beforehand."

"And suppose you don't marry? Your country is full of old maids. And
suppose the Castle does not let? It is very far from--anywhere!" said
Mademoiselle, who had lived in the gayest city in the world, and felt
the solitude of Bally William only a degree less absolute than that of
the backwoods themselves. "Suppose none of these things of which you
speak were to 'appen, what then?"

"Indeed, I can't tell you!" returned Bridgie, truthfully enough. "And--
excuse me, me love, it's not a very diverting suggestion for the time of
year! Let me keep my millionaire, if it's only for the day, for by the
same token I'm quite attached to him in prospect! Will you come and
visit me, Therese, when I'm comfortably established in my soap bubble?"

She was laughing again, full of mischief and wilful impracticability,
and Mademoiselle was tactful enough to realise that the time was not apt
for pressing her lesson further. Later on she would return to the
charge, but to-day at least might be safely given over to enjoyment.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

PAT'S TAUNT.

When the gong sounded that night two white-robed figures stole out of
Mademoiselle's room, and crept quietly along the gallery. Pat was
arrayed as a knight of old, wearing a pair of Esmeralda's old white
stockings, surmounted by loose linen trunks, the rest of the sheet being
ingeniously swathed round his body, and kept in place by such an
elaborate cris-crossing of tape as gave the effect of a slashed doublet.
A thickly pleated cloak, (made out of sheet number two), hung over his
shoulders, and the pillow-case was drawn into a cap, which was placed
jauntily on the side of his head. As handsome a young knight as one
could wish to see was Mr Patrick O'Shaughnessy, and the manner in which
he held Mademoiselle's hand, and led her down the great staircase,
evoked thunders of applause from the watchers beneath.

Mademoiselle herself looked worthy of her squire, for her dark, animated
face stood the test of the unrelieved whiteness so successfully, that
she was all ablush with delight at the discovery that she was not an old
woman after all, but on occasion could still look as girlish as she
felt. She was attired as a Normandy peasant, with turned-back skirt and
loose white bodice; but the feature of the costume was undoubtedly the
cap, which looked so extraordinarily like the real article that the
sceptical refused to believe in its pillow-case origin, unti