day he came to her as she sat Booing and 
 laughing to the child, who, fresh from his bath, was 
 struggling manfully in her lap against the primal curse 
 of clothing, hung over her for a moment, then, with 
 one kiss upon her lips and another upon the cheek ot 
 little Lazarus, he said, 
 
 " Sweetheart, I am going to Boston, and shall not 
 be home for thr.ee dqpg. I have arranged with Hallo-
 
 A CRUCIAL TEST. 303 
 
 well about my patients, and sent forward one of the 
 horses to the Halfway House, so I shall make the 
 journey in one day each way, and be home on Mon- 
 day evening. You are content? " 
 
 " Of course, Francois, as content as I can be when 
 you are not beside me. You might have let me pack 
 some clothes, though." 
 
 "I have all I wish in my saddle-portmanteau; so 
 good-by, love, and have a care of young master." 
 
 "I shall have nothing else to care for until his 
 father comes home," said Molly, hastily wrapping the 
 child in a blanket, and following her husband to the 
 door, where his great black horse, called Centaur, 
 stood pawing and neighing in his impatience to be off. 
 The doctor mounted, and, turning in the saddle for a 
 last good-by, sat for a moment looking in loving admi- 
 ration at the mother and child standing in the dark 
 doorway, the morning sunshine touching the red lights 
 of her bronze hair into a golden aureole, and shining 
 pleasantly upon her calm and matronly beauty, the 
 pure and steady radiance of the eyes uplifted to hei 
 husband's face, and the unconscious grace of her 
 stately figure ; in her arms lay the noble boy, his baby 
 face turned with grave attention upon horse and rider, 
 and one hand masterfully clutching a stray lock of his 
 mother's hair. A fair picture, and a winsome one, 
 thought Dr. Francois LeBaron, loosening the rein, and 
 allowing the great black horse to launch powerfully for- 
 ward ; and as he .ode through sun and shade, the pic- 
 ture journeyed with him over sandy plain, and fragrant 
 pine-forest, and long stretches of half-settled country,
 
 304 A AAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 until at noon he broke his fast and changed his horse 
 at the little inn known for more than a century later 
 as the Halfway House between Plymouth and Boston. 
 
 At night he arrived in the latter town ; and, having 
 placed his horse in the stable of the old Exchange 
 Coffee House, he set out on foot to find the place to 
 which Father Despard had directed him. But this was 
 not so easy a matter as it sounds to us of to-day : for 
 the streets were neither numbered nor lighted, and 
 many of them not even named , so that it was not 
 until more than an hour of rambling through the 
 crowded and irregular district now known as the 
 North End of Boston, that the visitor knocked at 
 the door of a large house standing in its own garden a 
 little way from the street, and so dark and forlorn in 
 appearance as to suggest the death or absence of every 
 living creature within its walls. 
 
 After a long delay, the door was cautiously opened 
 so far as an inside chain would allow, by a man, who 
 gruffly asked, in an Irish accent, 
 
 "What's your will, sir?" 
 
 "Is Master Desmond within?" replied the visitor, 
 using the alias assumed by his friend while dwelling in 
 the camp of his enemies. 
 
 "I'll see, sir." And, leaving the door unlatched 
 but chained, the servant retreated, and soon returned, 
 followed by another dimly-seen figure, who civilly 
 asked, 
 
 "Do you wish to see me, sir? I am Master Des- 
 mond." 
 
 "And I, Dr. LeBaron," replied the guest.
 
 A CRUCIAL TEST. 305 
 
 " My dear friend, is it really you ! " exclaimed the 
 master of the house, letting fall the chain, and throw- 
 ing wide the door. " You will excuse our precautions, 
 but" 
 
 "Not a word, not a word, my friend," interposed 
 the guest heartily. "I understand that the Church 
 Militant naturally intrenches herself, and " 
 
 " Hush, my dear fellow, not a word, I beg of you, 
 until we are safe in my sanctum ! To be sure, Patrick 
 O'Donoghue, who opened the door to you, is stanch 
 and loyal, an importation of my own from his native 
 Ireland ; but one never knows walls have ears : but 
 here we are, as safe as in the Quirinal." He opened 
 the door of a small room, only to be approached 
 through two others, and displayed a cosey retreat, 
 warmed and lighted in this chill October evening by a 
 small wood fire, and well supplied with books, com- 
 fortable furniture, and a round table covered with the 
 preparations for supper. 
 
 " I am just in time, it seems," said LeBaron, smiling, 
 and rubbing his hands. " I remember that as no one 
 knew how to fast more rigidly than yourself, abbe', so 
 no one better understood how to feast, or could 
 manage to do so on more slender materials." 
 
 " You flatter me, my son ; and yet why should not 
 Religious study how best to utilize the abundant gift 
 of Providence ? Do you remember the ragout I once 
 made from an amiable and unfortunate cat when we 
 were upon our retreat into Canada? " 
 
 " Do I not ? And the soup from the bones the 
 farmer's wife had thrown out her back door."
 
 306 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Yes. But here comes Patrick with our supper ; 
 and here is Father Pinot, my coadjutor and assistant, 
 who will be glad to see you after having heard so 
 much of you." 
 
 The younger priest, a vivacious and agreeable com- 
 panion, bowed courteously : a short Latin grace was 
 said, and the three men sat down. It was years since 
 LeBaron had found himself so nearly in his native ele- 
 ment as to-night; and he abandoned himself to an 
 hour of convivial enjoyment very different from the 
 staid feasts at which he was often called to assist in 
 the town of his adoption, or even from the pleasant but 
 simple and brief meals at which he and Molly sat 
 habitually in their own house. Here the cookery was 
 delicate and refined, purely French in its character, 
 and accompanied by French wines ; the service was 
 admirable ; and the two priests, laying aside for the 
 moment all that is severe or ascetic in their profession, 
 showed themselves in the light of cultivated and expe- 
 rienced citizens of the world, quick, witty, apt at quo- 
 tation or allusion, and with a range of conversation 
 not to be found among more quiet and homely folk. 
 It was even a luxury for LeBaron to speak freely in his 
 native language : for his English, although scholarly 
 and sufficiently fluent, was always a little formal, and 
 often spoken with consciousness of the effort at men^ 
 tal translation; for it is a rare and ultimate stage 
 in Ihe acquirement of a foreign tongue when one's 
 thoughts shape themselves to its idioms, and Dr. 
 LeBaron never fully reached it. 
 
 A clock upon the mantle struck the half-hour aftef
 
 A CRUCIAL TEST. 307 
 
 eight ; and Father Pinot, glancing at his superior, grew 
 suddenly grave and silent. Despard nodded slightly, 
 and pushed back his chair. 
 
 "You will join us in the chapel for compline, at 
 nine o'clock ; will you not, doctor? " asked he of hi3 
 guest, who had begged him to use no title but this. 
 
 " With pleasure, if you will show me the way thith- 
 er," replied he, rising from the table. 
 
 " Oh, it is not time yet ! Father Pinot and I have 
 some preparation to make ; and it is our rule not to 
 allow any festivity to exceed an hour's time. If you 
 will remain here, and amuse yourself with a book, Pat- 
 rick shall summon you at nine, or a few moments 
 earlier." 
 
 The priests left the room ; and LeBaron, not caring 
 to read just then, threw himself back in his chair, and 
 sat staring into the fire, his mind filled with chaotic 
 thoughts, memories, and associations, until a touch 
 upon his shoulder and Patrick's rich Milesian accents 
 recalled him to the moment and the occasion. Fol- 
 lowing the man through a passage, opening behind 
 one ol the bookcases, he presently found himself in a 
 small and richly ornamented chapel, cunningly devised, 
 as he afterward found, to appear from the outside like 
 a rough addition to the house, without windows or 
 exterior doors. Quite half this room, divided from the 
 rest by a light bronze screen or railing, was occupied 
 by the altar and chancel, within which stood the two 
 priests, attended by a boy-acolyte who was busily 
 lighting a censer in a little sacristy opening into the 
 chancel. Outside the screen, with LeBaron, knelt
 
 308 A NAtoKtESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Patrick and several women dressed in semi-religious 
 robes, their heads covered by veils. 
 
 The service began ; and as the words and intona- 
 tions familiar to his childhood and youth fell upon the 
 ears of the guest, as the odor of incense reached his 
 nostrils accompanied by the silvery clank of the chains 
 of the censer, he covered his face with his hands, and, 
 bowing his head, wondered if this were indeed a vivid 
 dream, or if it were not rather true that the past 
 bleak, bitter years of exile had been the dream, and 
 this was reality. 
 
 From this reverie he was roused by the softly- 
 chanted strains of the vesper hymn in which he had 
 joined so many times at Montarnaud ; and, listening 
 eagerly without raising his head, he seemed to hear 
 again the pure and penetrating tones of the voice with 
 which his had so loved to chime in those not-yet-for- 
 gotten years, that voice so peculiar in its timbre, so 
 deadly sweet in its fearless heights, so caressing in its 
 depths, that when Molly Wilder first sang to him in 
 the lonely sea-side farmhouse, his greatest pleasure in 
 hearing her had been that no tone of her voice resem- 
 bled that voice. And now it seemed close beside him : 
 its subtle charm piercing his very brain, and sending 
 the blood tingling from heart to finger-tips and back 
 again with sickening force and tumult 
 
 " Ave Maria, Maria sanctissima I 
 Ora pro nobis, ora pro me I " 
 
 sang the voice \ and surely it was no vision, no mem- 
 ory, that could sigh out the familiar words in that
 
 A CRUCIAL TEST. 309 
 
 tender, loving tone, so vividly recalled, so never to be 
 forgotten. Slowly and unwillingly LeBaron lifted his 
 head, and looked toward the little group of women 
 kneeling at the other extremity of the screen; but 
 the veils hid all the faces, and even the outline of the 
 head and shoulders : and, as the last words of the hymn 
 died upon the fragrant air, all bowed low their heads, 
 awaiting the benediction. 
 
 When LeBaron raised his, he was alone, except 
 for the servant who stood patiently awaiting him. Fol- 
 lowing, without noticing that it was through another 
 passage than that by which he had entered the chapel, 
 LeBaron presently found himself in a small and dimly- 
 lighted room, where beside a marble figure of the Ma- 
 donna stood a veiled woman ; her black robes con- 
 trasting vividly with the cold whiteness of the statue 
 upon which she leaned as if for protection and confi- 
 dence As the disturbed and already suspicious visit- 
 or stood looking at her, while the door silently closed 
 behind him, the woman swiftly advanced a step, and 
 knelt at his feet, throwing back her veil as she did so, 
 and lifting her beautiful, passionate face to his in 
 mute and anguished appeal for pity and forgiveness. 
 
 LeBaron started, and quivered all through his form, 
 as quivers the lion when the hunter's spear reaches his 
 heart ; but he did not speak, and it was she who pres- 
 ently murmured, 
 
 " Francois ! Have not you one word for me, after 
 all these years?" 
 
 " What word, Valerie ? What is to be said between 
 as two?"
 
 310 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 "Forgiveness. I betrayed and denied you when 
 you had the right to expect my loyalty." 
 
 " It is forgiven long ago." 
 
 " Forgiven coldly and formally, but not forgiven as 
 you used to forgive my faults, Francois ! Not for- 
 gotten." 
 
 " Yes, forgotten." 
 
 " Your voice does not sound so, Francois ; and I 
 know every tone of the voice for whose sound I have 
 so longed, so pined." 
 
 "Yes, forgotten, Valerie, but not easily. You and 
 your falseness became indissolubly one in my memory, 
 and to forget one I was obliged to banish both." 
 
