“You are very good,” said Evereld shyly, “I have come to you because I was in great trouble, and I thought—I felt sure—you would help and advise me. It is impossible for me to stay longer with Sir Matthew Mactavish.”
Her eyes were full of tears, and Mrs. Magnay taking her hand began to lead her towards the carriage.
“You are quite tired out, poor child,” she said caressingly. “We are very sorry for your trouble, but very glad that it brought you to Mabillon. This evening you shall tell us all about it. Do you see that pretty girl waving her hand to us from the cottage door? That is my dear old Javotte’s granddaughter. Aimée has told you how she starved herself in the siege of Paris that we might have food enough. Dear old woman!”
“And here is one of the best views of Mont D’Or,” said Aimée, “only the light is fading so fast you can’t properly see it.”
Chatting thus, they soon reached the old château, a great part of which had now been carefully restored, and Mrs. Magnay seeing how pale and worn her guest looked, determined to take her straight upstairs.
“Run Aimée,” she said, “and tell your father to settle with the driver, and then bring a cup of tea for Evereld. I shall take her to Bride’s room, she will be more snug in there I think.”
So Evereld was taken straight to her friend, and then while Mrs. Magnay herself kindled the wood fire, and daintily piled up fir-cones to catch the blaze, Bride made her rest in the snuggest of easy chairs, and she had very soon told them the whole story.
“I know nothing of English law,” said Mrs. Magnay. “Are you sure you can put yourself under the protection of the Lord Chancellor?”
“I think so,” said Evereld. “Don’t you remember, Bride, how we used to tease you about your answer in that examination we had, when you wrote—‘The Lord Chancellor must be a very busy man for Blackstone says he is the natural guardian of all orphans, idiots and lunatics.’”
“To be sure I do,” said Bride laughing. “Well if Blackstone says so, you must surely be right.”