n bestow your daughter-in-law on a good, honest man, able to
silence the whispers of malice, there will be measures taken that will
do shame both to your own gray hairs and to the memory of your dead son,
as well as expose the poor young woman herself. You are one who has
a true tongue, Isaac Gardon; and if you can assure me that she is a
faithful, good woman, as poor Mace thinks her, and will give her to him
in testimony thereof, then shall not a mouth open against her. If not,
in spite of all my esteem for you, the discipline of the Reformed must
take its course.'

'And for what?' said Isaac, with a grave tone, almost of reproof. 'What
discipline can punish a woman for letting her infant wear a coloured
ribbon, and shielding it from a blow?'

'That is not all, Master Isaac,' said the Duchess, seriously. 'In spite
of your much-respected name, evil and censorious tongues will have it
that matters ought to be investigated; that there is some mystery; that
the young woman does not give a satisfactory account of herself, and
that the child does not resemble either her or your son--in short, that
you may be deceived by an impostor, perhaps a Catholic spy. Mind, I say
not that I credit all this, only I would show you what reports you must
guard against.'

'_La pauvre petite_!' said Isaac, under his breath, as if appalled; then
collecting himself, he said, 'Madame, these are well-nigh threats. I had
come hither nearly resolved to confined in you without them.'

'Then there is a mystery?'

'Yes, Madame, but the deception is solely in the name. She is, in very
truth, a widow of a martyr of the St. Barthelemy, but that martyr was
not my son, whose wife was happy in dying with him.'

'And who, then, is she?'

'Madame la Duchesse had heard of the family of Ribaumont.'

'Ha! M. de Ribaumont! A gay comrade of King Henry II., but who had his
eyes opened to the truth by M. l'Amiral, though he lacked courage for an
open profession. Yes, the very last pageant I beheld at court, was the
wedding of his little son to the Count de Ribaumont's daughter. It was
said that the youth was one of our victims at Paris.'

'Even so, Madame; and this poor child is the little one whom you saw
wedded to him.' And then, in answer to the Duchess's astonished inquiry,
he proceeded to relate how Eustacie had been forced to fly from her
kindred, and how he had first encountered her at his own lurking-placed,
and had accepted her as a charge imposed