The glamour of an entirely new experience had crept over the cruel, scheming man of many crimes as he sat there waiting for the twilight to fall, the glamour which hangs around the days of early childhood and innocence, and seems to whisper of things holy and beautiful. It thrilled him with a new sense of what life might be, and made him shrink back appalled from what his had already been. It was shame, and yet not without its sweetness, to see himself mirrored in this peasant girl’s eyes as a noble knight whose goodness and untarnished honour had been already the theme of her girlish thoughts, and he almost shivered as he pictured how the light of reverence and admiration would fade from her sweet face did she know the truth. "Ah, monsieur," murmured Gabrielle as she paused in her busy work to look across to where he was sitting, "my heart aches to think of the cruelty of those who seek to do you harm, nor can I conceive how one so good and noble as the Sieur de Mereac could be so deceived by lying tongues." De Coray shrugged his shoulders. "Nay, mademoiselle," he said carelessly, "doubtless in time the noble Sieur will find out his error and regret his hasty judgment; for the rest, if I can but ride in safety to my own château at Pontivy, I shall not forget the succour which you and your brother have bestowed." "Nay," cried the girl softly, "monsieur must not speak of reward for what it has been our joy to give; monsieur has already saved us from want, for, see, I was sick—I could do but little spinning—and my brother had but small money to bestow on me, until monsieur, in the generosity of his heart, gave him much silver, for which may our Lady and all the saints for ever bless you, monsieur, and deliver you from the hands of cruel men." "Nay," said de Coray gallantly, "methinks, fair maid, one of the sweetest saints hath already undertaken my deliverance." She looked at him innocently, not comprehending the compliment he intended to convey, seeing that her thoughts were not of herself, but for him.