That used to sting Annora beyond all measure.  Sometimes she would reply by pouring out a catalogue of all the worst offences of our own Church, and Heaven knows she could find enough of them!  Or at others she would appeal to the lives of all the best people she had ever heard of in England, and especially of Eustace, declaring that she knew she herself was far from good, but that was not the fault of her religion, but of herself; and she would really strive to be submissive and obliging for many days afterwards.

Meantime the Prince of Conde had returned, and had met the Court at Ruel.  M. d’Aubepine and M. de Solivet both were coming with him, and my poor little Cecile wrote letter after letter to her husband, quite correct in grammar and orthography, asking whether she should have the Hotel d’Aubepine prepared, and hire servants to receive him; but she never received a line in reply.  She was very anxious to know whether the concierge had received any orders, and yet she could not bear to betray her ignorance.

I had been startled by passing in the street a face which I was almost sure belonged to poor Cecile’s former enemy, Mademoiselle Gringrimeau, now the wife of Croquelebois, the intendant of the estate; and setting old Nicole to work, I ascertained that this same agent and his wife were actually at the Hotel d’Aubepine, having come to meet their master, but that no apartments were made ready for him, as it was understood that being on the staff he would be lodge in the Hotel de Conde.

‘His duty!’ said Cecile; ’he must fulfil his duty, but at least I shall see him.’

But to hear of the intendant and his wife made me very uneasy.

The happier wives were going out in their carriages to meet their husbands on the road, but Cecile did not even know when he was coming, nor by what road.

‘So much the better,’ said our English Nan.  ’If I had a husband, I would never make him look foolish in the middle of the road with a woman and a pack of children hanging on him!’

No one save myself understood her English bashfulness, shrinking from all display of sentiment, and I—­ah!  I had known such blissful meetings, when my Philippe had been full of joy to see me come out to meet him.  Ah! will he meet me thus at the gates of Paradise?  It cannot be far off now!

I knew I should weep all the way if I set out with my mother to meet her son; and Cecile was afraid both of the disappointment if she did not meet her husband, and of his being displeased if he should come.  So she only took with her Annora and M. de Solivet’s two daughters, Gabrielle and Petronille, who were fetched from the Convent of the Visitation.  There they sat in the carriage, Nan told me, exactly alike in their pensionnaire’s uniform, still and shy on the edge of the seat, not daring to look to the right or left, and answering under their breath, so that she longed to shake them.  I found afterwards