Lucette glanced across at her and her manner changed.
"You are thinking again, Gabrielle. You are not sad?"
"Yes, I was thinking. I ought not to be sad, to-day of all days; and yet" The rest of the sentence was an unmistakable sigh, deep and sincere.
"He may prove a gallant cavalier, Gabrielle, your Gerard; as gallant maybe as your hero of the market place. Don't look like that, dear."
"I am afraid, Lucette, horribly afraid. You cannot tell how it is with me. I am perhaps overwrought by this terrible scene in the market place, and—oh, I know not what I feel;" and with a shudder she covered her face with her hands.
"It will all come right, dear," whispered Lucette gently, after a pause; but the words seemed to jar upon Gabrielle, who lowered her hands, and with a look of irritation replied almost petulantly.
"You judge from your own little outlook. You tease Denys and force a sham quarrel, knowing he will make it up and all will come right, as you say. But how would it be with you if you were in my place, given to a man you had not seen since you were a child; betrothed to one you know nothing about, and who may turn out to be—oh, what am I saying?"
"I should hate him before he came to claim me, Gabrielle," said Lucette vigourously, tearing at the flax she held in her fingers. "Claim me!" she added, incensed by her own word. "I would make him feel that the claiming was no easy task. Oh, I should hate him! But you need not wed him. You are the mistress of Malincourt."
"You do not understand, Lucette." The girl looked up in genuine surprise at the change in Gabrielle's tone, suddenly calm, proud and cold. "It is my duty to my
