y thoughts fled in confusion, and I
realized how little call I had to ask assistance. My eyes fell, and
the words trembled unspoken on my lips. When I dared glance up again
the Mother had slipped silently from the room, leaving us alone. No
doubt he felt the difference also, for he stepped forward and caught
my hand in his, his whole manner changing, as he thus assumed
leadership. 'Twas so natural, so confidently done, that I felt a
sudden wave of hope overcome my timidity.

"Come, Mademoiselle," he said, almost eagerly. "There is no reason for
you to fear confiding in me. Surely I was never sent for without just
reason. Let us sit here while you retell the story. Perchance we will
play boy and girl again."

"You remember that?"

"Do I not!" he laughed pleasantly. "There were few pleasant memories I
took with me into the wilderness, yet that was one. Ay, but we talked
freely enough then, and there is naught since in my life to bring loss
of faith. 'Tis my wish to serve you, be it with wit or blade." He bent
lower, seeking the expression in my eyes. "This Hugo Chevet--he is a
brute. I know--is his abuse beyond endurance?"

"No, no," I hastened to explain. "In his way he is not unkind. The
truth is he has lived so long in the woods alone, he scarcely speaks.
He--he would marry me to Monsieur Cassion."

Never will I forget the look of sheer delight on his face as these
words burst from me. His hand struck the bench, and he tossed back the
long hair from his forehead, his eyes merry with enjoyment.

"Ah, good! By all the saints, 'tis even as I hoped. Then have no fear
of my sympathy, Mademoiselle. Nothing could please me like a clash
with that perfumed gallant. He doth persecute you with his wooing?"

"He has not spoken, save to Chevet; yet it is seemingly all arranged
without my being approached."

"A coward's way. Chevet told you?"

"Three days ago, Monsieur, after you were there, and Cassion had
departed. It may have been that your being seen with me hastened the
plan. I know not, yet the two talked together long, and privately, and
when the Commissaire finally went away, Chevet called me in, and told
me what had been decided."

"That you were to marry that coxcomb?"

"Yes; he did not ask me if I would; it was a command. When I protested
my lack of love, saying even that I despised the man, he answered me
with a laugh, insisting it was his choice, not mine, and that love had
naught to do with such matters.