force itself back upon her again and again and yet again, despite her most earnest efforts.
In the morning when her uncle told her that he had heard of the stranger's presence at Beaucamp and had despatched Denys in search of him, she was conscious that her heart fluttered almost wildly for the moment, and she had been compelled to turn her face away lest some of the emotion might make itself evident there.
"He must not think us thankless, uncle," she had replied, calmly enough in tone; but in her heart she was driven to hope he would not be found and that never would she have to undergo the ordeal of meeting him face to face. What might then happen she did not dare to think.
But all this emotion she had hidden from even the sharp eyes of her companion, so that, although for her own secret reasons she was as eagerly impatient as Lucette herself for Denys' return, her secret was locked away under an outward demeanour as calm and self-possessed as usual.
Twice she sent to inquire if he had come; pretending, even while despising herself for the pretence, that it was for Lucette's sake; and when noon came and passed and he had not returned, she masked her own disappointment under a concern for Lucette.
But he did return at length, despite the Duke's plans against him. Unconscious of the danger in which he rode he had by a mere chance change of direction evaded the two men sent to waylay him, and they had only ascertained the fact in time to admit of their following him to Malincourt in hot haste and mortal fear of the Governor's anger.
They had wandered into a distant part of the grounds when Gabrielle caught sight of him pricking fast toward the maison, and she was at great pains to conceal the start she gave on seeing he was alone. She told herself
