t she had
a horror of taking the responsibility, of "meddling with other people's
affairs," even in the hope of bringing about some happy issue.

Ronald's impulses were precisely opposite to his mother's. He had an
internal delight in swaying, in influencing, in bending circumstances to
his will, in making all the crooked paths straight and righting all the
wrongs of mankind. He was always ready to form projects (his father
would say in a Quixotic style) and carry them into execution, to benefit
his friends. He was deterred by no constitutional timidity, and the rash
impulsiveness of youth looks only to happy results, and is seldom curbed
by the reflection of possible evil. Ronald would have served Maurice at
all hazards, and by all means in his power, or _out of his power_. He
was expressing to his mother the chagrin he felt at the sad position of
his friend, and his fear that it would throw a blight over his energies,
when the latter remarked,--

"I think I have made a discovery which concerns Maurice, though I do not
see how it can benefit him. Yet I am sure I know a secret which he would
give almost his existence to learn."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Ronald. "Tell him then at once!"

"I cannot make up my mind that it would tend to any good result. It
would be better, I think, not to touch upon the subject at all; let
events take their natural course."

"We should build no houses, we should write no books, and paint no
pictures, if we adopted that doctrine," answered Ronald. "At least, tell
me what you have learned."

"I think I know," replied Mrs. Walton, "whom Madeleine loves."

"Is it possible?"

"And that is Maurice himself!"

Mrs. Walton went through the whole train of reasoning by which she had
arrived at her conclusion; and Ronald was only too well pleased to be
convinced.

"But, my dear, impetuous boy," said she, as she looked upon his glowing
face, "what good to Maurice can grow out of this?"

"Let us plant the seed and give it some good chance to grow," returned
Ronald, eagerly. "Here is Maurice himself. The first step is to tell
him"--

Maurice entered in time to hear the last words, and took them up.

"You can hardly tell him anything sadder than he comes to tell you. In a
week we must bid each other adieu; my grandmother has resolved to return
to Brittany without further delay."

"I should be more deeply moved by that news," replied Ronald, "did I not
think that I had some intelligence to com