tches and bandages, still had a
pleasant smile with lip and eye to thank his stepfather for his cheery
wishes of 'a merry Christmas, at least one better in health.'

'I did not bring the little wenches, Berenger, lest they should weary
you,' said his mother.

Berenger looked alarmed, and said with the indistinctness with which he
always spoke, 'Have they caught it? Are they marked?'

'No, no, not like you, may boy,' said Sir Marmaduke, sufficiently aware
of Berenger's belief to be glad to keep it up, and yet obliged to walk
to the window to hide his diversion at the notion of his little girls
catching the contagion of sword-gashes and bullet-wounds. Dame Annora
prattled on, 'But they have sent you their Christmas gifts by me. Poor
children, they have long been busied with them, and I fancy Lucy did
half herself. See, this kerchief is hemmed by little Dolly, and here
are a pair of bands and cuffs to match, that Nanny and Bessy have been
broidering with their choicest stitchery.'

Berenger smile, took, expressed admiration by gesture, and then said in
a dreamy, uncertain manner, 'Methought I had some gifts for them;' then
looking round the room, his eye fell on a small brass-bound casket which
had travelled with him to hold his valuables; he pointed to it with a
pleased look, as Sir Marmaduke lifted it and placed it on a chair by his
side. The key, a small ornamental brass one, was in his purse, not far
off, and Lady Thistlewood was full of exceeding satisfaction at the
unpacking not only of foreign gifts, but, as she hoped, of the pearls;
Cecily meantime stole quietly in, to watch that her patient was not
over-wearied.

He was resuming the use of his right arm, though it was still weak and
stiff, and he evidently had an instinct against letting any one deal
with that box but himself; he tried himself to unlock it, and though
forced to leave this to Sir Marmaduke, still leant over it when opened,
as if to prevent his mother's curious glances from penetrating its
recesses, and allowed no hands near it but his own. He first brought out
a pretty feather fan, saying as he held it to his mother, 'For Nan, I
promised it. It was bought at the Halles,' he added, more dreamily.

Then again he dived, and brought out a wax medallion of Our Lady guarded
by angels, and made the sign that always brought Cecily to him. He
held it up to her with a puzzled smile, saying, 'They thought me a mere
Papist for buying it--M. de Teligny, I