you'll dive in the pocket
of this dirty old garment, you'll find my flask. . . . I am demmed if I
can move."

When he had drunk some brandy, he forced Marguerite to do likewise.

"La! that's better now! Eh! little woman?" he said, with a sigh of
satisfaction. "Heigh-ho! but this is a queer rig-up for Sir Percy
Blakeney, Bart., to be found in by his lady, and no mistake. Begad!" he
added, passing his hand over his chin, "I haven't been shaved for nearly
twenty hours: I must look a disgusting object. As for these curls . . ."

And laughingly he took off the disfiguring wig and curls, and stretched
out his long limbs, which were cramped from many hours' stooping. Then
he bent forward and looked long and searchingly into his wife's blue
eyes.

"Percy," she whispered, while a deep blush suffused her delicate cheeks
and neck, "if you only knew . . ."

"I do know, dear . . . everything," he said with infinite gentleness.

"And can you ever forgive?"

"I have naught to forgive, sweetheart; your heroism, your devotion,
which I, alas! so little deserved, have more than atoned for that
unfortunate episode at the ball."

"Then you knew? . . ." she whispered, "all the time . . ."

"Yes!" he replied tenderly, "I knew . . . all the time. . . . But,
begad! had I but known what a noble heart yours was, my Margot, I should
have trusted you, as you deserved to be trusted, and you would not have
had to undergo the terrible sufferings of the past few hours, in order
to run after a husband, who has done so much that needs forgiveness."

They were sitting side by side, leaning up against a rock, and he had
rested his aching head on her shoulder. She certainly now deserved the
name of "the happiest woman in Europe."

"It is a case of the blind leading the lame, sweetheart, is it not?" he
said with his good-natured smile of old. "Odd's life! but I do not know
which are the more sore, my shoulders or your little feet."

He bent forward to kiss them, for they peeped out through her torn
stockings, and bore pathetic witness to her endurance and devotion.

"But Armand . . ." she said with sudden terror and remorse, as in the
midst of her happiness the image of the beloved brother, for whose sake
she had so deeply sinned, rose now before her mind.

"Oh! have no fear for Armand, sweetheart," he said tenderly, "did I not
pledge you my word that he should be safe? He with de Tournay and the
others are even now on board the DAY DREAM."