think it was.'

They had heard how the good and beloved Teligny had been shot down on
the roof of his father-in-law's house, by rabid assassins, strangers
to his person, when all who knew him had spared him, from love to his
gentle nature; and the name gave a strange thrill.

He muttered something about 'Pedlar,--Montpipeau,'--and still continued.
Then came a small silver casket, diffusing an odour of attar of
roses--he leant back in his chair--and his mother would have taken it
from him, supposing him overcome by the scent, but he held it fast and
shook his head, saying, 'For Lucy,--but she must give it herself. She
gave up any gift for herself for it--she said we needed no love-tokens.'
And he closed his eyes. Dame Annora plunged into the unpacking, and
brought out a pocket-mirror with enamelled cupids in the corner,
addressed to herself; and then came upon Berenger's own.

Again came a fringed pair of gloves among the personal jewellery such
as gentlemen were wont to wear, the rings, clasps and brooches he had
carried from home. Dame Annora's impatience at last found vent in the
exclamation, 'The pearls, son; I do not see the chaplet of pearls.'

'She had them, 'answered Berenger, in a matter-of-fact tone, 'to wear at
the masque.'

'She----'

Sir Marmaduke's great hand choked, as it were, the query on his wife's
lips, unseen by her son, who, as if the words had touched some chord,
was more eagerly seeking in the box, and presently drew out a bow of
carnation ribbon with a small piece of paper full of pin-holes attached
to it. At once he carried it to his lips, kissed it fervently, and then,
sinking back in his chair, seemed to be trying to gather up the memory
that had prompted the impulse, knitted his brows together, and then
suddenly exclaimed, 'Where is she?'

His mother tried the last antecedent. 'Lucy? She shall come and thank
you to-morrow.'

He shook his head with a vehement negative, beckoned Cecily impatiently,
and said earnestly, 'Is it the contagion? Is she sick? I will go to
her.'

Cecily and Sir Marmaduke both replied with a 'No, no!' and were
thankful, though in much suspense at the momentary pause, while again
he leant back on the cushions, looked steadily at the pin-holes, that
formed themselves into the word 'Sweet heart,' then suddenly began to
draw up the loose sleeve of his wrapping-gown and unbutton the wristband
of his right sleeve. His mother tried to help him, asking if he had hurt