rigin whose brother was a blacksmith, whose aunt was a Quakeress, and
who wandered about the park of Acol with hollow eyes fixed longingly on
the much-courted heiress.

Dame Harrison and Mistress Pyncheon both instinctively turned a
scrutinizing gaze on her ladyship. Neither of them was perhaps
ordinarily very observant, but self-interest had made them keen, and it
would have been impossible not to note the strange atmosphere which
seemed suddenly to pervade the entire personality of the young girl.

There was nothing in her face now expressive of whole-hearted
partisanship for an absent friend, such as she had displayed when she
felt that young Lambert was being unjustly sneered at; rather was it a
kind of entranced and arrested thought, as if her mind, having come in
contact with one all-absorbing idea, had ceased to function in any other
direction save that one.

Her cheeks no longer glowed, they seemed pale and transparent like those
of an ascetic; her lips were slightly parted, her eyes appeared
unconscious of everything round her, and gazing at something enchanting
beyond that bank of clouds which glimmered, snow-white, through the
trees.

"But what in the name of common sense is a French prince doing in Acol
village?" ejaculated Dame Harrison in her most strident voice, which had
the effect of drawing every one's attention to herself and to Sir
Marmaduke, whom she was thus addressing.

The men ceased playing and gathered nearer. The spell was broken. That
strange and mysterious look vanished from Lady Sue's face; she turned
away from the speakers and idly plucked a few bunches of acorn from an
overhanging oak.

"Of a truth," replied Sir Marmaduke, whose eyes were still steadily
fixed on his ward, "I know as little about the fellow, ma'am, as you do
yourself. He was exiled from France by King Louis for political reasons,
so he explained to the old woman Lambert, with whom he is still lodging.
I understand that he hardly ever sleeps at the cottage, that his
appearances there are short and fitful and that his ways are passing
mysterious.... And that is all I know," he added in conclusion, with a
careless shrug of the shoulders.

"Quite a romance!" remarked Mistress Pyncheon dryly.

"You should speak to him, good Sir Marmaduke," said Dame Harrison
decisively, "you are a magistrate. 'Tis your duty to know more of this
fellow and his antecedents."

"Scarcely that, ma'am," rejoined Sir Marmaduke, "you underst