me. Ange will explain. My father sent his compliments to
you--and he said--he said you will see that your nephew's duty lies in
France now."

Helene was astonished at her own eloquent boldness. Angelot watched
her, smiling, enchanted. Monsieur Joseph listened very gravely, his eyes
upon her troubled face. When she paused, he bent and kissed her hand.

"I do not understand the mystery," he said. "I only see that my nephew
is the most fortunate man in France. But I repeat, that he may hear
me--honour comes before happiness. Go round to the salon, my friends. I
will bring a light and open the door."

"Is it really myself--or am I dreaming?--yes, it must be all a dream!"
Helene murmured, as she sat alone in Monsieur Joseph's salon, beside a
flaming wood fire that he had lighted with his own hands.

His first shock once over, the little uncle treated his nephew's wife
like a princess. He made her sit in his largest chair, he put a cushion
behind her, a footstool under her feet. With gentle hands he lifted the
cloak that had slipped from her slight shoulders, advising her to keep
it on till the room had grown warm, for she was shivering, though hardly
conscious of it. He went himself to fetch wine and cakes, set them on a
table beside her, tried unsuccessfully to make her eat and drink. Then
he glanced at his watch and turned in his quick way to Angelot, who had
been looking on at these attentions with a smile, almost jealous of the
little uncle, yet happy that he should thus accept the new situation and
take Helene to his affectionate heart.

"Come with me, Angelot," said Monsieur Joseph. "Excuse us for a few
minutes, my dear niece,"--he bowed to Helene. "Affairs of state"--he
smiled, dancing on tiptoe with his most birdlike air.

But as Angelot followed him out of the room, his look became as stern
and secret as that of any fierce Chouan among them all.

Helene waited; the time seemed long; and her situation almost too
strange to be realised. Those small hours of the morning, dark and
weird, brought their own special chill and shiver, both physical and
spiritual; the thought began to trouble her that Angelot's father and
mother would be very angry, perhaps--would not receive them,
possibly--and that Uncle Joseph, in his lonely house, might be their
only refuge; the thought of her own mother's indignation became a
thought of terror, now that Angelot's dear presence was not there to
send it away; all these ghosts crowd