I drew a step nearer, listlessly.
"Pst! Pst!" she whispered.

Her wrinkled old face, which was like a Normandy apple long kept, was soft with pity as she looked at Croisette.

"Pst!" "Well!" I said, mechanically.
"Is he taken ?" she muttered.
"Who taken ?" I asked stupidly.
She nodded towards the forsaken house, and answered, "The young lord who lodged there?
Ah! sirs," she continued, "he looked gay and handsome, if you'll believe me, as he came from the king's court yester even! As bonny a sight in his satin coat, and his ribbons, as my eyes ever saw! And to think that they should be hunting him like a rat to-day!" The woman's words were few and simple.

But what a change they made in my world! How my heart awoke from its stupor, and leapt up with a new joy and a new-born hope! "Did he get away ?" I cried eagerly.

"Did he escape, mother, then ?" "Ay, that he did!" she replied quickly.