day how these old country noblemen were respected, poor as they were."

Here my mother paused for a little, and then went on with the story,
which I will tell in her own words.


[Footnote 1: I may perhaps relate all these anecdotes at a future
time.]




THE FLAX-CRUSHER.

PART III.


"Do you remember the little village of Trédarzec, the steeple of which
was visible from the turret of our house? About half a mile from the
village, which consisted of little more than the church, the priest's
house, and the mayor's office, stood the manor of Kermelle, which
was, like so many others, a well-kept farmhouse, of very antiquated
appearance, surrounded by a lofty wall, and grey with age. There was
a large arched doorway, surmounted by a V-shaped shelter roofed with
tiles, and at the side of this a smaller door for everyday use. At the
further end of the courtyard stood the house with its pointed roof and
its gables covered with ivy. The dovecote, a turret, and two or three
well-constructed windows not unlike those of a church, proved that
this was the residence of a noble, one of those old houses which were
inhabited, previous to the Revolution, by a class of men whose habits