o the avenue of
the Promenade a Sept Heures. It was darker still there, only a
rare lamp slanting here and there a long gleam of light across
the wet path. Horace began to be afraid that he should lose
her altogether, but she suddenly stumbled and fell, and when
he came up to her, she was sitting all in a heap on the ground
at the foot of a tree, her face buried in her hands, her frame
shaking with sobs.

"Madelon," said Horace, stooping down, and trying to take her
hands; "my little Madelon, my poor little child!"

She jumped up when she heard his voice, and started away from
him.

"_Ne me touchez pas, je vous le defends_," she cried, "_ne me
touchez pas, je vous deteste--vous etes un cruel--un perfide!_"

She began to sob again, and dropped down once more upon the
ground, crouched upon the damp earth, strewn with dead fallen
leaves. Her hat had fallen off, and the rain came down upon
her uncovered head, wetting the short hair as it was blown
about by the wind, drenching her thin little cloak and old
black silk frock. A very pitiful sight as she sat there, a
desolate, homeless child, on this dark, wet autumn night, deaf
in her excess of childish rage to Horace's words, shaking him
off with wilful, passionate gestures whenever he touched her--a
very perplexing sight to the young man, who stood and watched
her, uncertain what to say or do next.

At last she grew a little quieter, and then he spoke to her in
a tone of authority:--

"You must get up, Madelon; you will get quite wet if you stay
here."

He took hold of her hand, and held it firmly when she tried to
loosen it, and at last she got up slowly. As she rose, she
became conscious of the wet and cold, and was completely
sobered as she stood shivering at Horace's side.

"My poor little Madelon!" he said, in the kind voice she
remembered from old times. "You are quite wet and so cold, we
must not stay here; tell me where you are going?"

"I don't know," said Madelon, beginning to cry again. Only an
hour ago she had been so full of joy and hope, with such a
bright future before her; and now the rain and wind were
beating in her face, above her the black sky, darkness all
around; where indeed was she going?

"But you have some friends here?" said Horace--"you are not
staying here all alone?"

"Yes, I am all alone," said Madelon, sobbing. "Oh! what shall
I do?--what shall I do?"

"Don't cry so, Madelon," said Graham, "my poor child, don't be
frighten