 " And I am forgotten ! " 
 
 The words wailed out upon the quiet air like the 
 cry of the spirit denied the entrance to Paradise, and 
 LeBaron felt a great and terrible pity stealing over his 
 heart. Involuntarily his hand extended itself toward 
 that bowed head, and words of gentlest soothing rose 
 to his lips ; but with a mighty effort he folded his arms 
 across his breast, and, moving a step away, said gently 
 and coldly, 
 
 "Pray rise and seat yourself, Valerie. I have al- 
 ready assured you of my forgiveness if you care to 
 have it ; and, as my brother's wife and widow, I may 
 think of you with interest and well-wishing. All else 
 was ended for us when I left France." 
 
 " Say, rather, when you fell in love with another 
 woman ! " exclaimed Valerie, springing to her feet, and 
 confronting him passionately. " For, after all, it is only 
 you who have been false to our early love : I never
 
 A CRUCIAL TEST. $11 
 
 pretended to love Gaston, I never pretended to have 
 forgotten you." 
 
 "Do not make a boast of it, madame," replied 
 LeBaron sternly. " If you married a man consciously 
 loving another, and then cherished the love your own 
 act had made guilty, let shame keep you silent upon 
 both scores." 
 
 " Francois ! Francois ! Have you no pity? And I 
 have wearied so for one look, one word ; and now you 
 are so cruel ! " 
 
 "It is you, Valerie, who are cruel to both of us. 
 Child ! Do you suppose my heart is ice or stone ? By 
 this day's work you have destroyed for me the quiet 
 of months, years perhaps. Cruel ! What cruelty 
 could you have devised, had you been my bitterest 
 foe, more subtle than thus to come, and with every 
 accessory of our purest and best association, force 
 back upon my memory and my heart the images, the 
 feelings, the bereavements, that I have spent years in 
 uprooting and throwing aside, though in doing so I 
 have shaken my nature to its depths ? It is you who 
 have shown yourself cruel, insensate, selfish." 
 
 "You still love me, then, since I can make you 
 suffer ! O Francois I " 
 
 And, gliding to his side, she laid her hand upon his 
 folded arms, and looked up in his face, her eyes 
 humid, her lips parted, the subtle fragrance of her 
 hair and dress floating around her in an atmosphere 
 of intoxicating languor. He did not move hand nor 
 foot ; nor, though his face grew deadly pale, did his 
 eyes flinch from the full regard of hers- At last he
 
 312 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Love you, Valerie de Montarnaud ! Love you ! 
 There is not a woman on earth whom it would be so 
 impossible for me to love." 
 
 "Ohl" 
 
 "Yes, it hurts you; and I am sorry to pain you. 
 There are not even in my heart those poor dregs of 
 love that make us enjoy the pang we can inflict upon 
 her who has deceived and betrayed us. I do not 
 even hate you, Valerie : after this, I do not even care 
 to avoid you. I thank you for the work of this last 
 five minutes; for you have put forth all your art to 
 re-kindle the fire whose ashes I had feared to disturb, 
 and you have shown me that they are wholly cold and 
 dead. Are you content?" 
 
 " Content ! " repeated Madame de Montarnaud in 
 a tone of withering scorn, " yes, for I see that your 
 peasant wife has dragged you utterly down to her own 
 level. I cannot love a man who is no longer a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " If it soothes your mortification to speak dispara- 
 gingly of me, you are very welcome to do so, madame. 
 As to my wife, it is better that you should not speak of 
 her at all ; since she is a woman far above your com- 
 prehension, very far above my deserts. Pure as the 
 angels, true as light, unselfish and devoted and loving, 
 and with a strong, brave heart that only needs to know 
 the right to follow it, she is not of those among 
 whom you chose your life, madame, nor have you the 
 ability to gauge her. But with her, and with her 
 child, lie all my hopes in the future, all my joy in the 
 present; for I love and trust her as I never could
 
 A CRUCIAL TEST. 313 
 
 have loved and trusted you, Valerie, even had you 
 been true to me." 
 
 He left the room, nor did she seek to detain him. 
 In the study he found Father Despard, who waited for 
 him with ill- concealed anxiety. LeBaron looked at 
 him sternly and reproachfully. 
 
 " What was the motive of your plot ? " asked he, 
 leaning upon the mantel, and looking down upon the 
 priest, who sat designedly in the shade. 
 
 " Simply this, my son," replied he fluently : " I am 
 in this place as a propagandist : my only motive is the 
 nurture and spread of our holy faith in this new 
 country. Madame de Montarnaud is also absorbed, 
 body and soul, in this good work ; and it is her money 
 which largely supports the mission. Now, you are the 
 heir, after her child, of most of her property ; and it is 
 certainly desirable that you should be consulted as to 
 its disposition. Again, you are a Catholic, detached 
 from the influences and rites of the Church; and 
 it is most desirable that you should be led to join 
 with us who represent her, however feebly, and should 
 be brought into charity and sympathy with your fellow- 
 laborers. Now, Madame de Montarnaud felt that you 
 were not in charity with her, and fancied that by a 
 personal interview your differences might be adjusted. 
 I knew, that, if I warned you of her presence, you 
 would not visit me ; and I consented to this little ruse, 
 by wlu'ch I brought together two of my children, tern 
 porarily estranged, and joined them once more as r.o- 
 laborers in the holy cause which must tct all of us be 
 so much dearer than any personal prejudices or wishes. 
 Was I wrong, my dear pupil? "
 
 314 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " If your explanation is perfectly sincere, father, 1 
 should say that you were not so much wrong as - 
 pardon me stupid ; and that, I had never supposed 
 to be one of your failings. You probably knew be- 
 forehand, as well as I know now, the nature of the 
 explanation likely to ensue between Madame de Mont- 
 arnaud and myself; and had not my heart been 
 guarded by a very vivid and very honest love for my 
 wife, I can hardly tell the extent of the mischief 
 likely to have sprung from your amiable and innocent 
 .ittle device. As it is, no harm is done, unless, and 
 it would be an odd bit of retributive justice on your 
 head, mon pere, unless Madame de Montarnaud 
 finds her zeal for mission-work suddenly cooled, and 
 goes back to France, carrying her money with 
 ner." 
 
 " H'm ! " ejaculated the priest starting a little, but 
 after a moment re-settling himself placidly as he re- 
 plied, - 
 
 " Fore-warned is fore-armed, my son. I will terrify 
 madame by letting her see that I dimly suspect a 
 motive in her zeal which she has never dared to 
 confess to -Tie." 
 
 " And now, father, I will to bed : we will have a 
 long talk to-morrow after mass; and I shall set out 
 upon my journey home as soon as sunset allows me 
 to travel, as soon as Sunday is over, that is." 
 
 "What, you yield to these Puritan edicts 1" ex- 
 claimed the priest contemptuously. 
 
 " If I did not, I should taste Puritan discipline," 
 replied the doctor tranquilly: "besides, father, you
 
 A CRUCIAL TEST. 315 
 
 must remember, as I have just been telling Madame 
 de Montarnaud, that this land is now my land, and 
 this people my people." 
 
 " But never their God your God, I hope, my son," 
 replied the priest solemnly. 
 
 "Is there, then, more than one God, my father?" 
 sked LeBaron significantly.
 
 316 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE BELLE ISLE. 
 
 AND so the years went softly on in the quaint 
 town beside the sea, until Lazarus LeBaron was 
 a fine, stout lad of thirteen years, with his father's 
 stalwart Norman figure, and his mother's calm and 
 steadfast eyes. And still it was Time the Perfecter,' 
 and not Time the Destroyer, that left his mark upon' 
 Molly LeBaron's face and form, changing her girlish 
 comeliness to the stately beauty of her matronhood, 
 giving through the expansion of the mind, and greater 
 intelligence of the feelings, depth to the eyes, mobility 
 to the mouth, and a greater range of inflection to the 
 voice; while the peaceful an"i regular life, the calm 
 temper, and constant sunshine of her home, con- 
 served the delicacy of her complexion, the youthful 
 roundness of her outlines, and the smoothness of her 
 brow. 
 
 So thought her husband, idly watching her as she 
 moved around the room arranging little matters, 
 flecking away specks of dust, painting the lily of spot- 
 less cleanliness with yet an added lustre. 
 
 "Yes, doctor," she was saying, "I really think a 
 voyage would do you great good. You have been so 
 overworked through this sickly September ; and, at any
 
 THE BELLE ISLE. 317 
 
 rate, our cruel winters always tell upon you. Remem- 
 ber the cough you had last year " 
 
 " Yes ; I took cold when I was six years old, and 
 that was the result," interposed LeBaron, in the grave, 
 quizzical tone in which he met so many of his wife's 
 solicitudes, and to which she now dryly replied, 
 
 " I dare say. It was unfortunate ; but still, now that 
 you have so good a chance to make a trip to the 
 Havana and back, and cost you nothing, for Capt. 
 Pinot said before that he would take you at any time 
 for the pleasure of your company " 
 
 " Ay, but, my dear, Capt. Pinot never had my com- 
 pany long enough to find out that there is no pleasure 
 in it. Would you have me cheat the worthy mari- 
 ner?" 
 
 " Ah, Francis ! don't torment me, when I'm trying 
 to persuade thee to do thyself a service, and not to 
 think of how I'll miss thee, dear." And throwing 
 down the duster, Molly came, and, crouching at her 
 husband's side, laid her folded hands upon his breast, 
 and raised her fair face to his with an irresistible ges- 
 ture of entreaty and devotion. LeBaron stooped, and 
 kissed her tenderly, then smoothing away the hair 
 from her brow, looked long and earnestly into the 
 clear, good eyes steadfastly upraised to his. It was a 
 minute or two before either spoke ; and then he said 
 very gently, 
 
 " Molly, thou'rt a fair woman, and better than that 
 thou'rt a good woman, and strong and brave as thou 
 art sweet. I would I were a better man for thy sake, 
 dear wife."
 
 318 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 A lovely morning glow stole over the noonday 
 beauty of the upturned face ; and then it hid itself upon 
 his breast, and the arms crept up around his neck, and 
 never A word came from the fond tremulous lips, and 
 nevei a word was needed. 
 
 Tht door was suddenly thrown open ; and a bright, 
 handsome boy stood on the threshold, opened his eyes 
 a little at the unwonted sight, yet with the tact of all the 
 Montirnauds went straight on with his message as if 
 he saw nothing : 
 
 " Father, Capt. Pinot has come ashore, and bid me 
 ask if you would come off to the ' Belle Isle ' to see a 
 passenger of his, a gentleman, too ill to come ashore, 
 A nobleman, and very rich." 
 
 "Yet not noble enough nor rich enough to keep 
 himself in health, nor cure himself when ill," remarked 
 the doctor, always on the lookout to cut down any 
 aristocratic weeds springing in his son's character. 
 
 " No ; but the captain spoke as if he were a rery 
 great man, and he's not over civil generally." 
 
 " Hah ! Very great that might mean dropsy ; and 
 not over civil that may be spleen," said the doctor 
 musingly, as he stepped into the office, and changed 
 his coat and shoes. Lazarus colored a little, but 
 glanced at his mother, whose calm eyes were fixed on 
 his, and remained silent. 
 
 "Come to the wharf with me, my boy," said the 
 doctor presently emerging. " Perhaps you can in- 
 dulge in the dear delight of going off to the brig." 
 
 "That's what I like ! " exclaimed the lad gayly ; and 
 down the steep of Leyden Street they went, and along
 
 THE BELLE ISLE. 319 
 
 the wharf past Pilgrim Rock, distinctly recognized but 
 not specially honored in those early days, to where the 
 captain's gig, manned by two sturdy Jack Tars, lay 
 tossing up and down on the gay October waves. 
 
