"Pardie few of the fine dames of France can say that!" exclaimed the horseman. "But the truth is, my poor young lady, my home is not very near. But I would fain help you if I could. Where are your father and mother? Better go home to them, and if you have offended them, try to soften them with tears. They must have hard hearts if they resist." "They are in the grave," answered the unhappy girl. "And what is your name, poor thing?" inquired her companion. She paused and hesitated; but the next moment she said, "Why should I conceal the truth? my name is Helen de la Tremblade." "What!" exclaimed the farmer, "the niece of the good priest at the Château de Marzay?" "The same," answered Helen with a mournful shake of the head. "Then you have been residing with the old Marchioness de Chazeul," rejoined the other, adding, "at least the servants told me so." "Till this morning," replied Helen with a sigh; "but I am now a houseless outcast." The horseman dismounted from his beast, and took her kindly by the hand; "Alas, poor child," he said, "you have been, I fear, under a hard ruler. I know something of this woman; if not personally, at least by hearsay; and I can easily believe that she has been harsh and unkind." "But I was first in fault," answered Helen, interrupting him frankly, "I deserved reproach, perhaps punishment, but oh, not so terrible as this." "Why, what was the cause?" asked the farmer. "Nay, then," he proceeded, "as your cheek glows, I will ask no further questions. I seek not to distress you, young lady, but to serve you; and if I can, I will place you in security. You cannot--you must not remain here. Heaven only knows what might happen to you. But how I am to get you hence I cannot tell. I have not time to go back with you to Marzay, and--" "Not for existence," cried Helen de la Tremblade, "no, not, for all that earth can give, would I set my foot within those walls." "Ay, I forgot," rejoined the farmer, "she must be there by this time." "Oh not for that--not for that alone," exclaimed the poor girl with a shudder, "you do not know--you cannot tell all." "Well," replied her companion, "perhaps you may think differently by and by. But in the mean time, how am I to get you hence? I am going to the village of St. André, some eight leagues distance, and have no conveyance but the horse I ride. Stay," he continued, "I will go on a short way, and see if I can find a cottage or farm-house where we can hire horse or cart." "Oh do not leave me," cried Helen, "you are the first who has spoken kindly to me; and perhaps--perhaps if you go you may not return." "I will, upon my honour," replied the farmer; and setting spurs to his horse, he was away over the opposite hill in a few moments.