ace of the
once buoyant young adventurer. "God help De Roberval!" he once more
thought, "and God speed the arm that strikes the blow!"

"But come below," said Charles, after a few moments' oppressive silence,
"and see Mdlle. de Roberval for yourself. I wish no one but you to know
for the present that she has returned to France. I will leave you with
her, and attend to these Malouins, who have, no doubt, come to see what
return I can give them for the sous they invested in the _Marie_."

Cartier could not restrain a start of dismay when he was ushered into
the little cabin, where Marguerite sat awaiting him. He had last seen
her, little more than four years before, a beautiful girl, in the full,
radiant charm of budding womanhood. She stood before him now, worn and
aged, with white hair and the face of a woman of fifty instead of a girl
of twenty-six. But her figure was as upright as ever, and her carriage
as queenly; her dark eyes had lost none of their fire--though their
depths held the secret of her life's tragedy--and her voice, when she
spoke, had gained in fulness and richness what it had lost in girlish
brightness and gaiety.

Cartier controlled himself, and allowed no sign of pity or sympathy to
appear in his face or voice.

"Mademoiselle," he said simply, "I welcome you back to France. If you
will deign to accept my hospitality, my house and all that I have are at
your service for as long as you will make use of them."

Marguerite thanked him with her old, quiet dignity. She never lost her
self-control through all the trying scenes of her return to the land she
had left under such different auspices--so little dreaming what her
home-coming would be. When Charles had succeeded in getting rid of the
merchants who crowded his decks, he conducted her on shore. Cartier,
moved with fatherly compassion towards the young girl whose sufferings
seemed more like legend than reality, insisted that she should stay with
him and his family till a meeting with De Roberval could be arranged.

A messenger was despatched to Picardy, but returned with the information
that De Roberval had long been absent from his castle. He was busy in
the wars; but as Paris would doubtless be his head-quarters, Charles and
Marguerite determined to seek him there.

All this time no word of love had crossed La Pommeraye's lips. He
yearned with unutterable longing to claim as his own the right to
cherish and protect Marguerite for the rest of