left them poor, untilled, in a wretched condition.
The peasants were starving, the ramparts of the castle were tumbling
down, and robber bands were plundering what remained to her. A life of
action was what she needed: her resolve was soon taken, and in less than
a month she was on her way northward, taking with her a companion of her
own rank who had consented to share her solitude.

The journey was a weary one. Repeatedly she would have turned back, but
her determined will urged her on. She was the last De Roberval; the
noble name was a sacred trust to her, and she would keep it noble to the
end. When she reached her castle, the peasants who remembered her, and
had thought her dead, flocked about her, weeping and laughing, kissing
her horse and her garments, until, touched to the heart, she broke down
and mingled her tears with theirs.

And now her true life began. At first it was hard. The old memories came
crowding back upon her. Her uncle's face seemed to stare at her from the
deserted halls; and when she entered the room where she and Marie had
nursed and tended Claude through his illness, such an agony of
remembrance rushed over her that it seemed as if at last her mind must
be unhinged. She sought refuge in occupation; late and early she worked
as no De Roberval had ever worked before, and her retainers called down
blessings on her head. But when the toil of the day was over, and she
sought her lonely pillow, she heard all night the booming of the waves
on the rock-bound shore, and saw the faces of her dead staring at her
out of the darkness.

Thus the days of her desolate widowhood dragged themselves by. Her youth
was gone, and the grey hairs which had startled Cartier had now many
companions. But they seemed only to add beauty and character to her
sweet, sad face. She gave herself up to unselfish devotion to others and
her duty; and as if the storms of her life had buffeted themselves into
exhaustion in her youth, the rest of her days seemed destined to pass in
peace and tranquillity--if not in happiness.

She heard at intervals from La Pommeraye. Means of communication were
difficult and uncertain in those days, but he contrived to send her
occasional messages, and to assure her of his undying devotion and
readiness to serve her in any way she might need. Often her heart ached
within her when tales were brought of a famous soldier who was ever in
the brunt of the battle, who courted death, but whom death