she did not
understand. How should she? I did not understand myself.

Our hostess, the nun, stood looking from one to the other of us with a
smile on her face of that fixity which denoted that she did not
understand a single word of what we were talking about.

Madame la Comtesse noted her isolation at once.

"Pray forgive me, _chere mere_," she said, breaking into French, which
she pronounced with a very charming accent. "Mr. Anstruther and I are
old friends. I meet madame, his wife, for the first time today."

In voluble language the Reverend Mother expressed her gratification at
so happy a re-union, and in the midst of her compliments a nun arrived
to say that _dejeuner_ was served.

"Go to your lunch, my dears," the Comtesse said, "you must be famished
after your long row on the lake." We had told her of our morning
excursion. "Come back to me here afterwards," she continued, "if you
will, and perhaps I will tell you that which you had a right to know
long ago. Go now, and come back to me. I shall be under those trees
yonder in the little arbour, which is cool in the heat of the
afternoon."

Dolores and I went off to our _dejeuner_, but though it was excellent,
we ate but little; we were thinking of the Comtesse.

"What a dear old lady she is," commented my warm-hearted little wife.
"I don't think I have ever seen any one with such a sweet expression as
she has!"

Neither had I, save, of course, Dolores.

"But whatever can she have to say to you, Will?" she continued, "and
what is this great service you have done her?"

Alas, I could not tell her! I remembered my promise of eternal
silence, made to her father before our marriage.

A cold muteness fell upon us both when I shook my head and did not
answer her; it was the first time that the barrier of secrecy had
arisen between us. The air of the room seemed cold as we sat there,
though the sun shone brilliantly without. The fruits the nuns had
placed before us at the end of our meal remained untouched.

"Coffee will be served to you on the terrace, monsieur and madame,"
announced our attendant nun, "it is the wish of Madame la Comtesse."

We arose silently, and went forth on to the sunlit terrace again, with
its wealth of flowers and perfumed air. We walked without a word
passing between us, and we came to the arbour in the shade overlooking
a grand stretch of blue lake; here was the Comtesse, a table before her
with coffee and liqueurs, a