"Never more to part," he answered in broken tones. "We shall be happy always? Always together?"
"Always now. For ever!"
[CHAPTER XXXII.]
MORE LIGHT
"Yes," Debrasques said, after Andrew told him of Marion's death and also of all that, in the delirium of her end, she had revealed. "I knew something of what she informed you. Knew that he had brought her to France, had run away with her from an Englishman of your name. Thought at first, when we met in Paris--after you helped me with those vagabonds--that you were he. You remember my agitation?"
"Yes. I remember." Then, reflectively--putting the fire logs together with the toe of his boot--he went on: "Yet--yet--do not be hurt with me, Valentin--but--such an affair as that is deemed in France only one of gallantry--deemed so, too, in England now, since Charles has returned. Why, therefore, was the agitation of which you speak so great? He was a good swordsman, could hold his own well--in our encounter 'twas chance as much as skill gave me the advantage. Was it fear for his life--of my vengeance--that unnerved you so?"
"Nay. Nay," the other said. "Nay! Rather the fear of disgrace to our family if he were exposed--the fear of the punishment Louis would mete out to him for his deception. For his lie."
"His deception! His lie! To whom--Louis?"
"Ay," Debrasques answered. "Ay. And to Turenne. Barillon, our Minister to your Court, sent over a complaint that had been made by her father--it reached Louis' ears--he sent it on to the Marshal--to Turenne. Then--then--De Bois-Vallée had to give an explanation and--nothing short of his word that he and the lady were married would have saved him from disgrace--from expulsion from Turenne's bodyguard."
"And," said Andrew quickly, "he gave that word?"