. You would have remained in
the house."

He made a bow.

"To-morrow, Mademoiselle," said he, "and for the remainder of the days
that I may be at La Lierre, I shall stay in my room. You need have no
fear of me."

All the man's life he had been spoiled. The girl's bearing hurt him
absurdly, and a little of the hurt may have betrayed itself in his face
as he turned away, for she came toward him with a swift movement,
saying:

"No, no! Wait!--I have hurt you," she said, with a sort of wondering
distress. "You have let me hurt you.... And yet surely you must see,...
you must realize on what terms.... Do you forget that you are not among
your friends... outside?... This is so very different!"

"I had forgotten," said he. "Incredible as it sounds, I had for a moment
forgotten. Will you grant me your pardon for that? And yet," he
persisted, after a moment's pause--"yet, Mademoiselle, consider a
little! It is likely that--circumstances have so fallen that it seems I
shall be here within your walls for a time, perhaps a long time. I am
able to walk a little now. Day by day I shall be stronger, better able
to get about. Is there not some way--are there hot some terms under
which we could meet without embarrassment? Must we forever glare at each
other and pass by warily, just because we--well, hold different views
about--something?"

It was not a premeditated speech at all. It had never until this moment
occurred to him to suggest any such arrangement with any member of the
household at La Lierre. At another time he would doubtless have
considered it undignified, if not downright unwise, to hold intercourse
of any friendly sort with this band of contemptible adventurers. The
sudden impulse may have been born of his long week of almost intolerable
loneliness, or it may have come of the warm exhilaration of this first
breath of sweet, outdoor air, or perhaps it needed neither of these
things, for the girl was very beautiful--enchantment breathed from her,
and, though he knew what she was, in what despicable plot she was
engaged, he was too much Ste. Marie to be quite indifferent to her.
Though he looked upon her sorrowfully and with pain and vicarious shame,
he could not have denied the spell she wielded. After all, he was Ste.
Marie.

Once more the girl looked up very gravely under her brows, and her eyes
met the man's eyes. "I don't know," she said. "Truly, I don't know. I
think I should have to ask my father about it.--