Wide-eyed she stood, turning from her tormentor, whilst anger died away into pleased welcome on her face.
"Morry!" she cried, and pushed past the man who would have hindered her, running lightly down the path and across a tangled stretch of neglected lawn, straight into the arms of her brother, who came at great strides to meet her.
He bent to kiss her with an affection that augured well for his temper, whilst she smiled up at him, half-curious, half-defiant, wondering when the scolding would begin.
Morice seemed in no hurry to commence, though he looked down doubtfully into his sister's eager face.
"Did the good fairies bring you, Gay?" he asked, giving her the pet name of long years ago, with a wistfulness she did not fail to note. "Tell me, child, what brought you hither?"
She faced him straightly, with a tiny wrinkle now between her brows.
"The honour of Varenac and Conyers," she replied, with the air of some grizzled veteran rather than a maid in her teens. "It seems that these poor, ignorant peasants, who are now to call you Seigneur, wanted a leader in crying 'Vive le roi.' And so I came to help them, hearing that you had forgotten how to be a leader of men, and were ready to echo new tunes with foul meaning."
She paused, out of breath, and fully expecting a torrent of angry words in reply.
To her surprise there was silence for one of those long minutes in which one hears the twittering of birds and the drowsy hum of Nature's myriad voices.
Then Morice spoke, not angrily, but with humility and steadfast purpose.
"It is true, Gay," he said. "I had forgotten many things, of which you do well and bravely to remind me. Yet Brittany had taught me those neglected lessons already. I came from Kérnak hither to meet my people and cry with them 'Vive le roi'."
She was too amazed to speak another word.
"Yes, I. Do not fear that I lie to you, child. I come _now_ as Marquis, not citizen, to my own."
"But Michael said you had come to bid the peasants of your villages join the patriots--become Revolutionaries."
"He went first to Paris; but he will be coming to Varenac."
"Will meet a different reception to what he anticipated."
"I cannot tell you all, Gay; only see, sister mine, I found a teacher in Brittany worth a hundred Trouets and Denninghams."
