of her husband, unwilling to have the
charge and the portioning of the two penniless maidens imposed upon him.
And what might not that fate be, betrayed into the hands of one who had
so deadly a blood-feud with their parents! For Hall was the son of one
of the men whose daggers had slain James I., and whose crime had been
visited with such vindictive cruelty by Queen Joanna. The man's eyes
had often scowled at her, as if he longed for vengeance--and thus had it
been granted him.

Margaret, with understanding to appreciate Louis's extraordinary
ability, had idolised him throughout in spite of his constant coldness
and the satire with which he treated all her higher tastes and
aspirations, continually throwing her in and back upon herself, and
blighting her instincts wherever they turned. She had accepted all this
as his superiority to her folly, and though the thwarted and unfostered
inclinations in her strong unstained nature had occasioned those
aberrations and distorted impulses which brought blame on her, she had
accepted everything hitherto as her own fault, and believed in, and
adored the image she had made of him throughout. Now it was as if her
idol had turned suddenly into a viper in her bosom, not only stinging
her by implied acquiescence in the slanders upon her discretion, if not
upon her fair fame, but actually having betrayed her innocent sisters by
means of the deadly enemy of their family--to what fate she knew not.

To act became an immediate need to the unhappy Dauphiness at once, as
the only vent to her own misery, and because she must without loss of
time do something for the succour of her young sisters, or ascertain
their fate.

She did not spend a moment's thought on the censure any imprudent
measure of her own might bring on her, but hastily summoning the only
tirewoman within reach, she exchanged her blue and gold embroidered robe
for a dark serge which she wore on days of penance, with a mantle and
hood of the same, and, to Linette's horror and dismay, bade her attend
her on foot to the Hotel de Terreforte, in Chalons.

Linette was in no position to remonstrate, but could only follow, as the
lady, wrapped in her cloak, descended the steps, and crossed the empty
hall. The porter let her pass unquestioned, but there were a few guards
at the great gateway, and one shouted, 'Whither away, pretty Linette?'

Margaret raised her hood and looked full at him, and he fell back. He
knew her, and knew