Mr. Elphinstone began to understand. "Yes, go with Elspeth, my bairn," he said. And Anne-Hilarion went, first saluting the hand of the lady, who thereafter bent and kissed him, and watched him as he departed. "Madame, will you not come into the house?" suggested Anne's grandfather. She shook her head with a little sigh. "Thank you, no, Monsieur. I will not detain you a moment. You can tell me what I want to know only too quickly, I fear." "It is about the Chevalier de la Vireville?" queried Mr. Elphinstone. She bowed her head without answering. A look of pain came over Glenauchtie's ruddy features. "Madame," he said, "it is best to be frank with you. We have no news of him since that fatal day of the surrender--no certain news, that is. We have made every inquiry in our power. My son-in-law was his friend, as you may have heard, and he was severely wounded at Quiberon. As it happens, almost the last thing he remembers is bidding a hasty farewell to M. de la Vireville, who was then with the retreating troops. He himself knew nothing more till he found himself that night on board the English frigate, one of whose boats had rescued him. We fear the worst now on M. de la Vireville's count, and it is a great grief to us. We owed him much, my son-in-law and I. In fact," finished Mr. Elphinstone not very steadily, "we owe him _that_!" He indicated the departing figure of Anne, now just disappearing with Elspeth through the garden gate. "I know," said the lady. "And I owe him much too--though we only met once. But what did you mean, Monsieur, by saying you had no 'certain' news? Have you any then that is uncertain?" "It is so untrustworthy," said Mr. Elphinstone, hesitating, "that I would rather not tell you." "I would rather hear it, Monsieur!" The old man still showed reluctance. "It is only this, Madame," he said at last, "that a friend of ours, a naval officer--he, in fact, who saved my son-in-law--met an émigré who said that he had seen M. de la Vireville's name in a list of those who were shot at Auray or Quiberon on a certain date in August. But indeed, Madame, that is not evidence--still less so because this officer's informant affirmed that he had seen the name in both lists--which is surely impossible." "I thank you, Monsieur," said the lady, putting down her long veil. "I had not really any hope. You will pardon me for having troubled you? Your son-in-law will, I trust, soon be restored to health. I am glad I have seen the little boy." She was extraordinarily calm, the old man thought. He went with her to the gate. For one moment, forgetting that she had confessed to having only once seen him, he wondered whether she had been La Vireville's wife. "May I know your name, Madame?" he asked, as he bowed over her hand. "The Comtesse de Guéfontaine," said she, and was gone. * * * * *