te,
Qu'au coeur j'aurai toujours ecrite.

He laughed. That would hardly do--"_au coeur ecrite_"; but then, it is
only a song.

"Well sung," said the captain, not ignorant of French. "Do you sing that
to the lady who is written in your heart?"

"Always," laughed De Courval--"always."

IX

It is well for us to follow the fortunes of some of those who were in De
Courval's mind as the _Marie_ lost sight of the steeple of Christ
Church.

Mrs. Swanwick, born in the creed and customs of the Church of England,
was by many ties of kindred allied to the Masters, Willings, Morrises,
and to that good Whig rector, the Rev. Richard Peters. She had conformed
with some doubts to the creed of John Swanwick, her dead husband, but
was of no mind to separate her daughter altogether from the gay cousins
whose ways her simpler tastes in no wise always approved.

It was also black Nanny's opinion that the girl should see the gayer
world, and she expressed herself on this matter to her mistress with the
freedom of an old servant. She could neither read nor even tell the
time, and never left the house or garden, except for church or the
funeral of some relative. Just now, a week after the vicomte had gone,
she was busy in the kitchen when Mrs. Swanwick came in.

"Were there many at thy cousin's burial?" asked the mistress.

"Yes, there was; but this goin' out don't agree with me. I ain't young
enough to enjoy it." Then she said abruptly: "Miss Margaret she's pinin'
like. She ain't no Quaker--no more than me."

Mrs. Swanwick smiled, and Nanny went on peeling potatoes.

"I don't go with Friends--I'm church people, and I likes the real
quality."

"Yes, I know, Nanny." She had heard all this many times.

"I heard the Governor askin' you--"

"Yes, yes. I think she may go, Nanny."

"She'll go, and some time she'll stay," said Nanny.

"Indeed? Well--I shall see," said the mistress.

"Potatoes ain't what they used to be, and neither is folks."

Now and then, with more doubt as Margaret grew and matured, her mother
permitted her to stay for a day at Belmont, or at Cliveden with the
Chews, but more readily with Darthea Wynne. Just now an occasional
visitor, Mr. John Penn, the Proprietary, had come with his wife to ask
the girl to dine at Landsdowne. It would be a quiet party. She could
come with Mr. Schmidt, who, like Nanny, seeing the girl of late somewhat
less gay than usual and indisposed to the young Quaker kinsfolk