er with no particular reason
for being anywhere, and it had been in contemplation to cross the
Atlantic. Sue's investments had prospered of late, and there would have
been no difficulty about funds--yet each sister was conscious of a sense
of relief when the expedition was abandoned. Sue was timorous and a bad
traveller,--while Leo, from whom the suggestion had emanated, no sooner
found it taking shape than she repented. What was she going for? What
could the new country yield that the old could not? Could it heal her
sore heart? Could it banish remembrance? Could it give her news of Paul?
Paul, who had vanished from the face of the earth?

Rather she would be turning her back upon any possibility of either
hearing of or seeing him again; and though, of course, she could not
wish that they should meet, and in the natural sequence of events, they
were most unlikely to meet, it would be something only to--oh, anything
would be better than that bitter blank, that desolation of ignorance
which was so impenetrable, so insurmountable.

Sue knew now about Paul. When Maud died there was no further reason for
concealment, and albeit the shock was great, it was a consolation to
both sisters to drop the veil between them.

"But you do understand, don't you, that he never--never even when I
almost forced it from him, said that it was _I_?" murmured Leo. "I knew
it; I felt it; but he did not, he would not say it. Oh, I did so long
for him to say it just once--but he never did. Sue, you know that little
old jug I have upstairs?" suddenly she broke off, as it appeared
inconsequently.

"Little old jug?" Sue reflected, but could not remember. And she
wondered somewhat. What could "a little old jug" have to do with the
present conversation?

"The one with the French soldier's motto. It used to be on the anteroom
mantelpiece at Boldero. Oh, you must remember it, Sue."

"We had so much china, dear----"

"But this was the one I asked you to give me for my own--however,
listen. The motto was:--

"Mon ame a Dieu,
Ma vie au Roi,
Mon coeur aux Dames,
L'honneur pour moi."

"Paul noticed it one day, and turned round and said, 'That's
splendid,'--and read it again. That was when he first came. And
afterwards, when things were getting very bad, I came upon him standing
in front of the mantelpiece, staring at the jug. I rather liked it
myself, but I didn't see it as he did, for on that dreadful day," she
looked down, ev