si bonne! si bonne! pardonnes-moi, Madame!' she exclaimed, sobbing,
and probably not knowing that she was speaking French; 'but, oh,
Madame, you will tell me! Is it true--can he?'

'Can who? What do you mean, my dear?'

'The Admiral,' said Genevieve, looking about frightened, and sinking
her voice to a whisper. 'Miss Louisa said so, that he could send and
search--'

'Search for what, my dear?'

'For my poor little secret. Ah, Madame, assuredly I may tell you.
It is but a French Bible, it belonged to my martyred ancestor,
Francois Durant, who perished at the St. Barthelemi--it is stained
with his blood--it has been handed on, from one to the other--it was
all that Jacques Durant rescued when he fled from the Dragonnades--it
was given to me by my own dear father on his death-bed, with a charge
to keep it from my grandmother, and not to speak of it--but to guard
it as my greatest treasure. And now--Oh, I am not disobeying him,'
cried Genevieve, with a fresh burst of tears. 'You can feel for me,
Madame, you can counsel me. Can the magistrates come and search,
unless I confess to those young ladies?'

'Most decidedly not,' said Albinia. 'Set your mind at rest, my poor
child; whoever threatened you played you a most base, cruel trick.'

'Ah, do not be angry with them, Madame; no doubt they were in sport.
They could not know how precious that treasure was to me, and they
will say much in their gaiety of heart.'