"Perhaps to-morrow my sister Cécile will ride over with me," he said, "to stay with you as companion."
"Yes, yes. Do bring her, Cousin Jéhan. I am longing to see her. There, I shall be looking forward so eagerly now for the morrow. And you are returning to Kérnak to-night?"
"Unless I can be of service to you here?"
"I thank you heartily; but there is nothing to be done at present. I am very weary and shall go to bed. To-morrow——"
To-morrow! How each heart echoed the word with strangely mingled anticipation.
"To-morrow," replied Count Jéhan, gravely bowing over his cousin's outstretched hand, "I will bring Cécile to Varenac."
"I shall welcome her gladly. And Morice will be here to-morrow?"
"Most probably."
"And then we will persuade him. Yes, I am sure we shall do that—persuade him that he is the Marquis de Varenac."
Her voice rang proudly over those last words. But Michael Berrington was watching the face of Lord Denningham as he stood, with folded arms, surveying the little champion of Royalty, whilst she spoke her happy, confident words.