‘He is free now,’ said Lady Thistlewood, beginning to cry (for the last letters received from Berenger had been those from Paris, while he still believed Eustacie to have perished at La Sablerie); ’and I do say it is very hard that just when he is rid of the French baggage, the bane of his life, and is coming home, maybe with a child upon his hands, and all wounded, scarred, and blurred, the only wench he would or should have married should throw herself away on a French vagabond beggar, and you aiding and abetting.’

‘Come, come, Dame Nan,’ said Sir Marmaduke, ’who told you I was aiding and abetting?’

’Tell me not, Sir Duke, you that see them a courting under your very eyes, and will not stir a finger to hinder it.  If you like to see your daughter take up with a foreign adventurer, why, she’s no child of mine, thank Heaven!  And I’ve nought to do with it.’

’Pshaw, dame, there’s no taking up in the case; and if there were, sure it is not you that should be hard on Lucy.’

Whereupon Annora fell into such a flood of tears at the cruelty of casting such things up to her, that Sir Marmaduke was fain in his blundering way to declare that he only meant that an honest Englishman had no chance where a Frenchman once came in, and then very nearly to surrender at discretion.  At any rate, he escaped from her tears by going out at the door, and calling to Lucy to mind her rose-leaves; then, as she gazed round, dismayed at the pink track along the ground, he asked her what she had been doing.  Whereto she answered with bright face and honest eyes, that Mr. Mericour had been going over with her the ode ‘Jam satis,’ of Horatius, wherewith to prepare little Nan for him to-morrow, and then she ran hurriedly away to secure the remainder of the rose-leaves, while her companion was already on his knees picking up the petals she had dropped.

‘Master Merrycourt,’ said Sir Marmaduke, a little gruffly, ’never heed the flower-leaves.  I want a word with you.’

Claude de Mericour rose hastily, as if somewhat struck by the tone.

‘The matter is this,’ said the knight, leading him from the house, and signing back the little girls who had sprung towards them—­’it has been brought to my mind that you are but a youth, and, pardon me, my young master, but when lads and lasses have their heads together over one book, tongues wag.’

The colour rushed hotly into young Mericour’s face, and he answered quickly, ‘My rank—­I mean my order—­should answer that.’

’Stay, young man, we are not in France; your order, be it what it may, has not hindered many a marriage in England; though, look you, no man should ever wed with my consent who broke his word to God in so doing; but they tell me your vows are not always made at your age.’

‘Nor are they,’ exclaimed Mericour, in a low voice, but with a sudden light on his countenance.  ’The tonsure was given me as a child, but no vow of celibacy has passed my lips.’