"not
proven" has been the conclusion reached by some writers, while despite
Randolph's failure to deny the charges at once, as he did later, it is
possible that Fauchet misunderstood him or lied, although why he should
have done so is difficult to comprehend.

The despatch, as we have seen, affected more persons than the
unfortunate Secretary. Dr. Chovet left the city in haste when he heard
of Schmidt's return, and Aunt Gainor lamented as among the not minor
consequences the demise of her two gods and the blue china mandarin. She
was in some degree comforted by the difficult business of Margaret's
marriage outfit, for Schmidt, overjoyed at the complete justification of
De Courval, insisted that there must be no delay, since he himself was
obliged to return to Germany in October.

Mrs. Swanwick would as usual accept no money help, and the preparations
should be simple, she said, nor was it a day of vulgar extravagance in
bridal presents. Margaret, willing enough to delay, and happy in the
present, was slowly making her way to what heart there was in the
Huguenot dame. Margaret at her joyous best was hard to resist, and now
made love to the vicomtesse, and, ingenuously ready to serve, wooed her
well and wisely in the interest of peace.

What Madame de Courval most liked about Margaret was a voice as low and
as melodious in its changes as her own, so that, as Schmidt said, "It is
music, and what it says is of the lesser moment." Thus one day at
evening as they sat on the porch, Margaret murmured in the ear of the
dark lady: "I am to be married in a few days; wilt not thou make me a
little wedding gift?"

"My dear Margaret," cried Rene, laughing, "the jewels all went in
England, and except a son of small value, what can my mother give you?"

"But, him I have already," cried Margaret. "What I want, madame has--oh,
and to spare."

"Well, and what is it I am to give?" said madame, coldly.

"A little love," she whispered.

"Ah, do you say such things to Rene?"

"No, never. It is he who says them to me. Oh, I am waiting. A lapful I
want of thee," and she held up her skirts to receive the gift.

"How saucy thou art," said Mrs. Swanwick.

"It is no affair of thine, Friend Swanwick," cried the Pearl. "I wait,
Madame."

"I must borrow of my son," said the vicomtesse. "It shall be ready at
thy wedding. Thou wilt have to wait."

"Ah," said Rene, "we can wait. Come, let us gather some peaches,
Margaret," and as they we