that would have crushed or alienated a different disposition.  It was not till the party had emerged from the wood upon a stubble field, where a covey of partridges flew up, and to Beranger’s rapturous delight furnished a victim for Ysonde, that M. de Ribaumont dismounted from the pony, and walking towards home, called his son to his side, and asked him how he had learnt the intentions of the Count and the Chevalier.  Beranger explained how Eustacie had come to warn him, and also told what she had said of Diane de Ribaumont, who had lately, by her father’s request, spent a few weeks at the chateau with her cousins.

‘My son,’ said the Baron, ’it is hard to ask of babes caution and secrecy; but I must know from thee what thy cousin may have heard of our doings?’

‘I cannot tell, father,’ replied Beranger; ’we played more than we talked.  Yet, Monsieur, you will not be angry with Eustacie if I tell you what she said to me to-day?’

‘Assuredly not, my son.’

’She said that her father would take her away if he knew what M. le Baron read, and what he sung.’

’Thou hast done well to tell me, my son.  Thinkest thou that this comes from Diane, or from one of the servants?’

’Oh, from Diane, my father; none of the servants would dare to say such a thing.’

‘It is as I suspected then,’ said the Baron.  ’That child was sent amongst us as a spy.’  Tell me, Beranger, had she any knowledge of our intended journey to England?’

’To England!  But no, father, I did not even know it was intended.  To England—­to that Walwyn which my mother takes such pains to make us speak rightly.  Are we then, going?’

’Listen, my son.  Thou hast to-day proved thyself worthy of trust, and thou shalt hear.  My son, ere yet I knew the truth I was a reckless disobedient youth, and I bore thy mother from her parents in England without their consent.  Since, by Heaven’s grace, I have come to a better mind, we have asked and obtained their forgiveness, and it has long been their desire to see again their daughter and her son.  Moreover, since the accession of the present Queen, it has been a land where the light is free to shine forth; and though I verily believe what Maitre Gardon says, that persecution is a blessed means of grace, yet it is grievous to expose one’s dearest thereto when they are in no state to count the cost.  Therefore would I thither convey you all, and there amid thy mother’s family would we openly abjure the errors in which we have been nurture.  I have already sent to Paris to obtain from the Queen-mother the necessary permission to take my family to visit thy grand-father, and it must now be our endeavour to start immediately on the receipt of the reply, before the Chevalier’s information can lead to any hindrance or detention of Eustacie.’

‘Then Eustacie will go with us, Monsieur?’

’Certainly.  Nothing is more important than that her faith should be the same as yours!  But discretion, my son:  not a word to the little one.’