arce venture to take her to
England, ere I know what reception would await her. Should her husband's
family disown or cast her off, I could take better care of her here than
in a strange land.'

'You are right, Maitre Gardon,' said the Duchess; 'the risk might be
great. I would see this lady. She must be a rare creature. Bear her my
greetings, my friend, and pray her to do me the honour of a visit this
afternoon. Tell her I would come myself to her, but that I understand
she does not wish to attract notice.'

'Madame,' said Isaac, rising, and with a strange manner, between a smile
and a tear of earnestness, 'allow me to bespeak your goodness for my
daughter. The poor little thing is scarcely more than a child. She is
but eighteen even now, and it is not always easy to tell whether she
will be an angel of noble goodness, or, pardon me, a half-petulant
child.'

'I understand:' Madame de Quinet laughed, and she probably did
understand more than reluctant, anxious Isaac Gardon thought she did, of
his winning, gracious, yet haughty, head-strong little charge, so humbly
helpful one moment, so self-asserting and childish the next, so dear to
him, yet so unlike anything in his experience.

'Child,' he said, as he found her in the sunny window engaged in
plaiting the deep folds of his starched ruffs, 'you have something to
forgive me.'

'Fathers do not ask their children's pardon,' said Eustacie, brightly,
but then, with sudden dismay, 'Ah! you have not said I should go to the
Moustier again.'

'No, daughter; but Madame de Quinet entreats--these are her words--that
you will do her the honour of calling on her. She would come to you, but
that she fears to attract notice to us.'

'You have told her!' exclaimed Eustacie.

'I was compelled, but I had already thought of asking your consent, and
she is a true and generous lady, with whom your secret will be safe, and
who can hush the idle tongues here. So, daughter,' he added restlessly,
'don your hood; that ruff will serve for another day.'

'Another day, when the morrow is Sunday, and my father's ruff is to put
to shame all the other pastors',' said Eustacie, her quick fingers still
moving. 'No, he shall not go ill-starched for any Duchess in France. Now
am I in any haste to be lectured by Madame de Quinet, as they say she
lectured the Dame de Soubrera the other day.'

'My child, you will go; much depends on it.'

'Oh yes, I am going; only if Madame de Quinet knows who