Let the intent of the letter he carried be what it might, M. de Fontelles, a gentleman of courage and high honour, believed his business honest. He had not been at Dover, and knew nothing of what had passed there; if he were an instrument in wicked schemes, he did not know the mind of those who employed him. He came openly to Hatchstead on an honourable mission, as he conceived, and bearing an invitation which should give great gratification to the lady to whom it was addressed. Madame did Mistress Quinton the high compliment of desiring her company, and would doubtless recompense her well for the service she asked. Fontelles saw no more and asked no more. In perfect confidence and honesty he set about his task, not imagining that he had been sent on an errand with which any man could reproach him, or with a purpose that gave any the right of questioning his actions. Nor did my cry of "_Il vient_" change this mood in him. When he collected his thoughts and recalled the incident in which those words had played a part before, he saw in them the challenge of someone who had perhaps penetrated a State secret, and was ill-affected towards the King and the King's policy; but, being unaware of any connection between Mistress Barbara and M. de Perrencourt, he did not associate the silly cry with the object of his present mission. So also, on hearing that a gentleman was at the inn (Carford had not given his name) and had visited the Manor, he was in no way disquieted, but ready enough to meet any number of gentlemen without fearing their company or their scrutiny. Gaily and courteously he presented himself to Barbara. Her mother lay still in bed, and she received him alone in the room looking out on the terrace. With a low bow and words of deference he declared his errand, and delivered to her the letter he bore from Madame, making bold to add his own hopes that Mistress Quinton would not send him back unsuccessful, but let him win the praise of a trustworthy messenger. Then he twirled his moustaches, smiled gallantly, and waited with all composure while she read the letter. Indeed he deserves some pity, for women are wont to spend much time on reasoning in such a case. When a man comes on a business which they suspect to be evil, they make no ado about holding him a party to it, and that without inquiring whether he knows the thing to which he is setting his hand. Barbara read her letter through once and a second time; then, without a word to Fontelles, aye, not so much as bidding him be seated, she called a servant and sent him to the inn to summon Carford to her. She spoke low, and the Frenchman did not hear. When they were again alone together, Barbara walked to the window, and stood there looking out. Fontelles, growing puzzled and ill at ease, waited some moments before he ventured to address her; her air was not such as to encourage him; her cheek was reddened and her eyes were indignant. Yet at last he plucked up his courage.