if he had been shot,
Berenger cried aloud, 'Mericour! the Abbe!'

'Ah, Monsieur, if you know me,' cried the young man, raising his head,
'free me from this shame--aid me in my mission!'

'Loose him, fellows,' shouted Berenger; 'Philip, a knife--Lucy, those
scissors.'

'Tis my duty, my Lord,' said Spinks, gruffly. 'All vagabonds to be
apprehended and flogged at the cart's-tail, by her Grace's special
commands. How is it to be answered to his Honour, Sir Marmaduke?'

'Oaf!' cried Philip, 'you durst not have used such violence had my
father been at home! Don't you see my brother knows him?'

With hands trembling with haste, Berenger had seized the scissors
that, house-wife like, hung at Lucy's waist, and was cutting the
rope, exclaiming in French, 'Pardon, pardon, friend, for so shameful a
reception.'

'Sir,' was the reply, without a sign of recognition, 'if, indeed, you
know my name, I entreat you to direct me to the chateau of Le Sieur
Tistefote, whose lady was once Baronne de Ribaumont.'

'My mother! Ah, my friend, my friend! what would you?' he cried in a
tone of tremulous hope and fear, laying one hand on Mericour's shoulder,
and about to embrace him.

Mericour retreated from him; but the high-spirited young man crossed his
arms on his breast, and gazing at the group with indignant scorn, made
answer, 'My message is from her who deems herself a widow, to the
mother of the husband whom she little imagines to be not only alive, but
consoled.'

'Faithful! Faithful!' burst out Berenger, with a wild, exultant,
strangely-ringing shout. 'Woe, woe to those who would have had me doubt
her! Philip--Lucy--hear! Her truth is clear to all the world!' Then
changing back again to French, 'Ten thousand blessings on you, Mericour!
You have seen her! Where--how?'

Mericour still spoke with frigid politeness. 'I had the honour to part
with Madame la Baronne de Ribaumont in the town of La Sablerie, among
humble, Huguenot guardians, to whom she had fled, to save her infant's
life--when no aid came.'

He was obliged to break off, for Berenger, stunned by the sudden rush
of emotion, reeled as he stood, and would have fallen but for the prompt
support of Lucy, who was near enough to guide him back to rest upon the
bench, saying resentfully in French as she did so, 'My brother is still
very ill. I pray you, sir, have a care.'

She had not half understood the rapid words of the two young men, Philip
comprehended them far less,