sking her in a whisper: "So
you would be glad if he came to live with us?"

The question seemed to bring no surprise to Jeanne. She was doubtless
pondering over this very matter. She slowly nodded her head.

"But you know," said her mother, "he would be always beside us--night
and day, at table--everywhere!"

A great trouble dawned in the clear depths of the child's eyes. She
nestled her cheek against her mother's shoulder, kissed her neck, and
finally, with a quiver, whispered in her ear: "Mamma, would he kiss
you?"

A crimson flush rose to Helene's brow. In her first surprise she was
at a loss to answer, but at last she murmured: "He would be the same
as your father, my darling!"

Then Jeanne's little arms tightened their hold, and she burst into
loud and grievous sobbing. "Oh! no, no!" she cried chokingly. "I don't
want it then! Oh! mamma, do please tell him I don't. Go and tell him I
won't have it!"

She gasped, and threw herself on her mother's bosom, covering her with
tears and kisses. Helene did her utmost to appease her, assuring her
she would make it all right; but Jeanne was bent on having a definite
answer at once.

"Oh! say no! say no, darling mother! You know it would kill me. Never!
Oh, never! Eh?"

"Well, I'll promise it will never be. Now, be good and lie down."

For some minutes longer the child, speechless with emotion, clasped
her mother in her arms, as though powerless to tear herself away, and
intent on guarding her against all who might seek to take her from
her. After some time Helene was able to put her to bed; but for a part
of the night she had to watch beside her. Jeanne would start violently
in her sleep, and every half-hour her eyes would open to make sure of
her mother's presence, and then she would doze off again, with her
lips pressed to Helene's hand.

CHAPTER VIII.

It was a month of exquisite mildness. The April sun had draped the
garden in tender green, light and delicate as lace. Twining around the
railing were the slender shoots of the lush clematis, while the
budding honeysuckle filled the air with its sweet, almost sugary
perfume. On both sides of the trim and close-shaven lawn red geraniums
and white stocks gave the flower beds a glow of color; and at the end
of the garden the clustering elms, hiding the adjacent houses, reared
the green drapery of their branches, whose little leaves trembled with
the least breath of air.

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