“Oh! yes, Mademoiselle Ogilvee, the rich English lady who live in the fine house. I have heard of her. _Mais voyons!_ Mademoiselle is not Catholic, is she, for I promise to protect this lad from that red wolf?” “No, Monsieur, fear nothing. Whatever I am, I am not Catholic,” (though, perhaps, if you knew all, you would think me something much more dangerous, she added to herself.) Then they said goodbye. “I say, Miss Ogilvy,” exclaimed Godfrey, blushing, “you’ve been awfully kind to me. If it hadn’t been for you I should have missed that train and never heard the last of it. Also, I should have had to go hungry from London here, since I promised my father not to buy anything on the journey, and you know I forgot the basket.” (By the way, being addressed, it arrived three days afterwards, a mass of corruption, with six francs to pay on it, and many papers to be signed.) “Not at all, Godfrey, it was delightful to have you as a companion—and a friend,” she added meaningly. “You will come and see me, won’t you?” “Yes, of course, if I can. But meanwhile, please wait a minute,” and he pulled out his purse. “What on earth are you going to do, Godfrey? I don’t want your card.” “Card! I haven’t got a card. I am going to make you a present.” “Make me a present?” gasped Miss Ogilvy, a vague vision of half-crowns flashing before her mind. “Yes, it is rather a curious thing. It was found round the neck-bone of an old knight, whose remains they threw out of the Abbey Church when they put in the heating apparatus. I saw it there, and the sexton gave it to me when he discovered that it was only stone. You will see it has a hole in it, so he must have worn it as an ornament. The grave he lay in was that of a Crusader, for the legs are crossed upon his brass, although his name has gone. Oh! here it is,” and he produced an oblong piece of black graphite or some such stone, covered with mystical engravings. She seized the object, and examined it eagerly. “Why, it is a talisman,” she said, “Gnostic, I should think, for there is the cock upon it, and a lot that I can’t read, probably a magic formula. No doubt the old Crusader got it in the East, perhaps as a gift from some Saracen in whose family it had descended. Oh! my dear boy, I do thank you. You could not have made me a present that I should value more.” “I am so glad,” said Godfrey. “Yes, but I am ashamed to take it from you. Well, I’ll leave it back to you one day.” “Leave it back! Then you must die before me, and why should you do that? You are quite young.” “Because I shall,” she answered with a sad little smile. “I look stronger than I am. Meanwhile you will come and tell me all about this talisman.” “I have told you all I know, Miss Ogilvy.” “Do you think so? I don’t. But look, your old pasteur is calling that the diligence is coming. Good-bye. I’ll send the carriage for you next Sunday in time for _déjeuner_.”