"Ah, well, Armand! if the child will not go, we cannot force her, poor lamb! but 'tis not saying that we are beggars and I cannot help thinking that Monseigneur may be right in his advice after all."
Then as Papa Legros sighed and shook his head, staring in mute depression straight out before him, Rose Marie rose from the window seat and came close to where her parents sat. Kneeling beside the kind father, whose every sigh cut into her heart, looking up at those streaks of grey in her mother's smooth hair, she said simply:
"We are beggars, Father, Mother dear, beggared of happiness, of joy, of pride. Father, we'll to England when you will. We'll seek out my lord of Stowmaries and make appeal to him, that he may restore to us that which in wantonness he hath taken away."
"The child is right, Armand," said maman, and like a true phœnix from out the flames, her optimism rose triumphant:
"I do verily believe," she said cheerfully, the while she surreptitiously wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, "I do verily believe that the young man when he sees our Rose Marie will repent him of his folly and will be joyful to take her to his heart."
CHAPTER XXXIII
Brute worshippers or wielders of the rod
Most murderous even of all that call thee God!