 The captain himself, a bluff yet civil Breton, stood 
 impatiently watching the doctor's approach, and, after 
 a hearty grasp of the hand, and greeting in the foreign 
 yet fluent English necessary to his traffic, gestured 
 toward the boat, saying, 
 
 " Let us go then, let us go ! This monsigneur of 
 a passenger of mine is in such a thousand devils of a 
 hurry always. Will young master go aboard? It is 
 most admirable. Quick, then. Oars ! " 
 
 "So your passenger is ill. Is it of the sea? " asked 
 the doctor tranquilly, as the boat shot away from the 
 wharf, and pursued a course, very like that of a rocking 
 horse, toward the brig. 
 
 " Not altogether," replied the captain, lowering his 
 voice to a confidential tone. "He is old and very 
 rich, and he once was young and very rich ; and one 
 naturally pays in one's latter years for the gayeties of 
 ones earlier years if one has been immoderate." 
 
 " You are a philosopher, captain." 
 
 " Well, one sees the world as one travels around it ; 
 and one finds time for thinking between Bordeaux or 
 Marseilles and Boston or Plymouth." 
 
 " It is true, my friend. And our invalid's jame ? : 
 
 " The Marquis de Vieux." 
 
 " I don't like marquises, they're unlucky to me," 
 muttered the doctor rapidly ; but Lazarus heard him, 
 and remembered the words later.
 
 320 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " And he's going to Hayti, is he ? " 
 
 " Yes : he has great estates there, and has made up 
 his mind that the climate of the tropics is just what he 
 needs to make him a boy again. Expects to find the 
 fountain of youth, you know, doctor." 
 
 And the worthy Pinot laughed uproariously at his 
 own jest, but sobered sufficiently to whisper just as the 
 boat grazed the brig's quarter, 
 
 " Better be a little careful with your patient, doctor : 
 he has the devil's own temper, but he's enormously 
 rich, and can afford it. Why, there's enough gold and 
 silver in one shape and another aboard here to buy up 
 yon little town of Plymouth altogether." 
 
 " My good Pinot, you mistake," replied LeBaron 
 quietly. " There is not enough to buy even the poor 
 doctor of Plymouth." 
 
 An hour later Dr. LeBaron, pale, silent, and ab- 
 stracted, descended the side of the " Belle Isle," and 
 was rowed ashore without speaking a word. As he 
 and his son climbed the steep street toward home, 
 however, he stopped, and, with a hand upon the boy's 
 shoulder, turned to gaze thoughtfully down at the 
 French brig gently tossing upon the incoming tide, 
 and from that upon the bright face of the lad turned 
 wistfully up toward him. But, educated in the strict 
 discipline of the age, Lazarus asked no question until 
 his father, smiling in his grave way, said, 
 
 "Well, boy, what is it?" 
 
 " I don't know, father ; only I wish the 'Belle Isle ' 
 had not put in at our harbor this trip." 
 
 " Say you so, Lazarus, say you so 1 " exclaimed his
 
 THE BELLE ISLE. 321 
 
 father in a tone more thoughtful than the boy's words 
 seemed to warrant. They walked on in silence ; but 
 just at the angle of the hill, before reaching home, the 
 doctor again laid hand upon the boy's arm, and 
 asked, 
 
 " Lazarus, art man enough to care for thy mother 
 and the home affairs some three months or maybe 
 four?" 
 
 " I'd try, father." 
 
 "Why, that's thy mother's own boy. 'I'll try' 
 means more with her, and maybe with her son, than 
 the strongest ' I will ' of most others. Go now, we'll 
 look for thee at dinner-time." 
 
 In the pleasant sitting-room, with the door open to 
 the office so that she could see the doctor's leathern 
 arm-chair beside the garden window, sat Molly sewing 
 busily, and softly singing one of the psalms with which 
 St. Paul bade men make merry. Her husband, coming 
 in, stood for a moment to watch her, then seating him- 
 self, and trifling with her work-basket, said, 
 
 " And so you think, Mistress Molly, that I had bet- 
 ter go to Hayti in the ' Belle Isle ' ? " 
 
 Molly grew pale, and the psalm died off her lips ; 
 but raising a brave face, she replied in a voice as 
 brave, 
 
 "Yes, Francis: it will be for your health, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " But what then if I stay four months, until Febru- 
 ary we will say?" 
 
 " Four months, Francis ! Is it best for you to do 
 
 80?"
 
 322 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " That is for Molly to say. There is a sick old man 
 on board the 'Belle Isle,' sick and whimsical, and 
 very rich. He is all alone but for two servants, and 
 he has quarrelled with all his kith and kin. He is 
 going to his estates in Hayti, and he will die there 
 before spring : that is a confidence, my wife." 
 
 " You needed not to tell me so," said Molly proud- 
 ly ; but her husband only tapped her lightly on the 
 cheek, a favorite caress, and went on. 
 
 "Well, this droll old gentleman, who calls himself, I 
 know not what, marquis I believe, has taken, at first 
 sight, so violent a fancy to the poorhouse doctor of 
 Plymouth Colony, that he must have him to go on the 
 voyage, and establish him on the estates. That would 
 take two' months or so ; and, as I foresee that he will 
 find himself altogether worse so soon as he leaves the 
 sea, he will cling to me as the last hope ; and, if there 
 is no other physician at hand, I can hardly leave him 
 just at once. So we must put the absence at three 
 to four months ; and my marquis of Carrabas will give 
 me in advance, here in my hand, Molly, three hun- 
 dred louis d'or, equal to three hundred pounds ster- 
 ling, as much money as I can earn in this dear 
 Plymouth of ours in three years, even reckoning the 
 ten pounds by the year for the care of the poorhouse." 
 
 " I have seen for a long time, Francis, that you were 
 rhafing at your narrow bounds ; yet do not mock at 
 the home where we have been so happy." And just a 
 little tinge of resentment colored the wife's cheek, and 
 rang through her gentle voice. LeBaron looked keenly 
 it her, and laughed in an unmirthful fashion.
 
 THE BELLE ISLE. 323 
 
 "You answer your own mind, and not my words, 
 wife," said he. "Well, what think you of my lord 
 marquis of Carrabas and his three hundred pounds?" 
 
 " I think you will go with him." 
 
 " Nay, then, by all the saints in the calendar, my 
 Grizel, I will not go with such a sending." 
 
 " How, what, what do you mean, Francis ? " 
 
 " Why, such a patient face, and such a mournful 
 voice, and such an air of resignation." And LeBaron, 
 half vexed, stood looking down at Molly half wounded ; 
 and neither spoke, until Desire, showing a flushed face 
 at the door, inquired, 
 
 "Is the doctor at home? Well, then, shall I put 
 dinner on, and be done with it early? " 
 
 " Yes, if it is ready, and you are ready, doctor," 
 said the mistress in a tone of relief; and so they sat 
 down, and before the meal was over Molly cheerfully 
 said, " I must be busy now in looking over your sum- 
 mer clothes, my dear, and seeing what else you need. 
 It will be all summer in Hayti, I suppose." 
 
 " It is the best of summers where you are, sweet," 
 replied her husband ; and so the question was decided. 
 
 Four days later the " Belle Isle " sailed out past 
 the Gurnet ; and Lazarus, standing beside his mother 
 on Burying Hill to watch the old brig out of sight, 
 suddenly inquired, 
 
 "Why did father say marquises were unlucky to 
 him, mother? What is a marquis? " 
 
 " I think they are more unlucky to us than to him, 
 Lazarus," replied Molly, turning with a sigh to go 
 down to the village where already the shadows lay 
 cold and dark.
 
 324 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 MARQUISES ARE UNLUCKY TO ME. 
 
 THE packet is in from Boston, mother ; and now 
 sure there will be a letter from father, won't 
 there ? " and Lazarus, standing close at his mother's 
 side, kissed the glossy head so often drooping as now 
 over the work in her lap. She looked up eagerly 
 enough at his words, and answered with a smile, 
 
 " God send it may be so, my boy ! Almost three 
 months, and the ' Belle Isle ' never heard fom." 
 
 " But then you know Capt. Pi not did not mean to 
 make this port on his return voyage, mother." 
 
 "No; but I thought we should hear. Well, it 
 nay be now. Go down to the wharf, Lazarus, and 
 ee if tho mail-bag has come ashore." 
 
 " Kiss une, mother, before I go." 
 
 " Why, there, dear child. But all is as God wills 
 Lazarus." 
 
 Half an hour later, when the boy returned, his 
 mother came out of the doctor's dressing-room ; and 
 ler face was very pale, but very radiant. 
 
 "There is no letter for us, mother; but Master 
 Bradford bid me say he had news that he would give 
 you for himself presently. He was talking with a 
 stranger man who came down in the schooner, a 
 sailor, I think."
 
 MARQUISES ARE UNLUCKY TO ME. $2$ 
 
 "Now God help us, my boy! If he had good 
 news, kind Master Bradford would have said it out. 
 Stay here, Lazarus, I may want you, my son, to help 
 me bear what is coming." 
 
 And turning back into the little room, so altogether 
 her husband's, Mary LeBaron shut her doors about 
 her, and sought for strength where she had so often 
 found it, and should yet so often seek it. 
 
 Lazarus gently tapped upon the door. "Master 
 Bradford is down stairs, mother." 
 
 " I will come." But when she entered the room, 
 and gave her cold hand to the venerable man, and 
 fixed her great asking eyes upon his, it was down his 
 cheek, not hers, that the tears flowed fast ; and it was 
 his voice that scarce was audible for emotion, as he 
 said, forgetting all his careful preparation, 
 
 " ' The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,' my 
 daughter." 
 
 " Blessed be the name of the Lord," replied the 
 white lips of the bereaved woman ; and, sitting down 
 in the nearest chair, she covered her face for a mo- 
 ment, then said in a strangely hushed voice, 
 
 " Tell me as quickly as may be, good friend. I can 
 bear it better to hear it all out at once." 
 
 So subduing his own emotion, Master Bradford told 
 how the " Belle Isle " had encountered in the Bahama 
 waters ther craft of a famous buccaneer of that time 
 and locality, named Black Beard, who, from his lair 
 in one of the inlets of the island since called New 
 Providence, sallied forth, now to attack some vessel 
 whose freight he had reason to suppose valuable, and
 
 326 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 now to make raids upon the mainland, his ravages 
 extending as far north as the Carolinas. 1 Either from 
 information or by a shrewd guess, none could now 
 say which, Black Beard had decided that the " Belle 
 Isle " was worth his capture on this occasion, and had 
 lain in wait for her, taken her by surprise, slaughtered 
 most of the crew, and having thoroughly stripped her, 
 not only of the treasures of the poor marquis, but of 
 every other valuable, had secured her crew and pas- 
 sengers, living and dead, below hatches, set fire to the 
 brig, and sailed away, leaving her to consume and 
 sink. 
 
 One of the sailors, sick in his berth below at the 
 time of the attack, had crawled out of one of the port- 
 holes, secured a floating spar, and in the confusion 
 and smoke of the onslaught contrived to float out of 
 the immediate vicinity of the pirate before any one had 
 leisure to discover or pursue him ; and after a night 
 and day in the water was picked up by some natives 
 from one of the other islands, who would have sold 
 him to Black Beard as a slave, had not he fortunately 
 effected his escape, and worked his way to Massachu- 
 setts Bay, where he hoped to find some French vessel 
 returning home. Telling his story to the governor, 
 who two hundred years ago occupied more the posi- 
 tion of father and guardian of the colony than the 
 governors of to-day do or could, he was sent on to 
 Plymouth Plantation, there to give by word of mouth 
 the heavy news so important, not only to Dr. Le- 
 Baron's family, but to those of two other townsmen 
 who had taken passage on the " Belle Isle."
 
