sprang to her eyes again, but she sent them back with an effort, and descended the wide old staircase in an uncomfortable, almost an irritable, frame of mind, for which she could give no reason even to herself.
Strange to say, George was waiting for her in the hall. He had returned wet from hunting, and was now dressed and ready for dinner a few minutes before the usual time. Florian had not yet made his appearance.
"What has become of our priest?" called out the baronet, good-humouredly, as his wife descended the stairs. "I thought, Cerise, he was tied to your apron-strings, and would never be absent at this hour of the day. I wish he may not have met with some disaster," he added more gravely; "there are plenty of hawks even in this out-of-the-way place, to whom Florian's capture, dead or alive, would be worth a purse of gold!"
It was impossible to help it, coming thus immediately on her mother's letter, and although she was fiercely angry with herself for the weakness, Cerise blushed down to the very tips of her fingers. George could not but remark her confusion, and observed, at the same time, that her eyelids were red from recent tears. He looked surprised, but his voice was kindly and reassuring as usual.
"Good heavens, my darling! What has happened?" he asked, putting his arm round her waist. "You have had bad news, or you are ill, or something is amiss!"
She was as pale now as she had been crimson a moment before. How could she explain to him the cause of her confusion? How could she hope to make a man understand her feelings? Her first impulse was to produce her mother's letter, but the remarks in it about their guest prevented her following so wise a course, and yet if she ignored it altogether would not this be the first secret from her husband? No wonder she turned pale. It seemed as if her mother's warning were required already.
In such a dilemma she floundered, of course, deeper and deeper. By way of changing the subject, she caught at her husband's suggestion, and exclaimed with her pale face and tearful eyes—
"Capture! Monsieur de St. Croix captured! Heavens, George, we cannot go to dinner unconcerned if our guest is
