license
of the Bishop of Winchester."

"Precisely so, precisely so," said the little grey figure--the Chevalier
Orvillier du Champsavoys de Beaumanoir. Tears ran down his cheeks as he
turned towards Guida, but he was smiling too.

Guida's eyes were upon the Bailly. "And the child?" she cried with a
broken voice--"the child?"

"The child goes with its mother," answered the Bailly firmly.

DURING ONE YEAR LATER

CHAPTER XL

The day that saw Guida's restitution in the Cohue Royale brought but
further trouble to Ranulph Delagarde. The Chevalier had shown him the
lost register of St. Michael's, and with a heart less heavy, he left
the island once more. Intending to join Detricand in the Vendee, he
had scarcely landed at St. Malo when he was seized by a press-gang and
carried aboard a French frigate commissioned to ravage the coasts of
British America. He had stubbornly resisted the press, but had been
knocked on the head, and there was an end on it.

In vain he protested that he was an Englishman. They laughed at him. His
French was perfect, his accent Norman, his was a Norman face--evidence
enough. If he was not a citizen of France he should be, and he must
be. Ranulph decided that it was needless to throw away his life. It
was better to make a show of submission. So long as he had not to fight
British ships, he could afford to wait. Time enough then for him to take
action. When the chance came he would escape this bondage; meanwhile
remembering his four years' service with the artillery at Elizabeth
Castle, he asked to be made a gunner, and his request was granted.

The Victoire sailed the seas battle-hungry, and presently appeased her
appetite among Dutch and Danish privateers. Such excellent work did
Ranulph against the Dutchmen, that Richambeau, the captain, gave him
a gun for himself, and after they had fought the Danes made him a
master-gunner. Of the largest gun on the Victoire Ranulph grew so fond
that at last he called her ma couzaine.

Days and weeks passed, until one morning came the cry of "Land!
Land!" and once again Ranulph saw British soil--the tall cliffs of the
peninsula of Gaspe. Gaspe--that was the ultima Thule to which Mattingley
and Carterette had gone.

Presently, as the Victoire came nearer to the coast, he could see a bay
and a great rock in the distance, and, as they bore in now, the rock
seemed to stretch out like a vast wall into the gulf. As he stood
watching and leaning