"It will please you to heare the Affaire goes according to our hopes. The people are well dispos’d to the Gentleman you wot of, & the rule of the Saintes is abhorr’d of the moste. But businesse of State holds lesse in your Estimation than the fortunes of your brother, and I have a peece of Newes that will put your gentle heart all in a Flutter. What do ’ee think, sweete? You never had a sister: will you thanke me if I give you one? There! not to keepe you on tenterhooks, I designe—now is yr heart going pit-a-pat—to wed: ay, Mary, your brother has met his fate. This daye weeke the Knot is to be ty’d. I knowe the questions that at this Newes flocke into your mind: is she black or faire, tall or short, of court or cottage? I am not carefull to answer; you shall love her, my sweet; ’tis the fairest, dearest ladie lucky man ever wonne, yonge, freshe, winsome as you could wishe. I dare not, as you may beleeve, wed in my owne name; ’tis too perilous as yet, my Businesse being what it is; indeede, Lucy herselfe knows not of my family, for being so yonge and simple, she might let fall in an unwatch’d moment what might bring me to the block. She shall knowe all in due season. I have not open’d my Designe to our brother, for in truthe I find no reason to truste him; his warm professions of Zeale for us seeme to me but Flams. I feare he has play’d throughout a Double Game. He stands exceeding well with the Godly Partie, & having been at Paines to enquire thro’ a sure friend I can heare of nothing done in our behalfe, but rather of endeavors to feather his owne nest. But enough of that; if our hopes are crown’d, as praye God they may be speedilie, Nicolas will have——" Harry paused as he read the name. ——"Nicolas will have no choice but to quitte the Hall, and make what Profitte he may of his owne farmes. Ask in yr prayers that the Happie Daie be hasten’d. And now no more from your righte loving Brother EUSTACE." Harry laid the letter down, and looked at Mynheer Grootz. "Why did you pause?" asked the Dutchman. "’Twas a thought I had, Mynheer. It may be vain. Before I say more, will you look at the next paper?" "Hé!" exclaimed Madame de Vaudrey, "I am becoming curious." Mynheer Grootz with the same imperturbable calm unfolded the next paper of the bundle. "This," he said, scanning it over his spectacles, "is not a letter; it is a document. It records the marriage, in the Huguenot church in Paris, on May 2, 1658, of Louis Marie Honoré, Comte de Vaudrey, aged 34, with Mary Berkeley,"—he pronounced the name in three syllables, foreign fashion—"aged 22, daughter of John Berkeley Esquire of Winton Hall, in the county of Wiltshire, England."