nd march boldly up to the house
and ask for an interview? Anxious as he was to see her, he had no
desire to thrust his presence upon her if it was not wanted. He knew
that she would be the first to resent that, and yet he felt he _must_
see her, happen what might. As soon as breakfast was finished he put
on his hat and set out for a stroll. The clouds of the previous night
had departed, the sky was blue, and the breeze fresh and invigorating.
Many a bright eye and captivating glance was thrown at the healthy,
stalwart young Englishman, who carried himself as if fatigue were a
thing unknown to him. Then, suddenly, he found himself face to face
with Katherine Petrovitch!

He lifted his hat mechanically, but for a moment he stood rooted to the
spot with surprise, not knowing what to say or do. Great as was his
astonishment, however, hers was infinitely greater. She stood before
him, her colour coming and going, and with a frightened look in her
eyes.

"Mr. Browne, what does this mean?" she asked, with a little catch of
the breath. "You are the last person I expected to see in Paris."

"I was called over here on important business," he replied, with
unblushing mendacity; and as he said it he watched her face, and found
it more troubled than he had ever yet seen it. "But why, even if we
are surprised to see each other, should we remain standing here?" he
continued, for want of something better to say. "May I not walk a
short distance with you?"

"If you wish it," she replied, but with no great display of
graciousness. It was very plain that she did not attach very much
credence to his excuse, and it was equally certain that she was
inclined to resent it. Nothing was said on the latter point, however,
and they strolled along the pavement together, he wondering how he
could best set himself right with her, and she combating a feeling of
impending calamity, and at the same time trying to convince herself
that she was extremely angry with him, not only for meeting her, but
for being in Paris at all. It was not until they reached the Rue des
Tuileries that Browne spoke.

"May we not go into the Gardens?" he asked a little nervously. "I
always think that the children one sees there are the sweetest in
Europe."

"If you wish," Katherine replied coldly. "I shall not be able to stay
very long, however, as Madame Bernstein will be expecting me."

Browne felt inclined to anathematise Madame Bernstein, as he had