forward and assists her.] Oh! thank you, sir.

Re-enter Alain.

Alain. Monsieur Laroque is coming down, Madame.

[Exit at back.

Mad. L. [To Marguerite.] My dear, will you stay and introduce Monsieur Manuel to your grandpapa?

Mar. Certainly, if you wish it.

Mad. L. Now, my dear Bevannes, your arm.

Bev. [Who has been talking to Marguerite.] Eh?

Mad. L. You shall accompany us—

Bev. [To Marguerite.] This is too bad.

[Gives arm to Madame Laroque.

Mar. Oh! Monsieur de Bevannes, how happy you ought to feel—arm in arm with "the mother of goodness."

Bev. I do feel happy—blessed. [Madame Aubrey takes his other arm.] Doubly blessed.

[Exeunt Bevannes, Madame Laroque and Madame Aubrey.

Mlle. H. [Aside.] So, so, my lord Marquis. Well, I will keep your secret, perhaps.

[Exit—Marguerite seats herself as they go off.

Mar. [After a pause.] Is this your first visit to Brittany, sir?

Man. It is, Mademoiselle.

Mar. It is an interesting country, I believe, to strangers.

Man. Deeply interesting; though I travelled through it so rapidly, that I had hardly time to appreciate its beauties. What I did see, however, charmed me.

Mar. Ah! an admirer of the picturesque, I perceive, like our governess. You two will get on very well together—you'll be excellent companions.

Man. Mademoiselle—

Mar. Oh, yes; she adores trees, rocks, rivers, etcetera—things that, for my own part, I don't think very interesting.

Man. [Smiling, and throwing himself carelessly into a chair.] Pray, then, may I ask what you do think interesting?

Mar. [Rising.] Excuse me, sir.

[Goes out with a slight and disdainful inclination.

Man. A timely reproof—for I was already forgetting my position. [Alain is crossing the stage.] My friend, a word with you.

Alain. Certainly, sir.

Man. Monsieur Laroque is very old, is he not?

Alain. Oh, yes sir, very old.

Man. He was a seaman formerly, I believe?

Alain. Yes sir, and a bold one too. Up in the picture gallery, there are paintings of some of his most famous battles with the English. Ah! he was a terrible man. Why, sir, if you'll believe me, when the fit is on him, he will walk for hours alone in that gallery, in a sort of dream, muttering to himself, and fancying that he is again on board his ship in the midst of fire and slaughter, and between you and I, sir, they do say—but hush! he's coming with his granddaughter.

[Music.

Enter M. Laroque, leaning on Marguerite.

Mar. This way, dear grandfather. So, so. How well and strong you are to-day.

[Alain places chairs and exits.

Laroque. Always better and stronger when you are near me, my darling, [sits down.] Thank ye, thank ye.

Mar. Let me present to you Mons. Manuel, our new steward.

Laroque, on seeing Manuel, is transfixed and gazes with a sort of terror at him.

Lar. No—no—no—it cannot be!

Mar. What is this?

Lar. But I tell you he is dead—dead—

Mar. Dearest grandfather! [To Manuel.] For heaven's sake, sir, speak to him.

Man. Really, Mademoiselle—I—I—

Mar. Speak, sir! Say something—anything—

Man. I am happy, sir, that I can devote my humble talents to your service.

Lar. But he is dead—

Man. Who?

Mar. The last steward—

[Signs to Manuel to speak on.

Man. All the more happy, sir, as I have heard of your many brilliant exploits, and had relatives who, like yourself, have often fought against the English—

Lar. The English! Aye—aye—aye—they did it—they were the cause, but they paid it all—paid dearly—dearly.

Man. [Approaching.] Permit me, sir, to—

Lar. Ah! No—no—no. He has blood upon him! See—see—see—

Mar. Grandfather, dear grandfather! Do not regard him, [To Manuel.] he is often thus—his great age—and—and—oh, sir, pray retire; join my mother, I beg of you.

Man. Certainly, Mademoiselle. [Aside.] A good beginning, truly.

[Exit.

Mar. Grandfather, dearest, what terrible thoughts are troubling you? See, it is I, Marguerite, your child.

Lar. Eh! my child! Ah, yes, true, my child, my own dear child; but where is—are we alone? Who stood there just now?

Mar. That was our new steward, Monsieur Manuel.

Lar. Manuel—Manuel—'tis very strange! I thought—

Mar. What, dear grandfather?

Lar. Thought that—that—

Mar. Oh, you thought you recognized him? He is like some one you have seen before?

Lar. Yes—yes—yes—like some one I have seen before. But I am very old, darling, and have seen so many faces in my time. Well, well, I think I shall like him. Does he play picquet?

Mar. Indeed I do not know—

Lar. I hope so, I hope so—

Enter Mad. Aubrey.

Mad. H. Ah, my dear cousin, how do you find yourself now? They told me you were ill, and almost frightened me to death.

Lar. Thank ye, cousin, thank ye. It was only a passing weakness.

Mad. A. Indeed, I rejoice to hear it, for I was fearful of some sudden—Oh, why did you not send for me? 'Tis very unkind of you to forget those who love you so.

[Weeps.

Mar. Grandpapa, there's one for you.

[Aside to him.

Lar. [To Mad. Aubrey.] Well, well it's very kind of you to be so fearful of something sudden, but you needn't—I've made my will. [Aside to Marguerite.] There's one for her!

Mad. A. Come now, take my arm, a walk upon the terrace will do you so much good. There, don't be afraid to lean on me.

Lar. You're very kind, cousin. Thank ye, thank ye. [Going.] Marguerite, my darling, ask him if he plays picquet.

Mar. I will.

Lar. Umph! do you think he does?

Mar. I have no doubt of it.

Lar. [As he goes out with Mad. Aubrey.] I hope so—I hope so—I hope so!

[Exeunt Laroque and Mad. Aubrey.

Mar. My poor grandfather; spite of his failing memory, he sees through the disinterestedness of our good cousin Aubrey. But those wild words, his terror at the appearance of this young man, what could that mean? Or had it any meaning?