It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. The prospect of the gallows would never deter me from taking to the road, if I were so inclined. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine.
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