s long after he had
disappeared, leaving her in a state of mingled ecstasy and confusion.
Her cheeks were flushed and her heart throbbed violently. She hurried
away to conceal her embarrassment from Dolores, who was following her,
and soon went to join Philip at the Buissieres. This was the name they
had bestowed upon a hedge of tall bushes to the left of the park, and
which enclosed as if by two high thick walls a quiet path where the
sun's rays seldom or never found their way. It was to this spot that
Antoinette directed her steps, reproaching herself all the while for the
readiness with which she obeyed Philip, and looking back every now and
then to see if any one was observing her.

She soon arrived at the Buissieres; Philip was awaiting her. On seeing
her approach, he came forward to meet her. She noticed that his manner
was perfectly composed, that his features betrayed no emotion, and that
he was smiling as if to assure her that what he desired to tell her was
neither solemn nor frightful in its nature. Antoinette was somewhat
disappointed. She had expected to find him pale and nervous, and with
his hair disordered like the lovers described in the two or three
innocent romances that had chanced to fall into her hands.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, for troubling you," began Philip, without the
slightest hesitation; "but the service you can render me is of such
importance to me, and the happiness of my whole life is so dependent
upon it, that I have not scrupled to appeal to your generosity."

"In what way can I serve you?" inquired Mademoiselle de Mirandol, whose
emotion had been suddenly calmed by this preamble, so utterly unlike
anything she had expected to hear.

"I am in love!" began Philip.

She trembled, her embarrassment returned and her eyes dropped. Philip
continued:

"She whom I love is charming, beautiful and good, like yourself. You
surely will not contradict me, for it is Dolores whom I love!"

Why Antoinette did not betray her secret, she, herself, could not
understand when she afterwards recalled the circumstances of this
interview. She did, however, utter a stifled cry which Philip failed to
hear. She felt that she turned very pale, but her change of color was
not discernible in the shadow. It was with intense disappointment that
she listened to Philip's confession. He told her that he had loved
Dolores for more than four years, but that she had known it only a few
months, and that she hod mad