infoy, once away from the
house, that caution and silence might be necessary; he talked out of the
relief and gladness of his heart, while affectionately pressing Helene's
hand in his arm.

"Make my compliments to your uncle, Angelot. Ask him to forgive me for
taking his nephew and sending him back a niece. He will see that your
duty lies in France now. As to that dear father of yours, I shall soon
make my peace with him."

"Papa!" Helene spoke for the first time, and Angelot forgot the rustling
in the bushes. "Cannot we--may not we go to La Mariniere?"

"Not at first," said Herve, more gravely. "Ange must make sure of a
welcome there--and he knows his uncle Joseph."

"There is another reason," Angelot said eagerly. "My uncle is expecting
me. He has made arrangements for me--this very night--I must come to an
understanding with him. You know--" he said, looking at Helene, "my
uncle has risked much for me. To-morrow--or to-day, is it? my mother
shall welcome you. You are not displeased?"

"No, no. Take me anywhere--I will go anywhere you like," Helene answered
a little faintly; the thought of Angelot's mother, slightly as she knew
her, had been sweet and comforting.

For she was a timid girl, and these wild doings frightened her, though
she loved Angelot and trusted him with all her heart.

Her father laughed.

"Certainly, my poor girl," he said, "no daughter of Lancilly was ever
before married and smuggled away in such a fashion."

"I am satisfied, papa," said Helene; and they passed on through the wood
and came to the crossing of the roads, where he kissed her, and once
more laid her hand in Angelot's.

"Take care of your wife," he said to him; and he stood a minute in the
road, watching the two young figures, very close together, as they
turned into a hollow lane that wound up into the fields and so on
towards Les Chouettes.

The Cure and Martin Joubard started away from the chateau by a path that
crossed the park and reached the bridge without going through the
village. They were not yet clear of the park, walking slowly, when a man
came out of the shadows of the wood to the north, and crossed their
path, going towards the south side of the chateau. He passed at some
yards' distance in the confusing darkness of the low ground, where mists
were rising; but Martin Joubard had the eyes of a hawk, and knew him.

"Pardon, Monsieur le Cure!" he said, dropped the bundle he was carrying
at the Cure's feet, and