this time, ah no! and I spent all
my money in buying a dinner for those at our end of the prison, and we
even had wine! You may be sure we drank to his happiness."

Here the man, carried away by his feelings, seized his hat and waved
it in the air. Then, ashamed of his ebullition, halted and glanced
diffidently at the young lady. But Molly only smiled in encouragement.

"Well, and then?" she asked.

"Well, Mademoiselle," he resumed, "it was long before I saw him again;
but I kept good courage, as I was told. One day, at last, the guardian
came to fetch me and took me to the governor's cabinet; and my master
was there--I was told that my release had been obtained, though not
without trouble, and that Sir Adrian Landale, of Pulwick Priory, had
gone warranty for me that I should not use my liberty to the prejudice
of His Majesty, the King of England, and that I was to be grateful to
Sir Adrian. I almost laughed at him, Mademoiselle. Oh! he took care to
advise me to be grateful!" And here Rene paused ironically, but there
was a quiver on his lips. "Ah, he little knew, Monsieur the Governor,
that when my master had taken me to an inn, and the door was closed
over the private room, he who had looked so grand and careless before
the governor, took me by both hands and then, in his fine clothes,
embraced me--me the dirty prisoner--just as he did when he left me in
the old days, and was as poor and ragged as I was! And let me weep
there on his breast, for I had to weep or my heart would have broken.
But I wander, Mademoiselle, you only wanted to know how I came to be
in his service still. That is how it was; as I tell you."

Molly was moved by this artless account of fidelity and gratitude, and
as she walked on in attentive silence, Rene went on:

"It was then his honour made me know how, only by accident, and months
after his own return, he chanced to hear of the letter that some one
had sent to Mr. Landale from the Tower of Liverpool, and that Mr.
Landale had said he knew nothing of any French prisoner and had
thought it great impudence indeed. And how he--my master--had suddenly
thought (though my letter had been destroyed) that it might be from
me, the servant of my lady your mother, and his old companion in arms
(for his honour will always call me so). He could not sleep, he told
me, till he had found out. He started for Liverpool that very night.
And, having discovered that it was me, Mademoiselle, he never rested
til