'And these died for the Christian faith. Do you know mamma said it
comforted her to pray there; for she was sure that whatever happened,
the good God can make us strong, as He made the young girl who sat in
the red-hot chair. We saw her picture, and it was dreadful. Do read
about her, Monsieur Arture.'

They read, and Arthur had candour enough to perceive that this was the
simple primitive narrative of the death of martyrs struggling for
Christian truth, long ere the days of superstition and division.
Estelle's face lighted with enthusiasm.

'Is it not noble to be a martyr?' she asked.

'Oh!' cried Ulysse; 'to sit in a red-hot chair! It would be worse than
to be thrown off a rock! But there are no martyrs in these days,
sister?' he added, pressing up to Arthur as if for protection.

'There are those who die for the right,' said Arthur, thinking of Lord
Derwentwater, who in Jacobite eyes was a martyr.

'And the good God makes them strong,' said Estelle, in a low voice.
'Mamma told me no one could tell how soon we might be tried, and that I
was to pray that He would make us as brave as St. Blandina! What do
you think could harm us, Monsieur, when we are going to my dear papa?'

It was Lanty who answered, from behind the Abbe, on whose angling
endeavours he was attending. 'Arrah then, nothing at all,
Mademoiselle. Nothing in the four corners of the world shall hurt one
curl of your blessed little head, while Lanty Callaghan is to the