A CASTLE IN BRITTANY
nephew, the Marquis Amédé de Terhoven—such a misguided young man—has got into bad company in that den of wickedness called Paris—since then it has been debts—always debts—his mother is so indulgent!—too indulgent! but an only son!—the charming English ladies would understand. It was very sad—very, very sad—and no wonder Mademoiselle de Genneville was very angry. She had paid Monsieur le Marquis' debts once, twice, three times—but now she will not pay any more—but she is in great trouble and wants a friend—a female friend, one of her own country, she declares—for he himself, alas! was only a poor curé de village, and did not understand great ladies and their curious ways. It would be true Christian charity if the charming English lady would come and see Mademoiselle.
"But her own sister, the Marquise?" suggested Lady Molly, breaking in on the old man's volubility.
"Ah! her sister, of course," he replied with a sigh. "Madame la Marquise—but then she is Monsieur le Marquis' mother, and the charming English lady would understand—a mother's heart, of course"
"But I am a complete stranger to Miss de Genneville," protested Lady Molly.
"Ah, but Mademoiselle has always remained an Englishwoman at heart," replied the Curé. "She said to me to-day: 'I seem to long for an English-
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