to me very possible
that the very singularity of such an address might captivate her, and
give you a decided advantage over lovers who pressed their suit in
hackneyed, stereotyped phrases."

"You think so?"

"I should not be surprised if such were the case, because Bertha has a
decided touch of eccentricity in her character."

"If I only dared to think that she had ever given me the faintest
evidence of favorable regard!"

"When she sees you embarrassed and hesitating, does she not always
finish your sentences?"

"Is it pos--pos--pos--" stammered Gaston.

"Possible?" said Madeleine. "Yes, I have observed that she invariably
does so if she imagines herself unnoticed. I have besides remarked a
certain expression on her transparent countenance when we talked of you,
and she has dropped a word, now and then,"--

"What--what--what words? But no, you are mocking me cruelly! It cannot
be that she ever thinks of me! I have too powerful a rival."

"A rival! what rival?" asked Madeleine, in genuine astonishment.

"The Viscount Maurice."

The silken thread snapped in Madeleine's hand.

"You have broken the thread," remarked M. de Bois; "I hope it was not
owing to my awkward hold--old--olding."

"No, no," answered Madeleine, hurriedly, and taking the skein out of his
hand, but tangling it inextricably as she tried to draw out the threads.

"You--you--you--think my cousin Maurice loves Bertha?" she asked, hardly
aware of the pointedness of her own question.

"I do not exactly say _that_; but how will it be possible for him to
help loving her? Good gracious, Mademoiselle Madeleine! what have I said
to affect you? How pale you have become!"

Madeleine struggled to appear composed, but the hands that held the
snarled skein trembled, and no effort of will could force the retreating
blood back to her face.

"Nothing--you have said nothing,--you are quite right, I--I--I dare
say."

"Why, you are just as troubled and embarrassed as I was just now."

"I? nonsense! I'm--I'm--I'm only--only--"

"And you stammer,--you actually stammer almost as badly as I do!"
exclaimed Gaston, in exultation. "Ah, Mademoiselle Madeleine! I have
betrayed to you _my_ secret,--you have discovered _yours_ to me!"

"Monsieur de Bois, I implore you, do not speak another word on this
subject! Enough that, if _I had a secret_, there is no one in the world
to whom I would sooner confide it."

"Why, then, do you now wish to hide from me the pr