ystery. Helene directed her steps towards the
elm beneath which she had sat in April.

"But I don't wish her to stay here," said she. "It is shady and
coldish."

"Well, well, you will see in a minute," answered the maid.

Three steps farther on they emerged from the seeming forest, and, in
the midst of the leafy profusion they found the sun's golden rays
streaming on the lawn, warm and still as in a woodland clearing. As
they looked up they saw the branches standing out against the blue of
the sky with the delicacy of guipure. The tea-roses on the huge bush,
faint in the heat, dropped slumberously from their stems. The
flower-beds were full of red and white asters, looking with their
old-world air like blossoms woven in some ancient tapestry.

"Now you'll see," said Rosalie. "I'm going to put her all right
myself."

She had folded and placed the wrap on the edge of a walk, where the
shadow came to an end. Here she made Jeanne sit down, covering her
shoulders with a shawl, and bidding her stretch out her little legs.
In this fashion the shade fell on the child's head, while her feet lay
in the sunshine.

"Are you all right, my darling?" Helene asked.

"Oh, yes," was her answer. "I don't feel cold a bit, you know. I
almost think I am sweltering before a big fire. Ah! how well one can
breathe! How pleasant it is!"

Thereupon Helene, whose eyes had turned uneasily towards the closed
window-shutters of the house, expressed her intention of returning
upstairs for a little while, and loaded Rosalie with a variety of
injunctions. She would have to watch the sun; she was not to leave
Jeanne there for more than half an hour; and she must not lose sight
of her for a moment.

"Don't be alarmed, mamma," exclaimed the child, with a laugh. "There
are no carriages to pass along here."

Left to amuse herself, she gathered a handful of gravel from the path
at her side, and took pleasure in letting it fall from her clasped
hands like a shower of rain. Zephyrin meantime was raking. On catching
sight of madame and her daughter he had slipped on his great-coat,
which he had previously hung from the branch of a tree; and in token
of respect had stood stock-still, with his rake idle in his hand.
Throughout Jeanne's illness he had come every Sunday as usual; but so
great had been the caution with which he had slipped into the kitchen,
that Helene would scarcely have dreamt of his presence had not Rosalie
on each occasion been depu