“Right well.  I have much to tell you of.”

“I trust that you have held yourself apart from all their popish devilry.”

“Yes, yes, Ephraim.”

“And have had no truck with the scarlet woman.”

“No, no; but what is it now?”

The grizzled hair was bristling with rage, and the little gray eyes were gleaming from under the heavy tufts.  Amos, following their gaze, saw that De Catinat was seated with his arm round Adele, while her head rested upon his shoulder.

“Ah, if I but knew their snip-snap, lippetty-chippetty lingo!  Saw one ever such a sight!  Amos, lad, what is the French for ’a shameless hussy’?”

“Nay, nay, Ephraim.  Surely one may see such a sight, and think no harm of it, on our side of the water.

“Never, Amos.  In no godly country.”

“Tut!  I have seen folks courting in New York.”

“Ah, New York!  I said in no godly country.  I cannot answer for New York or Virginia.  South of Cape Cod, or of New Haven at the furthest, there is no saying what folk will do.  Very sure I am that in Boston or Salem or Plymouth she would see the bridewell and he the stocks for half as much.  Ah!” He shook his head and bent his brows at the guilty couple.

But they and their old relative were far too engrossed with their own affairs to give a thought to the Puritan seaman.  De Catinat had told his tale in a few short, bitter sentences, the injustice that had been done to him, his dismissal from the king’s service, and the ruin which had come upon the Huguenots of France.  Adele, as is the angel instinct of woman, thought only of her lover and his misfortunes as she listened to his story, but the old merchant tottered to his feet when he heard of the revocation of the Edict, and stood with shaking limbs, staring about him in bewilderment.

“What am I to do?” he cried.  “What am I to do?  I am too old to begin my life again.”

“Never fear, uncle,” said De Catinat heartily.  “There are other lands beyond France.”

“But not for me.  No, no; I am too old.  Lord, but Thy hand is heavy upon Thy servants.  Now is the vial opened, and the carved work of the sanctuary thrown down.  Ah, what shall I do, and whither shall I turn?” He wrung his hands in his perplexity.

“What is amiss with him, then, Amos?” asked the seaman.  “Though I know nothing of what he says, yet I can see that he flies a distress signal.”

“He and his must leave the country, Ephraim.”

“And why?”

“Because they are Protestants, and the king will not abide their creed.”

Ephraim Savage was across the room in an instant, and had enclosed the old merchant’s thin hand in his own great knotted fist.  There was a brotherly sympathy in his strong grip and rugged weather-stained face which held up the other’s courage as no words could have done.