did not comply to the uttermost it should be
the worse for him. Their ship, it appeared, had been forced to put into
the harbour, about two miles off, and Maitre Gardon and the young Abbe
decided on walking thither to see it, and to have an interview with the
captain, so as to secure a passage for Mericour at least. Indeed Maitre
Gardon had, in consultation with Eustacie, resolved, if he found things
suitable, to arrange for their all going together. She would be far
safer out of France; and, although the Abbe alone could not have
escorted her, yet Maitre Gardon would gladly have secured for her
the additional protection of a young, strong, and spirited man; and
Eustacie, who was no scribe, was absolutely relieved to have the voyage
set before her as an alternative to the dreadful operation of composing
a letter to the _belle-mere_, whom she had not seen since she had been
seven years old, and of whose present English name she had the most
indistinct ideas.

However, the first sight of the ship overthrew all such ideas. It was a
wretched single-decked vessel, carrying far more sail than experienced
nautical eyes would have deemed safe, and with no accommodation fit
for a woman and child, even had the aspect of captain or crew been more
satisfactory--for the ruffianly appearance and language of the former
fully rivaled that of his sailors. It would have been mere madness to
think of trusting the lady in such hands; and, without a word to each
other, Gardon and Mericour resolved to give no hint even that she and
her jewels were in La Sablerie. Mericour, however, made his bargain with
the captain, who understood to transport him as far as Guernsey, whence
he might easily make his way to Dorsetshire, where M. Gardon knew that
Berenger's English home had been.

So Eustacie, with no small trouble and consideration, indited her
letter--telling of her escape, the birth of her daughter, the dangers
that threatened her child--and begging that its grand-mother would give
it a safe home in England, and love it for the sake of its father. An
answer would find her at the Widow Noemi Laurent's, Rue des Trois
Fees, La Sablerie. She could not bring herself to speak of the name of
Eserance Gardon which had been saddled upon her; and even M. de Mericour
remained in ignorance of her bearing this disguise. She recommended him
to the kindness of her mother-in-law; and M. Gardon added another letter
to the lady, on behalf of the charge to w