u so much!"

He drew her to him as if he would never let her go again.

"If I could only be with you always, my darling. It is cruel to keep us
apart for a year."

"It was poor papa's wish, Everard."

Presently madame came in, and there were lights, and bustle, and
separation. Mme. Hunsden must not remain too long, must not excite
herself. Monsieur must go away, and come again to-morrow.

"I will let her see you every day, poor, homesick child, until she is
well enough to go into the _classe_ and commence her studies. Then, not
so often. But monsieur will be gone long before that!"

"No," Sir Everard said, distinctly. "I remain in Paris for the winter.
I trust to madame's kind heart to permit me to see Miss Hunsden often."

"Often! Ah, _mon Dieu_! how you English are impetuous! so--how do you
call him?--unreasonable! Monsieur may see mademoiselle in the salon
every Saturday afternoon--not oftener."

"It is better so, Everard. I want to study--Heaven knows I need it! and
your frequent visits would distract me. Let once a week suffice."

Sir Everard yielded to the inevitable with the best grace possible. He
took his leave, raising Harriet's hand to his lips.

Harrie lingered by the window for a moment, looking wistfully after the
slender figure, and slow, graceful walk.

"If he only knew!" she murmured. "If he only knew the terrible secret
that struck me down that night! But I dare not tell--I dare not, even
if that voice from the dead had not forbidden me. I love him so
dearly--so dearly! Ah, pitiful Lord! let him never know!"

CHAPTER XVI.

THE BARONET'S BRIDE.

The winter months wore by. Spring came, and still that most devoted of
lovers, Sir Everard Kingsland, lingered in Paris, near his gray-eyed
divinity. His life was no dull one in the gayest capital of Europe.
He had hosts of friends, the purse of Fortunatus, the youth and beauty
of a demi-god. Brilliant Parisian belles, flashing in ancestral
diamonds, with the blue blood of the old _regime_ in their delicate
veins, showered their brightest smiles, their most entrancing glances,
upon the handsome young Englishman in vain. His loyal heart never
swerved in its allegiance to his gray-eyed queen--the love-light that
lighted her dear face, the warm, welcoming kiss of her cherry lips,
were worth a hundred Parisian belles with their ducal coats of arms.
"Faithful and true" was the motto on his seal; faithful and true in
every wor