ay without taking the trouble to refute it, has
given me an insight into his nature, that fills me with admiration,
and yet, at the same time, with a sort of longing to see him
reinstated in his proper place, and casting out those slandering
interlopers.

But, as he was waiting to be answered, I had to collect my thoughts
and admit, not without a little bashfulness, that my first account of
my exploit had contained a slight prevarication.

In all he has to say about his little Scarthey domain, about the
existence he has made for himself there, I cannot help noticing with
what affection he speaks of Rene. Rene, according to Sir Adrian, is
everything and everywhere; a perfect familiar genius; he is counsellor
as well as valet, plays his master's game of chess as well as shaves
him, can tune his organ, and manage his boat, and cast his nets, for
he is fisherman as well as gardener; he is the steward of this
wonderful little estate, and its stock of one pony, one cow, and
twelve hens; he tends the light, and can cook a dinner a great deal
better than his great rival, old Margery.

Of this last accomplishment we had good proof in the shape of various
dainties that appeared at our dinner. For when I exclaimed in
astonishment, the master said, well pleased, and pointing to the
attentive major-domo: "This is Rene's way of spoiling me. But now he
has surpassed himself to celebrate so unique an occasion."

And Rene's face was all one grin of rapture. I observe that on
occasions his eyes wander quite tenderly from me to his master.

Shall I ever enjoy dinners again like those in that old ruined tower!
Or hours like those during which I listened to tales of peril and
adventure, or to the music that pealed forth from the distant corner,
when Sir Adrian sat down to his organ and made it speak the wordless
language of the soul: that language that made me at times shiver with
a mad yearning for life, more life; at times soothed my heart with a
caress of infinite softness.

How is it that our organ-songs at the convent _never_ moved me in this
fashion?

Ah! those will be days to remember; all the more for being certain
that they will not be forgotten by him. Yes, those days have brought
some light into his melancholy life.

Even Rene knows that. "Oh, my lady," said he to me as he was leaving
the island yesterday. "You have come like the good fairy, you have
brought back the joy of life to his honour: I have not heard him
real