'Eugenie is her name, Eugenie de Choiseul, the niece
of the old Duke.'

My reply seemed to give my cousin great satisfaction. Her large dark
eyes shone with pleasure.

'You are very attached?' she asked.

'I shall never be happy until I see her.'

'And you would not give her up?'

'God forbid!'

'Not for the Castle of Grosbois?'

'Not even for that.'

My cousin held out her hand to me with a charmingly frank impulsiveness.

'You will forgive me for my rudeness,' said she. 'I see that we are to
be allies and not enemies.'

And our hands were still clasped when her father re-entered the room.

CHAPTER VIII

COUSIN SIBYLLE

I could see in my uncle's grim face as he looked at us the keenest
satisfaction contending with surprise at this sign of our sudden
reconciliation. All trace of his recent anger seemed to have left him
as he addressed his daughter, but in spite of his altered tone I noticed
that her eyes looked defiance and distrust.

'I have some papers of importance to look over,' said he. 'For an hour
or so I shall be engaged. I can guess that Louis would like to see the
old place once again, and I am sure that he could not have a better
guide than you, Sibylle, if you will take him over it.'

She raised no objection, and for my part I was overjoyed at the
proposal, as it gave me an opportunity of learning more of this singular
cousin of mine, who had told me so much and yet seemed to know so much
more. What was the meaning of this obscure warning which she had given
me against her father, and why was she so frankly anxious to know about
my love affairs? These were the two questions which pressed for an
answer. So out we went together into the sweet coast-land air, the
sweeter for the gale of the night before, and we walked through the old
yew-lined paths, and out into the park, and so round the castle, looking
up at the gables, the grey pinnacles, the oak-mullioned windows, the
ancient wing with its crenulated walls and its meurtriere windows, the
modern with its pleasant verandah and veil of honeysuckle. And as she
showed me each fresh little detail, with a particularity which made me
understand how dear the place had become to her, she would still keep
offering her apologies for the fact that she should be the hostess and I
the visitor.

'It is not against you but against ourselves that I was bitter,' said
she, 'for are we not the cuckoos who have taken a strange nest and
dri