to write to him,
nor had she any tokens to send him, save what he had received on the
St. Barthelemy midnight; they might further his suit elsewhere. These,
Monsieur, were her words, and she laughed as she said them, so gaily
that I thought her fairer than ever. I have prevailed with her to take
me into her service as intendant of the Chateau de Nid de Merle, knowing
as she does my fidelity to the name of Ribaumont. And so, trusting
Monseigneur will pardon me for what I do solely for the good of my soul,
I will ever pray for his welfare, and remain,

'His faithful menial and valet,
'LANDRY OSBERT.'

The result was only what Lord Walwyn had anticipated, but he was
nevertheless shocked at the crushing weight of the blow. His heart was
full of compassion for the youth so cruelly treated in these his first
years of life, and as much torn in his affections as mangled in person.
After a pause, while he gathered up the sense of the letters, he laid
his hand kindly on his grandson's arm, and said, 'This is a woeful
budget, my poor son; we will do our best to help you to bear it.'

'The only way to bear it,' said Berenger, lifting up his face, 'is
for me to take horse and make for Anjou instantly. She will hold out
bravely, and I may yet save her.'

'Madness,' said his grandfather; 'you have then not read your fellow's
letter?'

'I read no letter from fellow of mine. Yonder is a vile forgery.
Narcisse's own, most likely. No one else would have so profaned her as
to put such words into her mouth! My dear faithful foster-brother--have
they murdered him?'

'Can you point to any proof that it is forged?' said Lord Walwyn, aware
that handwriting was too difficult an art, and far too crabbed,
among persons of Osbert's class, for there to be any individuality of
penmanship.

'It is all forged,' said Berenger. 'It is as false that she could frame
such a message as that poor Osbert would leave me.'

'These priests have much power over the conscience,' began Lord Walwyn;
but Berenger, interrupting his grandfather for the first time in his
life, cried, 'No priest could change her whole nature. Oh! my wife! my
darling! what may they not be inflicting on her now! Sir, I must go. She
may be saved! The deadly sin may be prevented!'

'This is mere raving, Berenger,' said Lord Walwyn, not catching half
what he said, and understanding little more than his resoluti