e might have given him his daughter."

"Heaven forbid!" cried Anne. "But if you love Ange, do not blame him. He
was young, he was mad, the girl was beautiful--and, after all, Joseph,
you had something to do with putting that into his head. Ah, we are all
to blame! We have all been cruel, blind, selfish. You and I thought of
the King, Urbain thought of his cousins, they thought of themselves. We
left my boy to find his own way in a time like this, and your Chouan
friends were as dangerous for him as Helene de Sainfoy. Ah! and you
excuse yourself with a laugh from dancing on his grave!"

She wrung her hands, threw herself back in her chair with a passionate
sigh.

"Madame," said the Cure, suddenly;--his dim but watchful eyes had been
fixed on Joseph; "Madame, Monsieur Joseph could tell you, if he would,
what has become of Angelot. He is not dead; I doubt if he is even in
prison. Ah, monsieur, you do not dissimulate well!" as Joseph made him
an eager sign to be silent.

But it was too late, for Anne was holding his two hands, and in the
light of her eyes all his secret doings lay open.

"Why did I come!" he said to himself, in the intervals of a very
difficult explanation. "There is some magic in those walls of Lancilly,
which attracts and ruins us all. If we live through this, thousand
thunders, Herve de Sainfoy may make his own excuses to our dear little
Anne in future!"

CHAPTER XXII

THE LIGHTED WINDOWS OF LANCILLY

There was no way out of it, without telling all. Fortunately Joseph knew
that his secrets were safe with these two, whose hearts were absolutely
Royalist, though circumstances held them bound to inactivity. Presently
Anne rose and left the room.

"Thank God! that is over," Joseph said, half to himself. "I must be
going. Monsieur le Cure, I leave her to you. Do not let her be too
anxious. D'Ombre is rough, but a good fellow; he will take care of our
Angelot."

The old Cure was plunged in gloom. Tall and slight in his long black
garment, he stood under the high chimneypiece, and leaned forward
shivering, to warm his fingers at the blaze.

"Ah, monsieur!" he murmured. "Have you thought what you are doing? Can
you expect good to come out of evil? Your brother, who has done
everything for us all, how are you treating him? If madame does not see
it, I do. You are taking Ange, making him a conspirator and a Chouan. If
you save him from one danger, you plunge him into a greater, for if he
and