 MARQUISES ARE UNLUCKY TO ME. 327 
 
 Such in brief was the news that the kind Bradford, 
 then ruling Plymouth, had come to give as best he 
 might to LeBaron's widow ; and, having given it, to 
 kneel and pray beside her that God would give strength 
 to endure the loving chastisement His own hand in- 
 flicted. 
 
 Molly listened to heavy news, eloquent prayer, and 
 well-spoken consolation, with the same set white face 
 and fixed, unseeing eyes for all. When the somewhat 
 puzzled magistrate rose to go, she rose too, and, hold- 
 ing out her hand, said gently, 
 
 " I thank you very much, Master Bradford, and will 
 you kindly excuse me to any of the neighbors who 
 may speak of coming to see me before to-morrow? I 
 had rather be alone." 
 
 "Will you not see the elder? " 
 
 " No, if it please you, sir. I had rather be alone." 
 
 " Then you shall, poor child ; and none shall take 
 offence if Desire denies you at the door." 
 
 And we, too, will leave her alone.
 
 328 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 
 
 NO doubt our Puritan and Pilgrim ancestors pos- 
 sessed affections and sentiment like ourselves ; 
 but these graces of life were, in the stern first century 
 of their experience on the sterile shores of New Eng- 
 land, made so subservient to the iron principles upon 
 which their commonwealth was founded, the tastes 
 of the individual were so constantly sacrificed to the 
 well-being of the community, that small evidence of 
 even ordinary feeling appears upon the surface of 
 their records. Notably is this the case in the matter 
 of second marriages ; for from the first landing of the 
 Pilgrims, or rather from the first winter when so many 
 marriages were dissolved by death, it seemed to be 
 received as a grave political if not moral duty, that 
 grief for the dead should be postponed to care for the 
 living; and the widowed mourner should, after the 
 briefest possible widowhood, take another partner, and 
 raise up children for the Lord and His people. 
 
 Rose Standish had not lain many months in her 
 grave when her husband applied for the hand of Pris- 
 cilla Mullins; Dorothy Bradford had hardly settled 
 herself to her wave-rocked slumber before the gover- 
 nor sent over seas for fair Alice Southworth, his first
 
 MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 329 
 
 love, to come and be his second wife. And all through 
 the records of those early days we find the marriages 
 following the burials so rapidly that the funeral meats 
 might have been at least lukewarm for the marriage 
 feast. 
 
 In view of this state of things Mary LeBaron was 
 not scandalized, although much grieved, when her dear 
 old friend Bradford called upon her one autumnal 
 day, about a year after her husband's loss, and premis- 
 ing his errand with some kindly commonplaces, to 
 which she replied in her gentle, absent fashion, came 
 to the pith of his errand in this direct style : 
 
 " I have come to-day, my dear child, to give you 
 some counsel which I do earnestly desire you to fol- 
 low. I would see you married again, as St. Paul ad- 
 vises the younger widows ever to do ; and I have a good 
 and suitable husband to propose. One, too, who has 
 some sort of a claim upon you, in that you once were 
 troth-plight to him, and broke the bond for no other 
 reason than a maid's idle fancy. I mean Reuben 
 Hetherford, Mary." 
 
 "Reuben Hetherford has spoken with me, good 
 father Bradford, and I have given him his answer," 
 replied Molly quietly, but with a little color rising to 
 her cheek, a little light to her eye. The patriarch 
 smiled, and lifted a gently deprecating hand. 
 
 " I know it, Mary : I heard it all from Hetherford 
 himself; and it seemed to me you had shown him less 
 than your usual gentleness. I hardly knew our dove- 
 like Mistress LeBaron hi the scornful dame whose 
 words he reported."
 
 33O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " It is like him to try to set you against me, sir, you 
 who have been my best friend since but I will not 
 contradict him. Believe me a shrew an you will, father ; 
 but let me, in all reverence to you, say again, as I said 
 to him, I am the wife of one man, and that man Fran- 
 cis LeBaron. And though God has in His righteousness 
 removed him from my sight, from this world even, he 
 is none the less my husband ; and I can no more take 
 another than can Dame Sampson because her husband 
 has gone voyaging around the world." 
 
 " But, mistress, you will not make yourself more 
 faithful or more righteous than the fathers of our col- 
 ony here " began the governor rather severely ; but 
 Mary, putting her hands together, raised them in such 
 meek deprecation of his anger that he paused irreso- 
 lutely, and she took advantage of his doubt to put in 
 her own plea. 
 
 " Nay, father, be not displeased : say that I am but 
 a poor, silly woman, and let me go my way, looking 
 only to your honorable guardianship for protection 
 and counsel; for in very truth Reuben Hetherford 
 could never fill your place in those respects. I shall 
 be no charge to any one ; for when the money my 
 dear husband left in your hands is gone, I can sell 
 my farm near Falmouth, and I think already of open- 
 ing a little dame-school here in my own sitting-room ; 
 there are many who would trust their children to me ; 
 and I may dismiss Desire, and there are other econo- 
 mies in truth, father, I need no man to care for my 
 affairs except yourself." 
 
 "But the lad, Mary 1 Lazarus surely needs a 
 father."
 
 MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 331 
 
 " He has one, sir ; and one of his daily lessons is to 
 learn to be what that father would have him. I may 
 be all unfit to train him, but Reuben Hetherford shall 
 never be master over Dr. LeBaron's son." 
 
 "Pride, Mar>', and bitterness and prejudice and 
 perversity. Those are the good gifts you would give 
 your son, are they?" asked Bradford severely, 
 
 " Better those than cruelty and treachery and false- 
 hood, the goodly blossoms of Hetherford's nature," re- 
 plied Molly, in so undaunted a tone that the governor 
 rose in much displeasure, and would have left the 
 room but for the fair, soft woman suddenly replacing 
 the self-asserting matron who opposed him but now, 
 and who clasping his hand in her own long, smooth 
 fingers raised it to her lips saying, 
 
 "Nay then, nay father, but I will not have you 
 leave me so. Did not you promise to be a father to 
 the fatherless and to the widow? and have not I given 
 you the love and reverence of a daughter? Forgive 
 my obstinacy, and do not altogether break my heart 
 by going away in anger." 
 
 "Well there, then, child, there. Kneel down and 
 take my blessing. I was vexed, no doubt ; but, after 
 all, God himself guides such as you, and I need not 
 to meddle. Hetherford shall not persecute you, nor 
 shall any one." 
 
 So that danger went by, and the winter passed. 
 Mary opened her dame-school, and dismissed Deshe, 
 but, besides her household duties and the care of her 
 little ones, found time to carry on the lessons her hus- 
 band had begun with his son, and which were already
 
 332 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 far beyond the most advanced branches of the village 
 school system. The governor occasionally examined 
 the lad, and looked at his books, generally making the 
 mother's heart flutter before he left her by prophesying, 
 that, in a few months more, master must be sent to 
 Boston, or perhaps to the new college at Cambridge, 
 t: finish his education, already outgrowing a woman's 
 grasp. 
 
 After one of these examinations and prophecies, 
 the widow's candle burned very late o' nights for a 
 long time ; and her sweet, steadfast eyes grew red, not 
 with weeping only, but with poring over Latin and 
 even Greek grammar and lexicon, and puzzling al- 
 gebraic signs, interpreted finally more by intuition 
 spurred by love, than any colder mental process. 
 
 It was the next morning after one of these visits, 
 and one of these vigils, that Molly received a visitor 
 admitted by Lazarus, who came to call his mother, and 
 take her place in the little school while she received 
 him. A tall, dark, handsome man, the top of his 
 head bald or shaved, and the black hair beneath a 
 little gray, although the firmness of the muscles and 
 clearness of the eyes suggested that mental toil and 
 hardship, rather than age, had added the silver threads. 
 He stood in the middle of the parlor as the widow 
 entered, and gravely bowed, remaining silent until she 
 spoke. 
 
 "I remember you very well, sir, although I have 
 lot seen you since the night of my marriage, and do 
 iot know your name. But as his friend " And 
 hen, a sudden thought striking her, all the gentle
 
 MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 333 
 
 calm of her manner broke up in a most unwonted 
 whirl of agitation, the soft color fled her cheek, the 
 eyes filled, the lips quivered, and, hardly able to com- 
 mand her voice, she gasped, 
 
 " Oh ! You are his friend ! You know all you 
 were with him before I knew him he would do 
 you know O sir ! is he is he alive ? " 
 
 " Ah, madame ! If he were, you would not have 
 seen me stand here, here in his home so silent and so 
 sad ! " replied the abbd in real emotion. " I loved 
 him, madame, not as you, I do not claim it, but I 
 loved him more than ever I loved mortal before or 
 since, and the news of his fearful death has changed 
 the face of all the world to me." 
 
 But Molly hardly heard the loving tribute, so touch- 
 ing when offered by a man to the memory of a man. 
 The sudden hope, the deadly revulsion, were too much 
 for strength already sorely taxed ; and, sinking sud- 
 denly into a chair, she grew so white that Despard 
 would have called for assistance, had not she found 
 strength to whisper, " Wait ! " and then, summoning 
 her indomitable will to fortify her exhausted energies, 
 she sat upright and said, 
 
 " Excuse me, sir. It was a foolish idea. Nobody 
 would have known it sooner than I if my husband 
 had been alive. When did you see him last? " 
 
 " About two years ago, madame. A little before he 
 sailed for Hayti." 
 
 " Where ? You were not here, surely ? ' ' asked Mclly 
 a little sharply, a little jealously. The abbe recog- 
 nized the tone ; and his own became confidential as he 
 replied,
 
 334 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " No, madame : I have had some business in Bos 
 ton during the last few years, very delicate and pecu- 
 liar business ; and it was, above all, desirable that no- 
 body should discover my identity. My dear doctoi 
 sometimes visited me : but you know his sense of 
 honor, and his loyalty ; he promised to tell no one, 
 no one at all, of my affairs, and so no doubt felt him- 
 self debarred from mentioning me to one who doubt- 
 less shared all the secrets of his life, not so defended." 
 
 He looked inquiringly and a little watchfully at 
 Molly, who raised her head, and met his eyes fully and 
 almost defiantly ; and when she spoke her voice was 
 clear and cold as the north wind whistling past the 
 windows. 
 
 "You are mistaken, sir: I was agreed with my hus- 
 band that all his life before we met should be to me as 
 it had never been. You belonged to that life, and 
 you were never mentioned between us after the first 
 evening of our re-union. I do not even know your 
 name, and I do not desire to know it : the secrets 
 my husband living kept from me are doubly sacred to 
 me now that he is gone. I am not even sure, pardon 
 the discourtesy of the words, but I am not at all sure 
 thai it was well for you to visit me to-day ; for I do 
 not think he would have bidden you hither had he 
 been alive." 
 
 Despard remembered his visit of fourteen years 
 before to the Bunch of Grapes, when Dr. LeBaron 
 had declined to admit his guest to a sight of the 
 domestic felicity he boasted, and was silent. Molly 
 continued,
 
 MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 335 
 
 " And yet I cannot be sorry to see one who kne\ 
 and loved him whom I hold so dear. You are kindly 
 welcome, sir." And as she gave him her hand, the 
 conflict of feeling, the glow of tenderness, the doubt, 
 the eyes brimming with tears yet not overflowing, the 
 tender, tremulous mouth, despite the true, firm voice, all 
 combined to make so fair a picture of her face, all 
 told so clearly of the great loving heart, and the pow- 
 erful will, and the inflexible honor, and the truth before 
 God and man, that made up this woman's character, 
 that the priest, no mean judge of human nature, no 
 tyro in the nature of women especially, forgot, in read- 
 ing that noble page outspread before him, to release 
 the hand he held, or to make reply to the words he 
 hardly heard, so that it was the widow herself who, 
 with a little added dignity, presently said, 
 
 " Sit down, I pray you, sir, and tell me if you will 
 what brought you to our little town." 
 
