Helen did not understand all this--or nearly all; but she caught a word now and then, and her father’s face filled her with alarm. It had been smiling enough at first, though with that drawn and artificial smile which she had only remarked of late; but by degrees Mr Goulburn’s head had dropped, he stooped over his plate, fixing his attention on that, yet now and then directed a furtive glance from under his eyebrows at the speaker. And his face grew ghastly pale, yet he took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. His hands trembled as he raised his glass to his lips. The _vin du pays_ was not likely to inspire much courage, but he drank a large quantity, large enough to make the Maire and the Notaire stare. All this Helen remarked, though perhaps no one else did. He did everything he could to preserve appearances; but her attention was roused, and she was on the alert and saw everything, and almost more than everything. What had he to do with this story of disgrace and ruin? Some one came in at this moment, a stranger, who was placed in a seat on her other hand; but she was so intent upon her father that she did not even see who it was. There was a pause, which seemed terrible to her--and to him; but which to the others was a most natural and simple, nay, flattering moment of silence after the Maire’s impressive remarks. “You say such things happen only in England; is no one ever bankrupt in France?” Mr Goulburn said at last. “Alas!” said M. le Maire, “misfortune comes in all countries. But a French _commerçant_ bears it--not so well as your countrymen, monsieur. I have known men who have undergone that and now hold up their heads again; and I have known men, _ma foi!_ who could not bear it, who thought of nothing but a pistol-shot. One follows the customs of one’s country. I have heard that Englishmen grow fat upon it. Pardon! you understand that is a pleasantry. No one can have more respect for the English than I.” “It is a pleasantry, M. le Maire, which an Englishman hears with very little pleasure,” said Mr Goulburn. Helen looking at him with her anxious eyes, felt that her father was glad of some cause for seeming angry, and caught at this justification of his own excitement. But while her mind was intent upon him, watching him with an eager anxiety and curiosity beyond words, she started to hear herself addressed on the other side. “Is it possible that it is Miss Goulburn? Can I be mistaken? a pleasant voice said in English. She turned round quickly, and found a fair-haired and very sunburnt young man, whom she did not at first recognise, and upon whom she looked with suspicion and alarm. Her fears had been excited, she could scarcely tell how or why. Every one who knew her seemed a possible enemy. Were they not fugitives, whatever might be the cause?