The d’Angouleme complication troubled me greatly, notwithstanding my faith in Mary, and although I had resolved to say nothing to Brandon about it, I soon told him plainly what I thought and feared.

He replied with a low, contented little laugh.

“Do not fear for Mary, I do not.  That young fellow is of different stuff, I know, from the old king, but I have all faith in her purity and ability to take care of herself.  Before she left she promised to be true to me, whatever befell, and I trust her entirely.  I am not so unhappy by any means as one would expect.  Am I?” And I was compelled to admit that he certainly was not.

So it seems they had met, as Jane and I suspected, but how Mary managed it I am sure I cannot tell; she beat the very deuce for having her own way, by hook or by crook.  Then came the bulky letter, which Brandon pounced upon and eagerly devoured.  I leave out most of the sentimental passages, which, like effervescent wine, lose flavor quickly.  She said—­in part: 

  “To Master Brandon:

“Sir and Dear Friend, Greeting—­After leaving thee, long time had I that mighty grief and dole within my heart that it was like to break; for my separation from thee was so much harder to bear even than I had taken thought of, and I also doubted me that I could live in Paris, as I did wish.  Sleep rested not upon my weary eyes, and of a very deed could I neither eat nor drink, since food distasted me like a nausea, and wine did strangle in my throat.  This lasted through my journey hither, which I did prolong upon many pretexts, nearly two months, but when I did at last rest mine eyes for the first time upon this King Louis’s face, I well knew that I could rule him, and when I did arrive, and had adjusted myself in this Paris, I found it so easy that my heart leaped for very joy.  Beauty goeth so far with this inflammable people that easily do I rule them all, and truly doth a servile subject make a sharp, capricious tyrant.  Thereby the misfortune which hath come upon us is of so much less evil, and is so like to be of such short duration, that I am almost happy—­but for lack of thee—­and sometimes think that after all it may verily be a blessing unseen.

“This new, unexpected face upon our trouble hath so driven the old gnawing ache out of my heart that I love to be alone, and dream, open-eyed, of the time, of a surety not far off, when I shall be with thee....  It is ofttimes sore hard for me, who have never waited, to have to wait, like a patient Griselda, which of a truth I am not, for this which I do so want; but I try to make myself content with the thought that full sure it will not be for long, and that when this tedious time hath spent itself, we shall look back upon it as a very soul-school, and shall rather joy that we did not purchase our heaven too cheaply.

“I said I find it easy to live here as I wish, and did begin to tell thee how it was,