"Monsieur de Luynes," said I. "They did try to make me marry him afterward, but I had not heard of him at that time. He was a good old man, and very kind to me." "That was the name," continued Andrew. "My lord swore you should not touch a penny till you were twenty-one, whatever happened. But how came you to write yourself that you were going to be married?" "I did not," I answered. "It was a forgery then. There was a note in your handwriting, and signed with your name. I thought the hand looked a little Frenchified, but the signature was yours to a hair. Only for that I should have gone to Paris to find you; but I thought if you were well married, and with your own consent, I would not be a makebate between you and your husband. So I even turned the old place over to Margaret and her husband to care for, gathered together my prize-money, and what else I could, and came hither intending to turn settler. I was knocked down and hurt in the storm, which was the reason I did not see you upon your coming aboard. I was thinking on you when you came and spoke to me, and for a moment I thought it was your ghost." "Ghosts don't come at that time of day," said I. "And so Margaret is married?" "Yes, and well married as I could desire—to Mr. Treverthy, son of our good old knight. 'Tis an excellent marriage in every way." "And your mother?" "My mother lives with Margaret, and so does Rosamond for the present. Betty and her husband are in London, where he had some small office." Our conversation was interrupted by the return of Mr. Folsom. "And do you know what has kept me abroad so late?" said he, seeming much amused. "Even taking order for the accommodation of your French madame and her flock of lambs. I have them all safely and comfortably housed in the new tavern, and have sent for a French woman who can speak English to interpret for them." "What! Did she come on shore after all?" I asked. "She had no choice. The captain of the French ship positively refused to receive her, till his ship should be made ready for sea. So, as she could not well sleep in an open boat, she was at length prevailed upon to hear reason. I have been half over the town gathering beds and other needful comforts for them, and I have left the poor things at last happy over a hot supper." "I am glad they are comfortable. They have had a hard time of it. I don't know how they will bear to go to sea again." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIII. CONCLUSION. THE next day I went with Mrs. Folsom to carry some additional comforts, in the shape of linen and so on, to my old companions. I found them all comfortably housed in a new tavern, which, though not quite finished, was clean and cheerful. Mother Mary would not see us at all, but Sister Margaret came to us, and was very grateful for what we brought.