e!'

'Living! Oh, yes, my love, my Lady,' answered Perrine, returning towards
her; 'fair and perfect as the day. Be not disquieted for a moment.'

'I will--I will disquiet myself,' panted Eustacie, 'unless you tell me
what is amiss.'

'Nothing amiss,' said Nanon, gruffly. 'Madame will give thanks for this
fair gift of a daughter.'

It must be owned the words felt chill. She had never thought of this! It
was as if the being for whom she had dared and suffered so much, in the
trust that he would be Berenger's representative and avenger, had failed
her and disappointed her. No defender, no paladin, no so to be proud of!
Her heart and courage sank down in her weakness as they had never done
before; and, without speaking, she turned her head away towards the
darkness, feeling as if had been for nothing, and she might as well
sink away in her exhaustion. Mere Perrine was more angry with Nanon than
conscious of her Lady's weakness. 'Woman, you speak as if you knew not
the blow to this family, and to all who hoped for better days. What,
that my Lady, the heiress, who ought to be in a bed of state, with
velvet curtains, lace pillows, gold caudle-cups, should be here in a
vile ruin, among owls and bats, like any beggar, and all for the sake,
not of a young Lord to raise up the family, but of a miserable little
girl! Had I known how it would turn out, I had never meddled in this mad
scheme.'

Before Nanon could express her indignation, Eustacie had turned her head
opened her eyes, and called out, 'Miserable! Oh! what do you mean? Oh,
it is true, Nanon? is it well with her?

'As well as heart could wish,' answered Nanon, cheerily. 'Small, but
a perfect little piece of sugar. There, Lady, she shall speak for
herself.'

And as Nanon laid the babe on the young mother's bosom, the thrilling
touch at once put an end to all the repinings of the heiress, and awoke
far other instincts.

'My child! my little one, my poor little orphan--all cruel to her! Oh,
no welcome even from thy mother! Babe, babe, pardon me, I will make it
up to thee; indeed I will! Oh! let me see her! Do not take her away,
dear good woman, only hold her in the moonlight!'

The full rays of the moon, shining through the gable window, streamed
down very near where Eustacie lay, and by a slight movement Dame Rotrou
was able to render the little face as distinctly visible to her as if
it had been daylight, save that the blanching light was somewhat
embellishing