 " Pardon my stupidity, madame. I was but think- 
 ing that my friend had indeed shown his usual rare 
 discernment in the selection of his wife. My errand ? 
 It is one that since I have seen you I am almost afraid 
 to unfold ; and yet, the strong mind, the noble self- 
 command I see, should give me confidence that their 
 possessor will not allow any excess of maternal fond- 
 ness to resent" 
 
 "What!" demanded Molly almost sharply. "You 
 speak of my son, of Lazarus ? What do you know of 
 him?" 
 
 " Only that he so wonderfully resembles his father 
 to face, form, and voice, that I am sure he must in
 
 336 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 mind also ; while his mother's calm and truthful eyes 
 give steadiness and purpose to the whole." 
 
 " Yes, he is very like his father. And then? " 
 
 The abb6 smiled a little. The idiom caught from 
 I^Baron's French- English mode of speech pleased 
 him. 
 
 " And then, madame," replied he gayly, " it would 
 seem well fitting with the rest, that the son so like his 
 father should be trained as was his father, and by the 
 same hand. It cannot infringe upon the privacy you 
 so nobly respect, for me to say that I educated Fran- 
 cois from his early boyhood, and you know how I 
 succeeded." 
 
 " Master Bradford, our governor, and all the men 
 fit to pronounce on such matters here, will have it that 
 my husband possessed more learning than all of them 
 together," said Molly in proud simplicity. 
 
 "The worthy gentlemen show themselves fit for 
 their honorable office," replied the abb6 with a bow. 
 " Well, then, madame, all at a blow, I petition for the 
 privilege of educating the son as I did the father. 
 You believe me competent?" 
 
 " Oh yes, sir ! fully competent, and the advantage 
 to my poor boy would be untold; and indeed it 
 would be a most fitting thing that the father and son 
 should learn of the same lips ; and I thank you most 
 kindly for the thought, but" and Molly's fluent 
 words suddenly checked, and the color left her cheek 
 as she slowly added, "but are you coming to this 
 place to live, sir?" 
 
 " G< d forbid ! '' and the abbe imperceptibly crossed 
 himself 'r\ horror.
 
 MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 337 
 
 "Then how could it be?" demanded Molly re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 " Surely, madame, Boston is not so very far from 
 here," replied the priest, not daring yet to announce 
 the whole intention of his visit ; but Molly's rapid 
 instinct forestalled him. 
 
 " You do not mean e 'en Boston," cried she : " you 
 would take him away ! You have come here to rob 
 rne of my son ! " 
 
 A swarthy red showed for an instant upon Despard':> 
 sallow cheek ; and suddenly adopting a new tone he 
 replied, 
 
 " Well, yes, madame : my plan, or rather the plan 
 of those who have a certain authority to arrange your 
 son's destiny, is more extended than I at first an- 
 nounced ; and, had you been a weaker woman, I 
 might have waited some months before revealing the 
 whole" 
 
 " Spare all pretences, now at least, good sir," 
 interrupted Molly more bitterly than she often spoke, 
 " and tell me, as briefly as you may, who pretends to 
 have any authority over my son, except myself; and 
 what is the worshipful plan they have conceived?" 
 
 "Briefly, then," replied the abbe 1 , stung by her 
 scorn almost beyond his usual self-command, " th 
 relatives of your late husband are of a very differen. 
 rank fn>m that the boy at present moves in ; and as 
 he will be heir to certain estates, or rather is now the 
 actual possessor of" 
 
 " Hold there, sir, if you please, and remember my 
 caution against betraying the confidence my husband,
 
 338 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 t 
 
 somewhat riskily as it seems, reposed in you. Besides, 
 it matters not what claims my boy might have any- 
 where but here ; for here is the only home his father 
 desired to claim, here the only relatives his son will 
 ever own. It seems needless to speak further of wha 
 brought you here, does it not?" 
 
 "Perhaps, madame," replied the abb, now thor 
 oughly out of temper, " perhaps even your marvellous 
 wisdom will allow me to judge for myself of my own 
 affairs; and I insist, before accepting my dismissal, 
 upon clearly stating that I come with offers of a thor- 
 ough education, of a handsome fortune, a distinguished 
 name, and a most suitable alliance for the young gen- 
 tleman of whom we speak, upon the one condition of 
 your resigning him into my hands ; and it seems to 
 me, courtesy apart, that a woman strong and sensible 
 as yourself, a mother tender and self-sacrificing as 
 yourself, would think twice before refusing such ad- 
 vantages for her son. What but sheer selfishness and 
 self-will should induce you to prefer for him the life 
 of poverty, obscurity, and immolation, which is all 
 these sands and pine forests have to offer?" 
 
 "Nay, sir," replied the widow, with a smile cold 
 and fine as the edge of a razor, " they have for him 
 what they had for the men whose graves you find on 
 yonder hill, what they had for the man whose name 1 
 bear, and whose wishes are my law : they have free- 
 dom, freedom from tyranny, freedom from corrup- 
 tion, freedom from other men's control. My son will 
 live in the home his father preferred to all the riches, 
 honors, and alliances of which you speak, and which
 
 MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 339 
 
 I shall forget just as soon as I possibly can, sith it was 
 not his pleasure to tell me of them. You have my 
 last answer, sir." 
 
 "Then nothing remains but to bid you a fair good- 
 day, and a long adieu, since we are not likely to meet 
 again," said the abb angrily. 
 
 " Most unlikely, I should judge. Good-by, and go 
 in peace, my husband's friend," replied Molly, in her 
 usual tone of gentle gravity.
 
 340 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 UTTER FROM THE ABBE DESPARD TO MADAME DE 
 MONTARNAUD. 
 
 MY DEAR DAUGHTER, In reply to your last some- 
 what impatient letter, I will simply say that I have 
 done my best, and all that is possible, to carry out your 
 wishes, and that I have failed, and the plan must be abandoned. 
 As for your idea of kidnapping the boy, for it amounts to that, 
 it is absolutely out of the question ; and I rather wonder at 
 your suggesting it to one you profess to reverence as your 
 spiritual father. I told you of my interviews with Hetherford, 
 and the dowry I promised in your name if he married the 
 widow and relinquished the boy, although, in point of fact, he 
 needed no inducement to either course. I also suggested his 
 interesting the governor of the colony, who is madame's great 
 friend and adviser, and taught him varioup arguments he 
 should offer to that gentleman. This negotiation failing in toto, 
 I saw the lady herself, and have given you the result of the 
 interview in a letter you had apparently not received at date of 
 your last. Probably you have done so before this time. That 
 woman should have sat upon a throne, or led an army. She was 
 so completely mistress of the situation in our encounter, that I 
 retreated from her presence in a state of humiliation more 
 wholesome than agreeable, and my meekness ever since has 
 been most edifying. In all seriousness, my daughter, your 
 schemes for this lad are absolutely impossible of execution 
 and we must marry Mademoiselle Therese to some noble sieur 
 of Languedoc, who will add her name and title to his own. 
 and at least keep the estates out of the clutches of the
 
 LETTER FROM THE ABBE DESPARD. 341 
 
 Huguenot. En passant, our good and pious king, advised nc 
 doubt by Madame de Maintenon, seems dealing somewhat stren- 
 uously with ces messieurs since the revocation of Nantes. Well, 
 we must not allow human sympathies and weakness to blind us 
 to the true interests of the Church; and I sometimes wish that 
 these people among whom I labor to so little effect, and who in 
 their own country are styled Malignants, could be transported 
 to France, and there dealt with after the fashion of Vendee. 
 And yet I know one fair, soft creature who would see the flesh 
 cut piecemeal from her bones, and the bones wrenched asunder 
 by wild horses, before she would give up her faith or her will 
 or her son. 
 
 With this, goes a letter to my superior, asking a leave of 
 absence, if not an abandonment of the mission. It does not 
 prosper, and would not, as I believe, even in worthier hands 
 than mine. If the people were without a faith like savages, or 
 in the way of comparing their own sterile belief with the full 
 and satisfying creed of the true Church, as in the Italian 
 countries, or in fear of death and poverty as now in France, 
 there would be hope ; but to ask these smooth-faced, prosperous 
 rogues to give up their worldly standing and sanctimonious 
 public prayers, to risk life and goods, and the respect of men, 
 for a faith which they have always known and deliberately 
 abandoned, is, as you saw while here, an almost hopeless under- 
 taking. I could hardly wonder at your abandoning the task, 
 and cutting short your emulation of Madame de la Peltrie 
 before reaching her glorious end. Remember, however, that it 
 is only by the way of the cross that we reach the crown. 
 
 And now, my dear daughter, I will say adieu, hoping that 
 it may also be an au revoir ; for if my permission to depart 
 arrives by return mail, you will see me as soon thereafter as 
 wind and wave will carry me. I struggle in vain against the 
 very human desire to see my own dear home and friends once 
 more, and the spiritual longing to join again in the stately and 
 venerable service of my beloved cathedral. 
 
 With my blessing and constant prayers, I am as always, dear 
 daughter, 
 
 Faithfully your father, 
 
 VINCENT DE P. DESPAKIJ.
 
 342 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 When Madame de Montarnaud read tiih letter 
 some four or five weeks later, she quietly refolded it, 
 nodded her head twice or thrice, and murmured, 
 
 " I suppose & bon Dieu made these men to develop 
 the superior intelligence of the women. We never 
 quite know our own powers until we find it necessary 
 to remedy their blunders."
 
 ON BURYING-HILL. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 ON BURYING-HILL. 
 
 TT was the chill gloaming of a November day ; a 
 J. leaden sky hung low above the flat and lifeless sea, 
 crushed by its weight, and reflecting its color; the 
 skeleton trees shivered in the wind moaning fitfully 
 out of the east, and slowly bringing in a great fog- 
 bank to lie like a shroud over the face of dead Na- 
 ture, a chill, defying duffle mantle, or robe of fur, 
 and sending a shiver through even the stoutest frame ; 
 while the old wives, comforting their frosty noses and 
 withered fingers at the blaze snapping upon every 
 hearth, cried, 
 
 " Hark to the fire treading snow ! It will be a 
 shrewd night on the coast. God keep the sailors ! " 
 
 "They signalled another brig off the Gurnet just 
 before dark," reported goodman Priest, as he stood 
 beside the chimney, and stirred the logs with his 
 heavy boot. 
 
 "Another? Oh, yes ! 'The Messenger' from Bos- 
 ton came in this morning," replied his wife. " Well, 
 if the brig's skipper is a prudent man, he'll stay off 
 the Gurnet till morning light, and not risk Brown's 
 Island and Dick's Flat in a night fog." 
 
 " Pity but he had thee there to guide him, dame,"
 
 344 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 replied her husband with a chastened smile ; and the 
 dame retorted, "And if he has no better headpiece 
 on's shoulders than thee, Diggory, he needs me." 
 
 Creeping in, and creeping up, the fog has reached 
 Burying-Hill, and goes stealing along between the 
 rows of stones marking the streets and alleys of this 
 city of the dead, already more populous than the 
 town below, hanging dankly upon the funereal ever- 
 greens set here and there about the graves, and seem- 
 ing to wither away the last freshness of the grass 
 crouching beneath its tread. And here, at the highest 
 point of the hill, the fog finds a fit subject for its 
 clinging, crawling possession. Beside a gravestone 
 newly set, yet with no mound at its foot, crouches a 
 woman clad in deepest mourning weeds, her head en- 
 veloped in a muffling veil between whose folds showed 
 a wild and woeful face, a face where pride and pas- 
 sion had fought with grief until all its beauty was lost in 
 scars of conflict, and the great gloomy eyes, once its 
 charm, burned like the fires whereby upon a stricken 
 field men seek the bodies of the slain. 
 
