er's affections, and it was to me that he introduced it. She
came into the room while we talked and Graham followed.

"Take her, John Bretton," he said, "and may God deal with you as you
deal with her!"

_VI.--A Professor's Love-Story_

The pupils from the schools of the city were assembled for the yearly
prize distribution--a ceremony followed by an oration from one of the
professors. I think I was glad when M. Paul appeared behind the crimson
desk, fierce and frank, dark and candid, testy and fearless, for then I
knew that neither formalism nor flattery would be the doom of the
audience.

On Monsieur's birthday it was the habit of the scholars to present him
with flowers, and I had worked a beaded watch-chain, and enclosed it in
a sparkling shell-box, with his initials graved on the lid. He entered
that day in a mood that made him as good as a sunbeam, and each pupil
presented her bouquet, till he was hidden at his desk behind a pile of
flowers. I waited. Then he demanded thrice, in tragic tones: "Is that
all?" The effect was ludicrous, and the time for my presentation had
passed. Thereupon he fell, with furious abuse, upon the English, and
particularly English women. But I presented the chain to him later, and
that day closed for us both with a wordless content, so full was he of
friendliness.

The professor's care for me took curious forms. He haunted my desk with
unseen gift-bringing--the newest books, the correction of exercises, the
concealment of bonbons, of which he was fond.

One day he asked me whether, if I were his sister, I should always be
content to stay with a brother such as he. I said I believed I should.
He continued: "If I were to go beyond seas for two or three years,
should you welcome me on my return?"

"Monsieur, how could I live in the interval?" was my reply.

The explanation of that question soon came. He had, it seemed, to sail
to Basseterre, in Guadeloupe, to attend to a friend's business
interests. For what I felt there was no help, and how could I help
feeling?

Of late he had spent hours with me, with temper soothed, with eye
content, with manner home-like and mild. The mutual understanding was
settling and fixing. And when the time came for him to say good-bye, we
rambled forth into the city. He talked of his voyage. What did I propose
to do in his absence? He did not like leaving me at Madame Beck's--I
should be so desolate.

We were now returning from our walk, when,