“Monsieur Gramont,” said Mabel, looking him steadily and unflinchingly in the face, “I have heard every word of the artful and cowardly insinuations and threats with which you have assailed my beloved mother, creating a feeling of agony for the safety of her children, for the purpose of gaining your own ends.” “Mademoiselle,” interrupted Bertram Gramont, his face flushed with suppressed rage, and excited by the look of scorn and detestation that Mabel made no effort to conceal, “you are severe and unjust. Admiration of your beauty——” “Monsieur,” hastily interrupted Mabel, “let us end this scene, and take your answer from me. To save my mother or my brother’s life I would sacrifice my own at any time. But none of their lives are at all endangered, and your assertion of my brother’s arrest is false. But supposing all that you have said to be true, in answer to your proposal of uniting your destiny to mine, I now tell you, that sooner than do so I would cheerfully submit to lay my head beneath the axe.” There were tears in the mother’s eyes as Mabel turned to her and threw her arms round her neck, and said— “Dear mother, do not give way to fear or agitation; the same Providence that has hitherto protected and shielded us will not now desert us. We have braved greater dangers than this. The monsters that disgraced this ill-starred land no longer exist; we shall have justice, and whatever our doom may be, we shall still be together.” “Very well, mademoiselle,” said Bertram Gramont, giving way to his passion, “so you despise and scorn me. I will now prove to you that your words are nought, and that you may yet sue for that which you have despised.” He was turning to the door, when it opened and Monsieur Plessis entered the room. He and his wife had a few minutes before returned from Havre. Monsieur Gramont paused, and so did Jean Plessis. After civilly saluting the maire, he said— “How is it that I see Madame Coulancourt weeping? has anything occurred to distress you, madame?” “Monsieur Plessis,” said Bertram Gramont, “you appear to me to be blessed, not only with immense assurance, but also to have a happy knack of keeping your head upon your shoulders. Now, it appears to me this time you have placed it in jeopardy.” “Pardon, Monsieur le Maire,” interrupted Jean Plessis with a smile, “you must be joking. For years I never felt my head so safe as at this moment. I wished much to see you to speak on the subject of the attempt made to rob me on my journey here.” Monsieur Gramont visibly started, and at once fiercely said— “What do you mean, sir? what have I to do with that affair? It was investigated, as far as it was in my power, at the time.” “True, monsieur,” returned Jean Plessis, calmly, “but I have this day learned that one of the robbers is actually in your château, lying wounded; his eye being knocked out by a splinter of rock, in the affair on Lyon Point.” Bertram Gramont grew livid with rage.