than Fuentellato, a place you chose for
yourself."

"I have a house of my own there--my own servants. It is perfectly
safe."

"Not now, believe me, they will come upon you there; trace you easily
and quickly, and they are capable of any violence to capture and
deprive you of your treasure." I pointed to the child on the maid's
knee.

"I shall be more at their mercy here in Aix."

"Be guided by me. I am certain of what I say. All will be well if you
will only keep out of the way now for a few hours, perhaps at most a
couple of days. If they do not find you at once they will never find
you. Only let me have a short start ahead and I'll lead them a pretty
dance, and take them further and further away. You may rely on it, and
I assure you they will never be able to find you or do you any harm."

"I wish I could believe you," she said. "If I could only believe in
you and trust you as Claire does," she murmured pathetically, still
tortured by doubt. "Why has Claire deserted me? If she were only here,
or I knew where to find her!"

I was on the point of imparting my last news, but I checked myself.
Lady Henriette had seen her last, and must be well aware of the
direction she was taking to Lyons and Marseilles. It would only
unsettle her to know that her sister was at Marseilles to-day, and
would be at Genoa to-morrow. She would be mad to join her, and it was
my most earnest wish that, for the present at least, Lady Henriette
should keep quiet in the background with her charge.

"You will soon be able to communicate with her, no doubt. Of course
you arranged that at Culoz?"

"We arranged nothing. It was all so hurried, and we had much to talk
about. She was so hard on me when I declared I could not part with my
blessed boy. We had words--"

"Ah!" I had heard enough to know that there had been a strong
difference of opinion, a sharp quarrel probably, and that Lady Claire
had not spared her sister at this fresh exhibition of ridiculous
weakness.

"May I ask, please, whether you were to believe in me or not?" I
resumed, taking up the discussion where I had left it. "We must be
moving if we are to go at all."

Her acquiescence, now tardily given, was surly and ungracious.

"I suppose I cannot help myself; I am quite at your mercy. You may be
sure I shall not easily forget this, or forgive your overbearing
treatment. I will go, but under protest."

She led the way herself and entered the carriage first, motioning t