And, at sight of her fair face, the young noble felt his bitterness vanish as the grey shadows must before the sunshine.
How he had learnt to love her, this brave little cousin, who was Breton to her finger-tips!
When the emotions are stirred in a hot, impetuous nature it is a quick leap from love to hate.
Yet he did not blind himself with the belief that love here was returned.
He had seen the light grow in hazel eyes on a day when Michael Berrington appeared suddenly in the morning-room at Langton Hall.
Since then he had known that Cousin Jéhan meant brother Jéhan to Gabrielle. And, being a man of honour as well as Breton noble, he accepted Fate's decree without murmur or strife. But it could not kill love, since that was of immortal birth, and so he hid his eyes from hers, lingering, as he bent over her hand, till he should regain the mastery over himself which he had been in danger of losing.
But Gabrielle had no thought for possible embarrassment. From the first moment she had accepted the new cousin as brother, and never dreamt of shyness or diffidence.
"I am so glad you have come," she repeated. "You will help us to find Morice."
"To find Morice?"
The echo of her words reminded him of past anger, of la Rouerie, of Cécile; and his mouth hardened.