and snatching up a sheet
of the paper he had bought, held it up to the light. She gave a cry of
amazement.

"Kathleen!" she exclaimed.

She thought of the start he gave when he looked at the water-mark; she
thought of the look on his face when he said he would buy all this paper
she had.

"Who was Kathleen?" she whispered, as though she was afraid some one
would hear. "Who was Kathleen!" she said again resentfully.

CHAPTER XVI. MADAME DAUPHIN HAS A MISSION

One day Charley began to know the gossip of the village about him from a
source less friendly than Jo Portugais. The Notary's wife, bringing her
boy to be measured for a suit of broadcloth, asked Charley if the things
Jo had told about him were true, and if it was also true that he was a
Protestant, and perhaps an Englishman. As yet, Charley had been asked no
direct questions, for the people of Chaudiere had the consideration of
their temperament; but the Notary's wife was half English, and being a
figure in the place, she took to herself more privileges than did old
Madame Dugal, the Cure's sister.

To her ill-disguised impertinence in English, as bad as her French and
as fluent, Charley listened with quiet interest. When she had finished
her voluble statement she said, with a simper and a sneer-for, after
all, a Notary's wife must keep her position--"And now, what is the truth
about it? And are you a Protestant?"

There was a sinister look in old Trudel's eyes as, cross-legged on
his table, he listened to Madame Dauphin. He remembered the time,
twenty-five years ago, when he had proposed to this babbling woman, and
had been rejected with scorn--to his subsequent satisfaction; for there
was no visible reason why any one should envy the Notary, in his house
or out of it. Already Trudel had a respect for the tongue of M'sieu'.
He had not talked much the few days he had been in the shop, but, as
the old man had said to Filion Lacasse the saddler, his brain was like
a pair of shears--it went clip, clip, clip right through everything. He
now hoped that his new apprentice, with the hand of a master-workman,
would go clip, clip through madame's inquisitiveness. He was not
disappointed, for he heard Charley say:

"One person in the witness-box at a time, Madame. Till Jo Portugais is
cross-examined and steps down, I don't see what I can do!"

"But you are a Protestant!" said the woman snappishly. This man was only
a tailor, dressed in fulled cloth, and no