in speaking it, and it signified an end to the distractions produced by the sex, allegiance to one beloved respected woman, and also a basis of operations against the w

y. She was a prize. She was a splendid prize, cut out from under the guns of the fort. He rendered all that was due to his eminently good cause for its part in

s much as could be expected of a struggling man. This was the state of the case with him, until he stood on French earth, breathed French air, and chanced to hear the tongue of France twittered by a lady on the quay. The charm was instantaneous. He reminded himself that Renee, unlike her countrywomen, had no gift for writing letters. They had never corresponded since the hour of her marriage. They had met in Sicily, at Syracuse, in the presence of he

ed purely the words which said she needed him. Why, those brief words were the poetry of noble confidence! But what could her distre

y the fee for his share of life. This at least was one of the forms of love which precipitate men: the sole thought in him was to be with her. She was Renee, the girl of whom he had prophetically said that she must come to regrets and tears. His visio

the passage of it, but featureless-and it had proved him right! It was to Nevil Beauchamp as if the

cted to invite him to stay at Chateau Dianet in the event of his arriving late, but it would be possible to overtake madame by a cut across the heights at a turn of the valley. Beauchamp pushed along the valley for this visible projection; a towering mass of woodland, in the midst of which a narrow roadway, worn like the track of a torrent with heavy rain, wound upward. On his descent to the farther side, he was to spy directly below in the flat for Tourdestelle. He crossed the wooded neck above the valley, and began descending, peering into

e rode down, still uncertain of her, she came can

It was Renee whose hand he clasped, but the story of the years on her, and w

ere loosened without a voice. 'You h

of speech alarmed him. '

m we

hangs o

thi

me just th

nce. Have you

on with them. They u

it was I

t be? I heard Ven

under the road-side bank. He sprang at it and waved it, leapt in the saddle, and remarked, as he drew up beside

the breast buttonhole of his coat. It could hardly be a flower.

s name: 'M. le Comt

amp with an extrem

beseeching an exemption from that horrible mal de mer. Thanks to th

said Renee, and her hors

foliage they reached the level of the valley, where for a couple of miles she led them, stretching away merrily, now in shadow, now in moonlight, between high land

hat was like and unlike the Renee of old, full of her, but in another key, a mellow note, matur

ight I would have taken you by another way, and you would have seen the black tower burnt in the Revolution; an imp

ible to Beauchamp; h

ll view, and Beauchamp thought him supremely handsome. He percei

that she was aware of the method of provoking or reproving M. d'Henriel. He endured so

d my valley. You used to love France, Nevil; and Normandy, they tell me, is cousin to the opposite coast of England, in climate, soil, people, it may be in ma

nly the wish to see

does not live for ever-

ds should be shadows to

wished to see you: I wa

ne

relie

ve forgotten my c

feature

reathed inv

have me f

ately? And it is in absence that we desire our friends to be friendship itself. And . . . and I am utterly astray! I have not dealt in this language since I last

on a double sweep of the little river roun

should ever see you looking

ell him what story this face, once heaven to him, wore imprinted on it. Her smile upon a parted mouth struck him as two-edged in replying: 'I have good news to give you of them all: Roland

t it was, though it led him to say, undesigningly: 'How very

sfortune to be considered the

an Itali

er was Pr

e rarities. And, by the way, they do not set our world on fire quite as muc

ay canvassing in Bevisham. He had only to imagine himself

band is t

his ple

was good news to give of him as well as o

ting to take her pleasure in travel. I hear upon authority that she dresses in white, and wears a black crucifix. She is many centuries old, and still she lives to remind people that she married a Rouaillout. Do you not think she should have come to me to welcome me? She never has; and possibly of ladies who are disembodied we may say that they know best. For me, I desire the interview-and I am a coward: I

ee's broad grey Longueville hat curved low with its black plume on the side farthest from him. He

e at his breast,

e wears a glove at his breast

t his shoulder, as if waiting to be questio

with his unutterable quest

me beg you; let me

ng would not have surprised him more; for there had not been a single vibration of her voice to tell him of tears running: nay, the absence of the usual French formalities in her mann

I am not insensible to the picturesque or to gratitude, and I thank you sincerely f

pt to t

, she stretched her whip out to a bl

two o'clock after midni