‘But that he should be so set on the little bloodthirsty baggage,’ sighed Lady Thistlewood; and then going up to her son, she poured out her explanation of being unable to stay, as her parents were already at the Manor, with no better entertainers than Lucy, Philip, and the children.  She thanked him for the gifts, which she would take to them with his love.  All this passed by him as though he heard it not, but when leaning down, she kissed his forehead, and at the same time tried to withdraw the knot of ribbon:  his fingers closed on it with a grasp like steel, so cold were they, yet so fast.

Sir Masmaduke lingered a few moments behind her, and Berenger opening his eyes, as if to see whether solitude had been achieved, found the kind-hearted knight gazing at him with eyes full of tears.  ‘Berry, my lad,’ he said, ’bear it like a man.  I know how hard it is.  There’s not a woman of them all that an honest, plain Englishman has a chance with, when a smooth-tongued Frenchman comes round her!  But a man may live a true and honest life however sore his heart may be, and God Almighty makes it up to him if he faces it out manfully.’

Good Sir Marmaduke in his sympathy had utterly forgotten both Berenger’s French blood, and that he was the son of the very smooth-tongued interloper who had robbed his life of its first bloom.  Berenger was altogether unequal to do more than murmur, as he held out his hand in response to the kindness, ’You do not know her.’

‘Ah!  Poor lad.’  Sir Marmaduke shook his head and left him to Cecily.

After the first shock, Berenger never rested till he had made Osbert, Mr.Adderley, and Cecily tell him all they knew, and asked by name after those whom he had known best at Paris.  Alas! of all those, save such as had been in the Ambassador’s house, there was but one account to give.  Venerable warrior, noble-hearted youth, devoted pastor, all alike had perished!

This frightful part of the story was altogether new to him.  He had been probably the earliest victim in the Louvre, as being the special object of private malice, which had contrived to involve him in the general catastrophe; and his own recollections carried him only to the flitting of lights and ringing of bells, that has made him imagine that an alarm of fire would afford a good opportunity of escape if SHE would but come.  A cloaked figure had approached, —­he had held out his arms—­met that deadly stroke—­ heard the words hissed in his ear.

He owned that for some time past strange recollections had been flitting though his mind—­a perpetual unsatisfied longing for and expectation of his wife, and confused impressions of scenes and people had harassed him perpetually, even when he could not discern between dreams and reality; but knowing that he had been very ill, he had endeavoured to account for everything as delirious fancies, but had become increasingly distressed by their vividness, confusion, and want of outward confirmation.  At last these solid tokens and pledges from that time had brought certainty back, and with it the harmony and clearness of his memory:  and the strong affection, that even his oblivion had not extinguished, now recurred in all its warmth to its object.