e words Elliot retired with a careless bow, and the king waved his
hand gaily as he disappeared.

The forward young man bent his way, as often before, in the direction of
Maufant. On entering the garden he saw the lady of the manor--a rose
among the roses, as Malherbe might have said. The moment she perceived
Elliot she stood sternly, and with dilated eye before the entry of the
house, as if to bar the way, the united blazon of her husband's
ancestors and her own appearing above her head like a crest of battle.

"Why so stern, fair lady?" demanded the courtier, saluting her, "And why
alone?"

"My sister is not here," said Mme. de Maufant, answering but the second
of Elliot's questions. "She has spoken with you for the last time, Mr.
Elliot. I hope that I too have the same advantage. You should go home,
Monsieur, to your wife."

Elliot started, but quickly recovering himself, said, with an insolent
smile, "Always thinking of marriage, these dear creatures. Ah, ah!
madame, sits the wind in that quarter? You thought the poor Scots
gentleman might be caught by the rosy cheeks of a Jersey farm girl. _Pas
si bete_."

Rose pointed to the garden archway. "If you do not relieve me of your
presence this very instant," she said, pale and panting, "my farm
labourers shall drive you out with cudgels."

"It shall not need, madame, to pay me this last attention, so worthy of
your habits. 'Au revoir, madame!'" And with a profound and mocking
reverence the wanton cavalier slowly retreated, leaving Rose to sink,
half fainting, into a stone seat by the house door.

Elliot strode off, smarting with the sting of his well-merited
humiliation. A brief moment of reflection was enough to show its
probable origin. It was evident that the secret of his marriage had
found its way to the manor, where the court he had been paying to
Marguerite had consequently ceased to be regarded as a harmless
gallantry, and come to be taken for insult, as indeed it deserved. Nor
was it difficult to go on to guess the channel of this information. Le
Gallais was Marguerite's acknowledged lover, the person who would
benefit by the removal of a fascinating dog like Elliot--a formidable
rival, as he flattered himself such as he must be to a bumpkin officer
of militia. How Le Gallais could have learned the fact of his having a
wife in France might be a harder question, but it was one that was not
material. Revenge would be equally sweet, whether that were answe