 Quiet and impassive as the dead around her she 
 crouched there ; but it was not in the gentle resigna- 
 tion of hallowed grief; the volcanic throes were for 
 the moment exhausted, yet only gathered strength for 
 a new outburst. On that face, as on that of Milton's 
 Satan, one read that so long as the deathless spirit en- 
 dured, so long it was that of a rebel against God; 
 never should it arrive at His peace. 
 
 At a little distance, his back turned to the silent 
 mourner, stood a man, his hat pulled over his eyes,
 
 ON BURYING-HILL. 345 
 
 his arms folded, his face, gray as the sky and the sea 
 and the fog, bent downward, his mind so lost in 
 gloomy thought that the present scene and companion- 
 ship were forgotten, and he did not hear the light tread 
 of a woman, who, climbing the little footpath among 
 the graves, passed close behind him, and approached 
 the stone with the sable figure crouched beside it. 
 
 This woman also was in mourning, but of a less 
 exaggerated sort than the other; and the close little 
 hood, concealing nearly all her hair, left exposed a 
 face white, and thin, and grief-worn indeed, but still 
 and holy as the effigies of a saint. Tears and vigil, 
 and prayer without ceasing, had indeed wasted away 
 the roundness and much of the comeliness of youth, 
 but had left in its place a radiant loveliness, a solemn 
 and thrilling beauty never seen save on the faces of 
 "they who, with their Leader, have conquered in the 
 fight ; " faces from which men " take knowledge that 
 they have been with Jesus." 
 
 Approaching the stone with her quiet tread, she 
 presently stood unperceived beside the other, who, 
 with her face buried in her hands, was now sobbing 
 heavily. Mary Wilder looked at her a moment in 
 grave surprise, then, laying a hand upon her shoulder, 
 softly said, 
 
 " Friend, why dost thou weep beside this stone ? " 
 The crouching figure sprang to her feet, drew the veil 
 across her face, and haughtily demanded, 
 
 " What is that to you, madame ? " 
 
 " Much," replied Molly patiently. " For this stone 
 is placed here in memory of my husband, as you may
 
 346 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAtf. 
 
 read ; and one who mourns beside it must have known 
 and loved him, and so is dear to me." 
 
 " Oh ! You are the peasant whom he chose to 
 style his wife ! " exclaimed Valerie in a tone of biting 
 contempt, as she swept the veil aside, and looked her 
 rival in the face. A little color crept into Molly's 
 cheek ; but her voice remained patient and sweet as 
 she replied, 
 
 "I was indeed his wife, madame, both was and 
 am, for death has not broken the bond ; and that I 
 was his wife in sight of God and man, this gentleman 
 can testify, sith he it was who married us." 
 
 " This lady is indeed the widow of our friend, my 
 daughter, and should be so treated," replied the abb, 
 who had approached at the sound of voices, and now 
 stood beside his charge. For reply Valerie pointed 
 contemptuously at the stone, and said, 
 
 " Why, see ! she does not even know his name. 
 Francis LeBaron she styles him. Pr'ythee, madame, 
 what do you call yourself? " 
 
 " By my husband's name, as wife and widow should. 
 I am Mary LeBaron." 
 
 " But, good woman, that is no name, as even you 
 must know. What other name had he? What was 
 he called before, as I have heard, you yourself invented 
 his absurd title, name, whatever you choose to call 
 it?" 
 
 A puzzled look disturbed the calm of Mary's face : 
 the color deepened, and her eyes turned wistfully from 
 that angry and contemptuous face to the stone, where- 
 on was rudely inscribed,
 
 ON BURYING-HILL. 347 
 
 44 To the Memory of 
 
 DOCTOR FRANCIS LEBARON 
 
 Phthycian & Chirugeon 
 
 of Plymouth Plantation. 
 
 He was lost at sea off the Bermudas 
 
 Nov y in. 1690 
 
 And this stone is raised to his memory by his 
 Wife and Son." 
 
 The sight of the beloved name seemed to re- assure 
 her ; for if without anger, it was with much dignity that 
 she turned her eyes again upon the face of her oppo- 
 nent, and said, 
 
 " I do not understand you, madame ; and I do not 
 care to inquire your meaning. If my husband chose 
 to forget his earlier history, and begin his life from his 
 arrival in this country, he had a right to do so. If 
 he chose to conceal that history even from me, 
 the wife whom he loved and trusted far beyond her 
 deserts, I will not have another hand withdraw the 
 veil he chose to draw. This gentleman knows my 
 resolve in this matter : he may explain it further ; and 
 as methinks it is ill proving our love and honor to him 
 who is gone, to wrangle over his headstone, I will bid 
 you a fair good-night, and go my way." 
 
 " Good-sight, madame," replied the priest, removing 
 his hat, and bowing courteously; but the high-bred 
 lady of the politest court in Christendom contemptu- 
 ously turned her back, and made no reply. 
 
 Poor human nature ! No gilding and no lacquer 
 are permanent enough to hide its deformity at some 
 moments of a passionate life. The only safeguard
 
 348 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 against ugly exposure, sooner or later, is to change the 
 whole groundwork of the fabric, to replace the original 
 material with one not perhaps so highly polished on 
 the surface, but sound and fair throughout
 
 A PROVENCE ROSE. 349 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 A PROVENCE ROSE. 
 
 MOTHER must not stay up on the hill in this 
 fog and chill," said Lazarus LeBaron, throw- 
 ing down his book, snatching his hat, and putting a 
 fresh log upon the fire where already the kettle softly 
 sang of evening cheer and domestic comfort. Hurry- 
 ing along through the village, whose twinkling lights and 
 ruddier streams of fire-blaze showed that the folk were 
 generally gathered about their hearthstones, the lad 
 began to mount the hill already dusky with night as 
 well as fog, when he heard a blithe young voice just 
 out of sight singing a little French nursery rhyme, 
 
 " Tous les vaches de Picardie 
 Sont nominee Marie, Marie ; 
 Donnez-moi du lait, cherie I " 
 
 And then exclaiming in the same language, 
 
 " Well, Marie, is there anybody up here but mes- 
 sieurs the dead men, do you suppose ? " 
 
 " But no, mademoiselle," replied a coarser voice. 
 " And who knows but they may attack us for dis- 
 turbing their repose? Let us return to the inn, and 
 await madame there as she bade us." 
 
 Lazarus, taught by his father and the French sailors 
 who pervaded the port in those days, understood the
 
 350 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 language easily, but was a great deal too shy to use it 
 on his own account ; so hastening his steps a little, he 
 overtook the speakers, and said in English, 
 
 " Are you looking for somebody on the hill? " 
 
 " Ah, del! " exclaimed the merry voice ; and Laz- 
 arus could now see through the gloaming how fair and 
 bright a face went with it, before, lapsing into a cere- 
 monious tone and very careful English, the young 
 lady continued, 
 
 " You are but too good, sir ; and if you will gra- 
 ciously tell us if a lady is up here among the graves. 
 A boy said so below there, but it is so gloomy here." 
 
 " A lady, do you say ? " asked Lazarus, his eyes 
 fixed upon the flower-face so different from any thing 
 he ever yet had seen. " My mother is here ; but you 
 do not seek her, I fear." 
 
 "Your mother 1 No ; but it is my own that I want," 
 exclaimed the girl, flashing out a smile. " Two lambs, 
 each crying for its sheep mamma." 
 
 Lazarus laughed too, and said something, he knew 
 not what ; for he was thinking that the dark velvety 
 pansies in his mother's garden-plot were almost as rich 
 as the eyes laughing into his, and that new broken 
 cocoanuts were not so white and fine as those litde 
 teeth laughing with the lips. 
 
 "Come, mademoiselle," interposed the nurse, her 
 sharp black eyes peering into the fog on every side, 
 and her French mind divided between delight in 
 "assisting" at even so mild an impropriety as this in- 
 terview, and terror lest it should be discovered. But 
 her young mistress was French also, and, fresh from
 
 A PROVENCE ROSE. 351 
 
 her convent and a tedious sea- voyage, found it very 
 pleasant to chatter there in the twilight with a tall lad 
 whose fearless blue eyes so plainly told his admiration, 
 and upon whose downy cheek glowed a color fair to see 
 and unknown to southern France. So they prattled 
 on, these two, speaking of Heaven knows what, and 
 never guessing at the tragedy going on among the 
 graves above them, or of the tangled life threads they 
 might so easily smooth or still further complicate, until 
 upon their gossip broke a clear cold voice, saying, 
 
 " Son ! Are you looking for me ? " 
 
 " O mother ! yes, that is, this young lady 
 is looking for her mother. Did you see her? " 
 
 With a strange look of anger upon the face ordi- 
 narily so sweet and still, Mary LeBaron turned, and 
 fixed her eyes upon the girl, who, smiling timidly, re- 
 plied to the look in her pretty accented English, 
 
 " Yes, madame. My mother and her chaplain, they 
 went out from the inn, and asked the path to the 
 cemetery to see some memorial of which the landlord 
 told them ; and I go to seek them because it is so 
 lonely at the inn. You will perhaps have met them 
 above there." 
 
 "She married, then, and you are her daughter?" 
 asked Mary, her thought taking words almost uncon- 
 sciously. 
 
 " Married ! But yes, madame, since it is my mcth- 
 er of whom we speak," replied the Montarnaud so 
 haughtily that Lazarus colored afresh, and, drawing 
 closer to his mother's side, took her hand in his. Re- 
 called to herself, Mistress LeBaron glanced at her son,
 
 352 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 then again at the girl, bowed her head in grave courte- 
 sy, and simply saying, 
 
 "There is a lady on the hill, and a priest with 
 her ; " she moved decidedly away, Lazarus perforce 
 accompanying her, although with a backward look so 
 wistful that a faint smile crossed his mother's face in 
 seeing it ; but neither spoke until close to the garden 
 gate, when she said, 
 
 "Lazarus, do you remember your father's saying 
 that marquises were unlucky to him ? " 
 
 " Yes, truly, mother." 
 
 " And did not his words prove sooth ? " 
 
 " Only too fairly true, mother." 
 
 " And did he not bid you heed me when he should 
 be gone ? " 
 
 "Ay; and do I not, sweet mother?" 
 
 "You have been better than the best so far, my 
 boy; but there comes a time, and I was called a 
 good daughter, too, but I was found wanting when 
 that day came to me, all I would say now, my boy, 
 is this, marquises are unlucky to all of us, as well as to 
 our head ; and his words were not only a prophecy, 
 but a warning. Yon maid is fair? " 
 
 " Passing fair and winsome, mother." 
 
 " Well, she and her mother and her priest and all 
 belonging to her are of the marquises ; and your father 
 bids you, through me your mother, beware of her and 
 all of them. Avoid speech or look or any association 
 if you would obey him, and avoid the curse of rebel- 
 lious children. Do you understand ? Will you heed ? " 
 
 The light of the fire within struck through the case-
 
 A PROVENCE HOSE. 353 
 
 ment, and fell upon the speaker's face ; and 'Lazarus 
 almost forgot to answer for wonder at the terror, the 
 pleading, the agitation, pictured there : never in all 
 his life had he seen it so stirred ; and it was not until 
 his mother's cold hand closed sharply upon his, and 
 her voice demanded, " Well ! Have you no word for 
 me? " that he replied, 
 
 " I cannot tell your meaning, mother, nor why my 
 few words with that fair young lady should so move 
 you ; but to obey my father, and please you, are more 
 to me than all the maids with dark eyes and white 
 teeth who ever walked : so be content, mother, I will 
 not go near her or any of them, or speak to them, 
 an I can help it, while they stay in Plymouth. Does 
 that please you?" 
 
