she
seemed to say: "I am waiting. I am prepared to be told things--that is,
useful things--things that help one to believe without the risk of too
much thinking."

"It's from that young foreigner," he said; and went on reading to
himself.

I have eyes, and here I am; I have a nose 'pour, flairer le humbug'.
I see that amongst the value of things nothing is the equal of "free
thought." Everything else they can take from me, 'on ne pent pas m'oter
cela'! I see no future for me here, and certainly should have departed
long ago if I had had the money, but, as I have already told you, all
that I can do barely suffices to procure me 'de quoi vivre'. 'Je me sens
ecceuye'. Do not pay too much attention to my Jeremiads; you know what a
pessimist I am. 'Je ne perds pas courage'.

Hoping that you are well, and in the cordial pressing of your hand, I
subscribe myself,

Your very devoted

LOUIS FERRAND.

He rode with the letter open in his hand, frowning at the curious
turmoil which Ferrand excited in his heart. It was as though this
foreign vagrant twanged within him a neglected string, which gave forth
moans of a mutiny.

"What does he say?" Antonia asked.

Should he show it to her? If he might not, what should he do when they
were married?

"I don't quite know," he said at last; "it 's not particularly
cheering."'

"What is he like, Dick--I mean, to look at? Like a gentleman, or what?"

Shelton stifled a desire to laugh.

"He looks very well in a frock-coat," he replied; "his father was a wine
merchant."

Antonia flicked her whip against her skirt.

"Of course," she murmured, "I don't want to hear if there's anything I
ought not."

But instead of soothing Shelton, these words had just the opposite
effect. His conception of the ideal wife was not that of one from whom
the half of life must be excluded.

"It's only," he stammered again, "that it's not cheerful."

"Oh, all right!" she cried, and, touching her horse, flew off in front.
"I hate dismal things."

Shelton bit his lips. It was not his fault that half the world was dark.
He knew her words were loosed against himself, and, as always at a sign
of her displeasure, was afraid. He galloped after her on the scorched
turf.

"What is it?" he said. "You 're angry with me!"

"Oh no!"

"Darling, I can't help it if things are n't cheerful. We have eyes," he
added, quoting from the letter.

Antonia did not look at him; but touched her horse again.