a house, a tiny hamlet, and some vineyards, called by the family name of Contrecoeur, which meant her mother was her father’s wedded wife.
“Also,” she wrote, “my mother has told me that there are in the house some books and pictures and pretty joyeaux which were beloved by my father, and which he gave to her when she came to Contrecoeur, a bride. Also that her dot was still untouched, which, with her legal interest in my father’s property, would suffice to properly endow me, and still leave sufficient to maintain her.
“So you see, Euan, that the half naked little gypsy of Poundridge camp comes not entirely shameless to her husband after all. Oh, my own soldier, hasten — hasten! Every day I hear drums in Albany streets and run out to see; every