ting my bread, and
that dreadful woman came out of the hotel."

"Is there no way of getting in?" said Graham, shaking the
gate.

"None, I am afraid," Madelon answered. "Stay, there used to be
a path that led round at the back across a little bridge into
the garden. Perhaps we might get in that way."

They were again disappointed; they found the path, and the
wooden bridge that crossed the stream, but another closed gate
prevented their entering the garden.

"This, however, becomes more and more interesting," said
Graham, after looking at the spot attentively. "Yes, this is
the very place, Madelon, where I first saw you with a doll in
your arms."

"Really!" she said.

"Yes, really; and then some one--your father, I think--called
you away."

They were silent for a minute, looking at the trees, the
shrubs, the grass growing all rough and tangled in the
deserted garden.

"We must go," Graham said at last; "it is getting late,
Madelon, and we have to drive back to Liege, remember, after
we have seen Jeanne-Marie."

They got into the carriage again, and drove on towards Le
Trooz, along the valley under the hills, all red and brown
with October woods, beside the river, gleaming between green
pastures in the low afternoon sun. They had arrived at Liege
the day before, and that morning was to have been devoted to
visiting the convent; but the convent was gone. On inquiry,
they learnt that the nuns had removed to another house ten
miles distant from Liege, and on the hills where the old farm-
house, the white, low-roofed convent had once stood so
peacefully, a great iron-foundry was smoking and spouting fire
day and night, covering field and garden with heaps of black
smouldering ashes.

"How places and things change!" said Madelon, as they drove
along; "we have had two disappointments to-day--shall we have a
third, I wonder? Supposing Jeanne-Marie should have gone to
live in another house? Ah! how glad I shall be to see her
again!--and she will be pleased to see me, I know."

As she spoke, the scattered houses, the church, the white
cottages of Le Trooz came in sight. Madelon checked the driver
as they approached the little restaurant, the first house in
the village, and she and Graham got out of the carriage. The
bench still stood before the door, the pigeons were flying
about, and the bee-hives were on their stand, but the blue
board was gone from the white wall, and the place had a
deserted look.

"It i