at back, and begged the others to speak English,
saying that it was her mother tongue, and she loved the sound of it,
but really trying to efface herself, while the eager conversation
between the two young people went on about their homes.

Charles had not been there more recently than Anne, and his letters
were at least two months old, but the intelligence in them was as
water to her thirsty soul. All was well, she heard, including the
little heir of Archfield, though the young father coloured a little,
and shuffled over the answers to the inquiries with a rather sad
smile. Charles was, however, greatly improved. He had left behind
him the loutish, unformed boy, and had become a handsome, courteous,
well-mannered gentleman. The very sight of him handing Madame de
Bellaise in and out of her coach was a wonder in itself when Anne
recollected how he had been wont to hide himself in the shrubbery to
prevent being called upon for such services, and how uncouthly in
the last extremity he would perform them.

Madame de Bellaise was inhabiting her son's great Hotel de
Nidemerle. He was absent in garrison, and she was presiding over
the family of grandchildren, their mother being in bad health. So
much Anne heard before she was conducted to a pleasant little
bedroom, far more home-like and comfortable than in any of the
palaces she had inhabited. It opened into another, whence merry
young voices were heard.

"That is the apartment of my sister's youngest daughter," said
Madame de Bellaise, "Noemi Darpent. I borrowed her for a little
while to teach her French and dancing, but now that we are gone to
war, they want to have her back again, and it will be well that she
should avail herself of the same escort as yourself. All will then
be selon les convenances, which had been a difficulty to me," she
added with a laugh.

Then opening the door of communication she said; "Here, Noemi, we
have found your countrywoman, and I put her under your care. Ah!
you two chattering little pies, I knew the voices were yours. This
is my granddaughter, Marguerite de Nidemerle, and my niece--a la
mode de Bretagne--Cecile d'Aubepine, all bestowing their chatter on
their cousin."

Noemi Darpent was a tall, fair, grave-faced maiden, some years over
twenty, and so thoroughly English that it warmed Anne's heart to
look at her, and the other two were bright little Frenchwomen--
Marguerite a pretty blonde, Cecile pale, dark, and sallow, bu