“Father, I have promised to marry Charlie and no other, and I will do so; you used to like him ere ‘my Lord Protector Cromwell’ turned the heads, if not gained the hearts, of nearly all but the loyal soldiery!  And now I will never marry any one but Charlie.  You have made me speak thus to you Father; I don’t think you ought to try to make me marry one whom in my heart I despise; and who you know well is not a good man.”

“Ah! that is thy spirit, is it?  Well, we’ll see; I doubt if thou wilt find that fine soldier of thine alive much longer; it would be a good and commendable deed to sweep all such from the face of the earth.”

“Yes, surely, commendable, but only in the eyes of those who murdered our poor King, Father; but we will speak no more of these things.  You are tired with your day’s work, and are not like yourself to-night.  I hear Hirzel’s voice, so I will go and meet him; we are to have a walk this evening, and you can talk quietly with Jacques, but not a word about me; you know what my thoughts are now, Father.”

Having thus spoken, Marguerite left the house, and after going through the garden gate, she entered a pretty lane which was abundantly blessed by Nature with a quantity of ferns and wild flowers.  It was just beginning to grow dusk, and she saw not far off Jacques Gaultier and her brother.  The latter was singing in his native patois a gay song, much to the horror of Jacques, who thought it was dreadful to do such a thing.  Dropping his usual air of hypocritical stiffness (adopted by so many to fall in with the custom of the times), he hastened forward to meet Marguerite, and with a show of politeness, wonderful for the rough Jacques, raised his hat and said, “Good evening, Marguerite; it is my fault that thy brother is late; I kept him while I was getting ready some bobbins which I have made in the hope that thou wilt take them from me.”

“I thank thee, Jacques Gaultier, but I do not want thy bobbins; keep them for some other girl:  I am teaching many this same work, and no doubt you will find some one glad to get them.  I am going to-night where I shall get a set made by some one whom I like better than Jacques Gaultier.  My father is waiting, so go to him; come Hirzel, don’t delay me longer.”

Jacques moved off muttering to himself, and with a most murderous look on his dark face.  Poor Charlie would have fared badly had he been in this man’s power just now!

CHAPTER III.

We will follow Gaultier into the mill, leaving Marguerite and her brother to pursue their intention of having a walk, and hear what old Pierre has to say.  On Jacques entering the room he found the old man in a state of great disquietude—­in fact, in a very great rage.  He had by no means recovered his daughter’s assertion that she would never marry anyone but Charles Heyward.