 " ' If you can help it,' " repeated the mother dubi- 
 ously ; and Lazarus laughed out as he replied, 
 
 " Why, yes. You would not have me turn and run, 
 like the tailors from the kyloe cow, if I chance to 
 meet these folk, and they ask me the way hither or 
 yon? I need not do so, though they be marquises 
 twice over, need I, mother?" 
 
 " Why, no, I suppose not ; and yet you know the 
 word of Holy Writ, touch not, taste not, handle not. 
 But I trust you, my boy, now that you know my will 
 and his will. I trust you never to deceive me," and 
 then, as Lazarus pushed open the gate, and hastened 
 to undo the door for her to enter, the widow whis- 
 pered bitterly to herself, "as I did my father and 
 mother."
 
 354 * NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 
 
 THE fog, brooding heavily all night over sea and 
 shore, lifted with the sunrise and the turn of the 
 tide, allowing the cautious skipper of the brig, reported 
 by Dame Priest as lying off the Gurnet, to make out 
 his landmarks, and assure himself of sufficient depth 
 of water to steer clear of the dangers of the harbor, 
 whose intricate channels were not yet buoyed out. 
 The pale autumn sunshine lay broad on Burying Hill, 
 touching the doctor's headstone with melancholy 
 light, and throwing its long shadow westward across 
 the vacant grave that should have been his. In the 
 village below, a note of decent merrymaking already 
 resounded; a sort of glee befitting men who daily 
 prayed to be delivered from the damnation they and 
 all men deserved, and who, even in praying, grasped 
 a loaded musket in one hand, haply to discharge it 
 before the orison ended at prowling beast or more 
 dangerous savage. 
 
 But to-day, instead of Fast and penitential exercises, 
 the governor had ordained a feasit of thanksgiving for 
 the bountiful crop (as Plymouth crops go), the peace 
 and safety of the colony, and God's continued favor 
 to these His peculiar people. It was holiday at the
 
 WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 355 
 
 dame- school ; and although the widow and her son 
 could not join in even the sober mirth of their neigh- 
 bors, nor would accept any invitation to their houses, 
 Mary thought good to notice the day, not only by 
 hearty thanksgiving for the protection and comfort 
 assured her by the Guardian of the widow and the 
 fatherless, but by a little feast, principally adapted to 
 her son's tastes and fancies. The doctor, partly 
 because he was a Frenchman, partly because he 
 had travelled much in lonely places, partly from 
 natural propensity, had his own ideas and a fair 
 stock of knowledge in matters of the cuisine, and had 
 amused himself by imparting them to his wife, and 
 encouraging her to experiment and sublimate in the 
 art least aesthetic, but most essential to domestic com- 
 fort, of all the band. So it was just in the act of put- 
 ting a chicken-pasty in the brick oven, while the fine 
 fat pullet already revolved before the fire at the end 
 of a string fastened to the ceiling, that Mistress Le- 
 Baron was interrupted by a sharp rap upon her front 
 door, and, as Lazarus was out of the way, must go to 
 open it herself, her fair face flushed, her round arms 
 bare, and some tips of bright brown locks peeping 
 from beneath her widow's cap, and curling with the 
 warmth of the neck and temples they caressed. Cer- 
 tainly the widow never looked so well in her attire of 
 ceremony ; and yet a certain womanly vexation clyed 
 her cheeks yet brighter, as opening the door she 
 found the lady of the hill, and the priest, upon the 
 doorstep. Gravely saluting them, she hesitated for a 
 moment; but seeing that they plainly intended to
 
 356 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM 
 
 enter, she bade them do so, and pushed open the 
 door of the sitting-room, where a Thanksgiving fire 
 blazed upon the hearth. 
 
 "I do but hope Lazarus will not come home," 
 thought Mary, following them in, yet was half-ashamed 
 of the ungracious thought when Valerie, throwing 
 back her veil and holding out both hands, said, 
 
 "Will you forgive my rudeness of last night? I 
 was so distressed and boulevcrsee, what you say upset. 
 I did not sleep all night for need of your pardon, and, 
 besides, man pere here scolded me so much, he is so 
 great a friend and admirer of yours. Say that I have 
 your pardon, dear Madame LeBaron ! " 
 
 "Surely, if you need it, madame," replied Mary, 
 allowing herself to be kissed on either cheek, but not 
 returning the caress. " I may have been wrong myself: 
 at any rate, I bear no ill-will. Will you sit down ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed : who would not sit in this so charm- 
 ing room? especially, madame, as we have much to 
 say to you, much to implore." 
 
 Mary bowed yet more coldly, and seated herself 
 in her own chair, that chair beside the work-table, 
 and commanding a view through the office-door of the 
 leathern arm-chair where the doctor had been wont to 
 sit looking out at the pretty garden behind his house, 
 and smoking a meditative pipe. But in these sad 
 days the office-door was always closed, and Mary had 
 made Lazarus put a button upon it to prevent the 
 children opening it in her absence. It was her only 
 luxury, poor soul, to steal away sometimes, and, closing 
 the doors about her, sit and weep in that old chair the
 
 WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 357 
 
 tears she never suffered to interfere with her own 
 duties or her boy's cheerfulness. And you may be 
 sure every thing in that room remained the same that 
 it had been on the day when LeBaron saw it last, and 
 no speck of dust was allowed to gather there. 
 
 "And now, dear Madame LeBaron," began Valerie 
 with the smile of Versailles upon her lips, but a hag- 
 gard anxiety in her eyes too natural to be controlled, 
 " we have a very, very great favor to ask of you, and a 
 proposition to make ; and O madame ! for love of him 
 we both mourn, in memory of him, in reverence to 
 him, do not refuse me. It is my life I ask of you ; but 
 that is not much, it is my child's Happiness, the wel- 
 fare of a great estate, the benefit of the Church of 
 Christ " 
 
 "Be careful, be careful, my daughter," muttered the 
 abb, fixing his keen eyes upon the face of his peni- 
 tent, who calmed herself by a great effort, and contin- 
 ued more quietly, 
 
 "You saw my daughter last night, madame? " 
 "The young gentlewoman I met upon the hill?" 
 " Yes. Is she not pretty, well-mannered, modest ? " 
 " As well as I could determine in a moment's see- 
 ing, she was all these." But the assenting voice was 
 cold and hard as the stone above the doctor's empty 
 grave. 
 
 "Well, madame," pursued the eager voice of the 
 other, while the priest's keen eyes watched every word, 
 " I, too, have seen your child, your son, the son of 
 Francois " 
 
 " You have seen him ! Where ? " demanded the 
 widow in a tone of mingled terror and displeasure.
 
 358 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 " Content you, madame," replied the visitor with a 
 gesture of haughty derision, breaking through the con- 
 ciliating courtesy of her manner, " he has not dis- 
 obeyed your command to avoid us. The abb met 
 him, and would have brought him to me, but he would 
 not come; so, finding that he was bound to the 
 church, the the " 
 
 " The meeting-house we call it, madame." 
 
 " Pardon ! The meeting-house, well, we went 
 there ; and I sat as near the boy as I might, and stud- 
 ied him. O madame, it is his father's noble head and 
 stately form again ! It is a marvellous likeness." 
 
 "Yes, he is very like, but not so comely as his 
 father," said Mary softly. 
 
 " Well, then, madame," pursued Valerie, joining her 
 hands in passionate entreaty, " oh, then, madame ! by 
 that dear father's name and memory I implore you, let 
 your boy stand in his father's place. Suffer him to 
 resume the name and rank of his noble ancestors, to 
 inherit their estates, and to wed with his with my 
 daughter, the demoiselle you saw last night, and 
 whom, if you will, you shall see again, and question as 
 you will, satisfying your maternal heart that she is all 
 any mother could demand as her son's wife. I do not 
 tell you her name or mine, because you have said 
 more than once you would know nothing save what 
 your husband told you ; but I can assure you, mon- 
 sieur 1'abbe, whom you trust, he will assure you, that 
 the rank, the wealth, the position, I offer your boy are 
 those that any noble of France might accept with joy ; 
 and so far as we can, and preserve your husband's 
 secret, we will give proofs "
 
 WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 359 
 
 " It is useless, it is but waste of, words and hopes 
 and feeling, for us to talk more of this," interrupted 
 Mary, her lips white, her brow drawn with anguish. 
 " I cannot, for one moment, think of this plan of yours 
 with aught but horror and shame. To sell my boy ! 
 To send him back to all from which his father fled ' 
 To set at nought the years of struggle and endurance 
 with which my husband bought release from the life to 
 which he was born, and which he trained his son to 
 scorn and dread ! I will not tell you, I will not betray 
 the secrets of that dead heart by showing even for this, 
 the story that I read there ; but I know, I know as if 
 he were here to tell it, that I speak my husband's will 
 when I say that his son had better die and be buried 
 on that lonely hill above there, than to go back to the 
 luxury and vice and soul's death of the life from which 
 his father escaped even as by fire. 
 
 " I speak for my husband, I speak for myself, when 
 I say, No, never, to your proposition, and do most 
 earnestly beseech that it may never in any form be 
 repeated. It has been too much urged already." 
 
 " Obstinate" began Valerie, her haughty anger 
 flaming out at last ; but the priest grasped her arm, 
 commanding her to silence by a look, while he 
 smoothly said, 
 
 " One more word, dear daughter, before you turn 
 us out. Your son is now nearly fifteen years old, is 
 he not?" 
 
 " Quite so." 
 
 " And so manly of his age that his own judgment 
 should count for something in a matter so closely
 
 360 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 affecting himself. Will you not consent that we 
 should lay the matter before him ; in your presence 
 if you will? " 
 
 Mary hesitated for a moment, and in a sudden 
 mental picture saw the boy's flushed and eager face 
 as he spoke last night with that fair maid upon th? 
 hill, and turned so reluctantly homeward ; but the 
 next moment the serene light of truthful love crept 
 back into her eyes, and she quietly said, 
 
 " You may ask him in my presence. But I know 
 not where he is." 
 
 "He passed the window a little while ago, and 
 looked in," replied the abb eagerly. " And since then 
 I heard the window of that room," pointing to the 
 study, " open very softly. I fancy our young friend 
 will be found there." 
 
 And the abbe" did not quite restrain a smile of 
 appreciation of his triumph. Mary caught and read 
 the smile with one glance of her eye, and proudly 
 saying, 
 
 " My boy would not be worth the struggle we make 
 if he were an eavesdropper. Look and see ! " she 
 unbuttoned and threw open the office-door, glanced 
 in, then with a stifled cry staggered back and fell into 
 her accustomed chair, covering her face with her 
 hands. 
 
 " Poor woman ! She caught him in the act," mur- 
 mured the abbe" ; and Valerie, with a smile of con- 
 temptuous triumph, swept past him into the little room, 
 uttered a loud shriek, and fell senseless to the floor. 
 
 " Great heavens ! " exclaimed the priest, following 
 her, and halting petrified upon the threshold.
 
 WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 361 
 
 There, in the leathern chair, beside the open win- 
 dow looking to the garden, sat Francois LeBaron, his 
 arms folded, his head bowed, his eyes fixed upon the 
 figure of his wife where she crouched rather than sat, 
 her ghastly face and wide eyes directed toward him 
 with a look of love and horror and suspense. 
 
 And yet she was first to recover self-command, and 
 rising painfully, to approach him step by step, her 
 white lips forming some noiseless phrase, her hands 
 outstretched toward him, who, dead or living, must 
 ever be dearest of all God's creatures to her heart. 
 As she reached the door he rose, and came toward 
 her, unheeding Valerie's prostrate figure in his path. 
 
