Little, however, did Elspeth Saunders, that staunch Calvinist, imagine, as she impatiently surveyed the child at his 'Popish exercises' that evening, what it was which caused their unusual prolongation, nor what forces were being invoked against her. Little did she realise to what heavenly interposition was due, at least to Anne-Hilarion's thinking, the fact that next afternoon, at half-past one precisely, she slipped on the stairs and twisted her ankle rather severely, so that she had to be conveyed to her room and Baptiste despatched to fetch the doctor. M. le Comte had not in his orisons specified the hour of the miracle--nor, of course, the form that it should take--but he was on the alert. Mr. Elphinstone was nowhere about, so his grandson slipped into the library, and penned, not without labour, the following note: "DEAR GRANDPAPA,--I think to go to France with M. le Vte. de Soucy, if God permits and there is mony suffisant in my box, to see Papa. I will not be gone for long dere Grandpapa. I love you alwaies." He stood upon a chair and put this communication on the library mantelpiece; then, clutching his money-box, he struggled successfully with the front door, and set out towards the hackney coaches standing for hire on the other side of the Square. (3) Anne-Hilarion met no dragons on his adventurous way--which, after all, was very short. The hackney-coachman--who may have had qualms about accepting so immature a passenger--was most agreeable, and willingly agreed to wait, on arrival at Golden Square, in case he should be wanted again. The only obstacle to progress was the purely physical barrier of a stout and slatternly woman who, at that unusual hour, was washing down the dingy staircase, and whom Anne-Hilarion was obliged to ask to let him pass. "Bless my soul!" ejaculated she, turning in clumsy surprise. "And what are you doing here by yourself, my little gentleman?" "I have come to see M. le Vicomte de Soucy," answered Anne-Hilarion. "He is above, is he not?" "The French gentleman? Yes, he is. I'll go first, dearie; mind the pail, now. To come alone--I never did! And who shall I say?" "The Comte de Flavigny," responded the little boy, with due gravity. Strange to say, M. de Soucy, in his attic room, did not hear the announcement, nor even the shutting of the door. He was sitting at a table, with his back to the visitor, his head propped between his hands, a letter open before him. There was that in his attitude which gave Anne-Hilarion pause; but he finally advanced, and said in his clear little voice: "M. le Vicomte!" The émigré started, removed his hands, and turned round. "Grand Dieu, c'est toi, Anne!"