"Then, at last, I did believe. Then, at last, I renounced you and your love. I denied to my own heart that I had ever known a man named Bertie Elphinston, that I had ever been that man's promised wife. I tore you from my heart for ever. It was hard, yet I did it. Time passed, no intelligence came of you or Madeleine Baufremont. I even heard that the Duc de Baufremont had petitioned the king that, if you again entered French territory, you should be punished for abducting his daughter. Yet, as the days went on, I allowed Simeon Larpent to approach me no nearer on the subject. So he and my father concocted a fresh scheme by which I was at last led to consent to become his wife. We were, as you know, poor, horribly poor; the _Cours d'Escrime_ hardly provided for our needs. Often, indeed, I had wondered how we managed to subsist so well on what seemed to me to be nothing. My father talked vaguely of an allowance to him, in common with other refugees from England, from the French king or from the Chevalier St. George, or the Scotch Fund. Now--for at this period the old Lord Fordingbridge died--he said we had been subsisting for some time on money lent, or we could, if we chose, consider it given to us, by the present lord. He would never, my father said, demand repayment; indeed, such was his lordship's respect for him and his admiration for me, that he would cheerfully continue his allowance, or, since he was now very well-to-do, increase it. So I learnt that I had been dependent for the bread I ate, the dress I wore, to this man. Need I say more! You know that I became the wife of Lord Fordingbridge. "A month had not passed ere I knew the truth as to how I had been duped and deceived--as to how I had been false to you. De Roquefeuille's squadron was driven back by Sir John Norris, and Douglas Sholto returned to Paris. He told me all; that it was your kinsman and namesake of Glenbervie who had left Paris with you to espouse Madeleine Baufremont, and that you--tied under a solemn promise to in no way let his approaching marriage with her be known--had kept the secret even from me. Alas! had you given me one hint, spoken one word, how different all would have been! Yet, I do not reproach you for fidelity to your friend; I only ask that when you think of me--if you ever think at all--as not trusting you, you will recollect that your own silence made it possible for me to doubt. "One word more, and I shall not trouble you further. It is to beseech you to quit London at once, to put yourself in safety, with the seas between you and the English Government. For, even though you might lie hid from the vengeance that will fall on all followers of the prince who may be caught, I fear that private malice, aided by personal fear of you, may lead to your betrayal. Be warned, I beseech you. Farewell and forgive. "Catherine Fordingbridge." CHAPTER IV. THE SUBJECTS OF KING JAMES.