 " Mary ! Wife ! " was all he said, and she was in 
 his arms; and Despard went to raise Valerie, and 
 support her to a couch ; and then arose the confusion 
 of broken phrases, and interrupting voices, and half 
 replies to half-heard questions, which take the place 
 of conversation at such a moment. But presently the 
 doctor's voice rose distinct from the confusion; and 
 the tones were cold and clear, and perhaps a little 
 mocking, a tone more familiar to the guests than to 
 the wife, or son, who had softly entered the room. 
 
 " Pardon for the annoyance I have caused you, my 
 friends. Nothing was farther from my intention than 
 the coup de thedtre I have effected, and I confess to 
 not a little annoyance when the door so suddenly 
 opened; but now" 
 
 "Yes, but how come you within? You who are 
 dead ! You whose stone we have wept over ! You 
 whose widow wears mourning weeds!" demanded
 
 362 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 Despard, his cynical humor already struggling with the 
 honest emotion of his heart. 
 
 " It is a history, my friend, and I do not just now 
 feel in an historical mood," replied the doctor impa- 
 tiently ; for the presence of these ghosts from out the 
 past irritated him, and he longed to be alone with the 
 wife to whom he would have spoken so differently. 
 " Quite in brief, then, I arrived in a brig from New 
 Orleans an hour since, I met my son upon the wharf, 
 I sent him before me to prepare my wife for my 
 appearance, wishing, of all things, to prevent startling 
 or annoying her, and to avoid a scene. The boy saw 
 guests through the window, and ran back to tell me ; 
 I bade him go softly through the garden window into 
 my office, and unbolt the door to me ; he did so, and 
 I seated myself, partly to calm some inconvenient 
 emotions of my own, partly to wait until my wife 
 should be alone. So sitting, I heard enough to make 
 out the proposition with which you, madame, have 
 honored us, and to coincide perfectly with my wife's 
 decision. As she justly said, she spoke for me and 
 for herself, yes, and for the boy too, although, that you 
 may never resume the idea, you shall ask him for 
 yourself, and now. There he is." 
 
 But Valerie, revived by the care Mary had forgotten 
 her own emotions to render, shook her head, her 
 mournful eyes fixed upon Francois, who met them 
 steadily and without emotion. 
 
 "Speak you then, abbS," resumed the doctor. 
 " There is my boy : what would you of him ? " 
 
 " If I might talk quietly and more at length witt
 
 
 WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 363 
 
 Monsieur Lazarus " began the abbe" ; but the doctor 
 impatiently interrupted, "You may: you shall leave 
 no loophole for the future, only you shall promise 
 solemnly to reveal nothing at present hidden, or stay 
 pardon me, man pere, but I had rather, on the whole, 
 make the proposition myself, and here and now. 
 Listen, Lazarus ! you told me of the young girl you 
 met last night, and of this lady and gentleman speak- 
 ing to you this morning : that young lady is daughter 
 of this lady. She is, as you say, beautiful, she is very 
 rich, very highly born and educated ; and her mother, 
 for reasons I do not choose you to know, unless you 
 accept the offer, wishes you to marry this demoiselle, 
 her fortune, and her title, which would become your 
 own. She and this gentleman will take you with then> 
 to their home, and give you every advantage ana 
 luxury possible to procure, and I make no doubt will 
 treat you with all courtesy and kindness; possibly 
 affection, but of that I am not so clear. This is a 
 fair picture of what you offer, abbe", is it not? " 
 " Yes, my doctor, fair, but very inadequate." 
 "You hear, Lazarus. The abb means that I have 
 only given a bald outline, which you may fill in with 
 all the glowing additions you fancy, especially in the 
 direction of the young lady. The reverse of the 
 picture is, that from the moment you leave this place 
 for this object, you become an utter stranger to your 
 mother, to me, and to our home. You become for 
 me, merely a part of the association I have struggled 
 for twenty years to clear myself from, and to forget. 
 Your name, your country, your life, will all be hateful
 
 364 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 to me, and my only effort in your direction will be to 
 forget your existence. My wife, do I speak your 
 mind, as you but now did mine ? " 
 
 "Yes, Francis, in all things." 
 
 "Then, my boy, you have the whole thing before 
 you, and you are to give your reply without fear 01 
 favor." 
 
 " Pardon," interposed the abbe, " but if the young 
 gentleman were to have a little time to consider. We 
 do not leave this until to-morrow : will you permit 
 that he have the night to think of it, perhaps to visit 
 us this evening?" 
 
 The doctor hesitated, casting an uneasy glance at 
 the boy, whose fair face and honest eyes were turned 
 intently toward his mother. It was she who spoke, 
 and it was with a smile of proud confidence into her 
 son's face, 
 
 " If you will have my opinion of it, my husband, I 
 would say yes. I will trust Lazarus to go there." 
 
 " Very well," replied the doctor, looking from one 
 to the other. " You will not forget what I have said, 
 my boy?" 
 
 " Not a word, father." 
 
 " And you are quite sure that I say no more than I 
 mean, and will carry out? " 
 
 " I am quite sure, sir. You always do as you prom- 
 ise, and so does my mother, and so will I." 
 
 " Ay, say you so ? " and the father well pleased held 
 out his hand, which Lazarus grasped manfully, and 
 looked across at his mother, leaning upon her hus- 
 band's shoulder in rare disregard of the presence of 
 spectators.
 
 WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 365 
 
 "And I, for my part, promise," continued the doc- 
 tor, " that neither my wife nor I will say another word 
 upon this subject in presence of the boy, until aftei 
 he has given you his answer at nine o'clock to-morrow 
 morning ; and he shall be with you this evening, on 
 condition, always, that my secret is religiously kept 
 Do you promise for yourself and the ladies, abb6 ? " 
 
 " I swear it, doctor." 
 
 "That is finished, then." And Dr. LeBaron so 
 plainly wished the interview also to be finished, that 
 Valerie indignantly rose to go ; but Despard, prevent- 
 ing her, said in his genial fashion, 
 
 " But after all, man docteur, how came you alive ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! I forgot. This devil of a pirate excuse 
 me, ladies, but he really was just that had, as it seems, 
 assured himself of the list of passengers on board the 
 poor ' Belle Isle ; ' and as he had especial need of a 
 physician and surgeon at his charming country-seat, 
 he gave command, before boarding, to look out for 
 me, and secure me alive. It was done by means of a 
 blow from the handle of a cutlass upon my head, 
 which floored me like an ox " 
 
 "Francis ! " 
 
 "Nay, Molly, 'tis all well long ago, silly child. 
 When I opened my eyes it was on board the pirogue 
 and the same night I was landed upon the island of 
 Monsieur Black Beard, where two or three of his wives 
 nursed me until I was well enough to nurse them, and 
 to set the leg of a young ruffian, son of Black Beard, 
 and already a greater villain. They watched me well 
 and kept me safe for a year and over, when I man
 
 366 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 aged my escape by a boat to a neighboring island, 
 then to another where fishing-craft sometimes put in 
 for water, from there to New Orleans and home. Will 
 that do for a very weary man? " 
 
 " Perfectly ; and as madame is an invalid, and needs 
 rest, we will, if you please, say au rcvoir, and return 
 to our lodgings. We shall see you this evening? " 
 
 The doctor bowed profoundly in reply to Valerie's 
 profound courtesy ; but neither spoke, neither offered 
 a hand, neither sought the other's eyes. It was such 
 courtesy as only flourishes upon the grave of dead, 
 dead love. 
 
 Another moment and the visitors were gone ; and as 
 the door closed, the doctor turned to his wife, his face 
 aglow, his arms wide open, his voice broken with love 
 and longing, as he cried, 
 
 " My wife, my darling, my own 1 " 
 
 It was Lazarus who interrupted that moment of 
 paradise ; and he opened the door to say in his grave 
 and sonorous tones, 
 
 " Mother, the pullet is roasted to a turn, and I have 
 taken the pasty out of the oven." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I will come ! " exclaimed Mary, her face 
 all aglow as she extricated herself from her husband's 
 arms, and followed Lazarus to the kitchen. 
 
 The next morning about ten o'clock, Master Laza- 
 rus again entered the sitting-room. His mother sat 
 in her own chair, looking over a little pile of clothes, 
 remnant of the doctor's ample outfit. He sat in his 
 leathern chair beside the garden window of the study, 
 smoking his pipe, and narrating his adventures in a
 
 WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 367 
 
 tone of whimsical gravity all his own. As the boy 
 entered he became silent, and looked at his wife : she, 
 less self-conscious, looked at her son, her soul in her 
 eyes. Lazarus came close to her side, laid his arms 
 about her neck and kissed her tenderly, then, going to 
 his father, slipped a shy hand into his saying, 
 
 " They've sailed, father ; and the gentleman bade me 
 say good-by to you for all of them; and the lady 
 added, ' And tell him we shall trouble him no more : 
 he is safe.' " 
 
 " And the demoiselle ? What said she ? " asked the 
 father grimly. Lazarus blushed scarlet, and slid be- 
 hind his father's shoulder as he muttered, 
 
 " She said nought, but she gave me this ! " 
 And the boy just showed a knot of carnation ribbons, 
 then hid it in his breast. LeBaron smiled a little 
 sadly, and, patting the child's, shoulder said, 
 
 "Well, well, it's all over, then, is it?" 
 
 " Yes, father, quite all over." 
 
 "There, then, go to thy mother, and she'll comfort 
 thee as mothers can. You have done well, my boy, 
 and escaped right easil^' 
 
 " Sit down and listen to father's story of the pirate, 
 Lazarus/' said Mary quietly ; and the lad obeyed.
 
 368 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 GOOD-BY. 
 
 T)ROBABLY Francois, le baron de Rien-de-Tout 
 JT as he once styled himself, in all his chequered 
 life enjoyed few things more than superintending the 
 uprooting of his own monumental stone, and erecting 
 it afresh in his own garden, precisely opposite the 
 office window and leathern chair ; and many was the 
 quiet hour he spent, pipe in mouth, gazing dreamily 
 out upon it, a placid smile upon his lips, a humorous 
 twinkle in his eye. 
 
 And, final proof of his wife's devotion and woman- 
 liness : few things annoyed her more than this habit, 
 and yet she never spoke of it. 
 
 Valerie's last promise was kept. Never more came 
 tidings over sea to disturb tbe quiet of that simple 
 home, the hard-fought peace of that strange, nameless 
 life; never flew butterfly or humming-bird from the 
 rose-gardens of Provence to the bleak shores of 
 Plymouth Bay, but the pure breath of the Mayflower 
 perfumed those barren shores, and heart's-ease bloomed 
 in Mary's garden-plot, nor failed as the years went on. 
 
 Lazarus married, nor once alone ; and his second 
 wife was daughter of the Bradfords : many children 
 sat around his board, and went out into the world
 
 GOOD-B y. 369 
 
 carrying the new name of LeBaron ; but the fairest 
 the best-beloved, the nearest to her father's heart, of 
 all the girls, was his daughter Therese ; and it was his 
 whim, or one of them, for this Dr. LeBaron, like the 
 first, was whimsical and reticent, to like to see her 
 dark hair decked with carnation ribbons. 
 
 On the crest of Burying-Hill stands to-day, just 
 where Dr. Francois uprooted his mistaken memorial, 
 another stone, of black marble, and stately even in its 
 decrepitude : it bears the inscription, true this time, 
 although not all of the truth : 
 
 Here lyes y Body 
 
 of 
 
 DOCTOR FRANCIS LEBARON 
 
 A natyve of France and Physiciam 
 
 of Plymouth. 
 
 AD 1704