"Indeed! They walked with me as far as here; and then I said, `My dears, it is impossible for me to go up to Uncle Luke to-day, so I will sit down and rest, and go back alone.' I believe the air will refresh me." "I am sure it will. It is so fresh and sweet up here." "Ye-es," said Aunt Marguerite. "Have you seen my nephew to-day? No? Poor boy! He is in very bad spirits. Ah! Mr Leslie, I shall be very glad to see him once more as a des Vignes should be. With him placed in the position that should be his, and that engagement carried out regarding my darling Louise's future, I could leave this world of sorrow without a sigh." Leslie winced, but it was not perceptible to Aunt Marguerite, who, feeling dissatisfied with the result of her shot, fired again. "Of course it would involve losing my darling: but at my time of life, Mr Leslie, one has learned that it is one's duty always to study self-sacrifice. The des Vignes were always a self-sacrificing family. When it was not for some one or other of their kindred it was for their king, and then for their faith. You know our old French motto, Mr Leslie?" "I? No. I beg pardon." "Really? I should have thought you could not fail to see that. It is almost the only trace of our former greatness that my misguided brother--" "Were you alluding to Mr Luke Vine?" "No, no, no, no! To my brother, George des Vignes. Surely, Mr Leslie, you must have noted our arms upon the dining-room windows." "Oh, yes, of course, of course: and the motto, _Roy et Foy_." "Exactly," said Aunt Marguerite, smiling, "I thought it must have caught your eye." Something else was catching Duncan Leslie's eye just then--the last flutter of the scarf Louise wore before it disappeared round the foot of the cliff. "I shall bear it, I daresay, and with fortitude, Mr Leslie, for it will be a grand position that she will take. The de Lignys are a family almost as old as our own; and fate might arrange for me to visit them and make a long stay. She's a sweet girl, is she not, Mr Leslie?" "Miss Vine? Yes: you must be very proud of her," said the young man, without moving a muscle. "We are; we are indeed, Mr Leslie; but I am afraid I am detaining you." "I will not call it detaining me, Miss Marguerite," said Leslie, mockingly assuming a courtly manner in accord with that of his tormentor. "The Scotch had so much intercourse with the French years ago that they gave us a little polish, and I hope we have some trace of the old politeness left." He smiled and bowed before passing on, and Aunt Marguerite watched him till he disappeared down the zig-zag path, her own smile remaining so fixed that it seemed to be frozen on her lip, the more so that it was a cold, cruel-looking smile, verging on the malignant as she said softly--"That will be something for you to think about, Mr Duncan Leslie; and you shall find I am not a woman to be despised."