The child flung her arms round his neck and kissed him. It was her only
answer, but that mute reply was a vow.

"Thou wilt stay here till England's troubles are over, Angela, and that
base herd yonder have been trampled down. Thou wilt be happy here, and wilt
mind thy book, and be obedient to those good ladies who will teach thee;
and some day, when our country is at peace, I will come back to fetch
thee."

"Soon," murmured the child, "soon, father?"

"God grant it may be soon, my beloved! It is hard for father and children
to be scattered, as we are scattered; thy sister Hyacinth in Paris, and
thou in Flanders, and I in England. Yet it must needs be so for a while!"

"Why should not Hyacinth come to us and be reared with Angela?" asked the
reverend mother.

"Nay, madam, Hyacinth is well cared for with your sister, Madame de
Montrond. She is as dear to her maternal grandmother as this little one
here was to my good mother, whose death last year left us a house of
mourning. Hyacinth will doubtless inherit a considerable portion of Madame
de Montrond's wealth, which is not insignificant. She is being brought up
in the precincts of the Court."

"A worldly and a dangerous school for one so young," said the nun, with a
sigh. "I have heard my father talk of what life was like at the Louvre when
the Bearnais reigned there in the flower of his manhood, newly master of
Paris, flushed with hard-won victory, and but lately reconciled to the