“I should certainly not have recognized you, Monsieur Kennedy.  What with my own fright, and, I may say, the condition of your face, I had but a faint idea of what you were really like; but I certainly did not think that you were so young.  You had such a masterful way with you, and seemed to know so perfectly what ought to be done, that I took you to be much older than you now look.”

“I joined the regiment but little more than three months ago,” Desmond said, “and am its youngest ensign.”

“Monsieur, I owe to you more than my life, for, had it not been for you, I should have been forced into marriage with one whom I despise.”

“I cannot think that, mademoiselle.  From what I saw of you, I should say that you would have resisted all threats, and even undergone hopeless imprisonment, rather than yield.”

“There is no saying, Monsieur Kennedy,” the baron said.  “Anne is of good blood, and I know that it would have been hard to break down her will, but confinement and hopelessness will tell on the bravest spirit.  However that may be, she and I are your debtors for life.”

“Indeed, Monsieur Kennedy,” the girl said, “I pray you to believe that I am more grateful to you than words can express.”

“I pray you to say no more about it, mademoiselle.  I deem it a most fortunate circumstance, that I was able to come to your assistance, and especially so, when I found that the lady I had rescued was one whose disappearance had made so great a stir; but I should have been glad to render such service to one in the poorest condition.”

“My daughter said that you asked her no questions, Monsieur Kennedy, and you therefore are, I suppose, in ignorance of the name of her abductor?”

“Altogether.”

“It was the Vicomte de Tulle, one who stands very high in the regard of the king, and who is one of the most extravagant and dissipated, even of the courtiers here.  For some time, it has been reported that he had nigh ruined himself by his lavish expenditure, and doubtless he thought to reestablish his finances by this bold stroke.

“His plans were well laid.  He waited until I had gone to Paris on business that would keep me there for a day or two.  A messenger arrived with a letter, purporting to be from me, saying that I wished my daughter to join me at once, and had sent a carriage to take her to me.  Anne is young, and, suspecting no harm, at once threw on a mantle and hood, and entered the carriage.  It was broad daylight, and there was nothing to disquiet her until, on approaching the town, the carriage turned off the main road.  This struck her as strange, and she was just about to ask the question where she was being taken, when the carriage stopped in a lonely spot, the door was opened, and a man stepped in.

“Before she had even time to recognize him, he threw a thick cloak over her head.  She struggled in vain to free herself, but he held her fast.  Again and again, she tried to cry out, but her mouth was muffled by the wrapping.  She had heard the blinds of the carriage drawn, and finding that her struggles to free herself were vain, and receiving no answer to her supplications to be released, she remained quiet until the carriage stopped.  Then she was lifted out, and carried into the house where you found her.