“To your friend, the Vicomte de Trincardel.”
He stared at me as if in great amazement, and when he spake his tone was that of a man deeply puzzled.
“You know the Vicomte de Trincardel?”
“Assuredly, monsieur—that is, I did know him. He was a frequent visitor at my guardian's both in Paris and London,” and then I stupidly fell to blushing like a school-girl.
“Strange, very strange,” he muttered, in an absent manner.
“No, monsieur, not strange,” I answered, for I could not bear he should misunderstand; “my family name is Nairn, and my guardian was the late Lady Jane Drummond.”
“Oh, pardon me, madame; it was only the odd chance of my meeting with you that I marvelled at. But it is a narrow world, after all, for a few years ago, when in Italy, I heard of your brother from the Cardinal York: he spake of him in terms of the warmest affection.”
“Hélas! monsieur, my brother is dead to me. He has deserted the cause to which I and mine have been faithful; he now holds a commission in the English army.”
“Again I must ask for pardon; but to come back to your plans. Now as to Louisbourg, there is no danger, madame, either on the journey or when you reach there, provided you leave again before spring. You can be safely back in Quebec before the snows go, and on your way to France by the first ship, long ere any serious danger threatens. I am taking for granted, however, that you will hardly choose to remain in this enchanting colony longer than may be necessary. Would it meet your wish, if you were to return by the spring?”
“Oh, perfectly, perfectly, monsieur!” I exclaimed, overjoyed to answer a question which presented no difficulties and opened out a way before me.