Fondling it with both her own, she led
Genevieve away, turning her back upon Lucy and her, 'We were only--'
The poor girl shook more and more, and when they reached the shelter
of the house, gave way to a tightened, oppressed sob, and at the
first kind words a shower of tears followed, and she took Albinia's
hand, and clasped it to her breast in a manner embarrassing to
English feelings, though perfectly natural and sincere in her. 'Ah!
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.
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