Margery and I are second cousins. That's all. But I knew her long ago, before my poor cou

pen mouth to Aunt Theresa at this time, and often afterwards

erested to hear, as I was proud to tell, and would say, "Tell us about your ancestors, Margery." And if we

ll put it down here in my own way, for Aunt

o surviving children; but they say it went in the wrong line. The cousin who had remained in France, and always managed to keep the favour of the ruling powers, got the title, and remade his fortunes; the others remained in England, very poor and very proud. They would not have accepted any favours from the new r

where these poor people were when they came over, and she used to tell her wonderful stories about them. How, in her delirium (she was insane for some

ancies of a brain tried just too far, the mad whims of a lady who could "go about," and who insisted upon going about, and changing her dress two or three times a day, and

they were always begging to hear "what else she did." But Nurse Brown seems to have been fondest of relating the smart speeches in which she endeavoured to "put sense into" the devoted French servant who toiled to humour every whim of her unhappy mistress, in

and would have done themselves a injury but for a strait-jacket; and I've knowed folks in fevers unreasonable enough, but they kept their beds in a d

urse Brown's sayings, and the little shake of her

se Brown, so she said. No sooner had the poor gentleman gone off on some errand for her pleasure than she called for him to be with her, and was only to be pacified by a fable of Jeanette's devising, who always said that "the King" had summoned Monsieur de Vandaleur. Jeanette was well aware that, the childless old

d all the few trifles secured in their hasty flight, were sold one by one. His face was familiar to the keepers of certain stalls near to where Covent Garden Market

t gratify her wish. Everything was gone. He said, "Th

t) assured Jeanette that it would not. "

ur did die of grief, or something very like it, within twenty-fou

uke and Duchess would have starved. As the boy grew up she kept him as far as possible from common companions, treated him with as much d

It was after he had come to the help of his young kinsman, I think, that an old French lady took a fancy to the boy, and sent him to school in France at her own expense. He

rd, that her only child, a daughter,

ned a romantic heart with a practical head in a way peculiar to her nation. She knew the pedigree of every family (who had a pedigree) north of the Tweed, and was, probably, the best housekeeper in Great Britain. She devoutly believed her own husband to be a

quite kept herself from amusing her daughter's childhood with tales of the de Vandaleur greatness. But after her husband discovered his young relative, and as their daughter grew up, she purposely avoided the subject, which had, probably, the sole effect of increasing her daughter's interest in the family romance. Mrs. Janet knew the de Vandaleur pedigree as well as her own, and had shown a miniature of the late Duke

weak of will, merely passive in endurance, and quite without energy. He had a graceful, fanciful, but almost weak intellect. I mean, it just bordered on mental deficiency; and at times his dreamy eyes took a wildness that was said to make him painfully like his mother in her last days. He was an absurd but gracefully

nder Monsieur de Vandaleur

behind the house towards a favourite beck that ran in a gorge below. She was singing an old French song in praise of the beauty of

andaleur! Vict

blushed as her eyes met those of a strange young gentleman, w

ch the white poodle sat up, and his master b

. He was personally so like the miniature, that he might have been the old Duke. He was the young one, as even her mother allowed. For him, he found a companion whose birth

she had a mother's heart. In the direct line he was a Duke, and she was a Scotchwoman. He freely consented to settle ever

married with not more than th

venteen. They were my great-gra

trand de Vandaleur was less helpful and practical than any Bertrand de Vandaleur before him, the more there seems to have developed in her the purpose and capability inherited from Mrs. Janet. Like many another poor and ambitious mother, s

complaint at this; but when he left his own Church for that of his wife, there came a terrible breach between them and their only son. His mother soon forgave him; but the father was as immovable in his displeasure as weak people can sometimes be. Happily, however, after the birth of a grandson peace was made, and the young husband brought his

f the most cruel of all seas. The vessel they went out in was lost during a week of st

child was m