t is nearly
always a mistake to marry a foreigner. It seems a cruel thing to say,
but I never felt to poor Louis as I felt to the noble Englishman who has
done me so great an honour.'

Her eyes were full of tears. Mrs. Fordyce saw that she was deeply moved.

'I do not know what he sees in me. He is so handsome, so noble, and so
rich, he might marry whom he willed. He has no relatives to be angry
over it; and he says, if it pleases me, we can buy a place in Scotland,
on the very shores of the Gairloch. Think of that, Isabel; think of your
exiled Henrietta returning to _that_. God is too good, and I am too
happy.'

She bent her head and wept, and these tears betrayed what her exile had
been to the Scotchwoman's heart. Mrs. Fordyce was scarcely less moved.
It was a pathetic and beautiful romance.

The Scotch travellers spent a happy week in the old Flemish town; and
Gladys, who had the artist's quick eye for beauty of colour and
picturesqueness of detail, carried away with her many little 'bits,' to
be finished and perfected at home.

Madame Bonnemain journeyed with them to Brussels many times, but
declined their invitation to accompany them to Paris. They would all
meet, she said, after a certain happy event was over, in the dear land
over the sea.

George Fordyce alone joined them in Paris, and, somewhat to his aunt's
distress, constituted himself at once as cavalier to Gladys. Often, very
often, the good lady was on the point of speaking plainly to him, but,
remembering her husband's warning, decided to let matters take their
course. She watched Gladys narrowly, however, but could discover nothing
in her demeanour but a frank kindliness, almost such as she might have
displayed towards a brother. George Fordyce, who had really learned to
care for the girl, felt that the close companionship of these days in
Paris had not advanced his cause. He did not know that her mind was so
engrossed by great plans and high ideals for the life of the coming
winter that she had no time to bestow on nearer interests. He was a
prudent youth, and decided to bide his time.

After a month's pleasant loitering abroad, they returned to London.
George took his cousins home, and Mrs. Fordyce went with Gladys into
Lincolnshire.

And they found the fen village as of yore, in no wise changed, except
that a few new graves had been added to the little churchyard. The
little spinster still abode in her dainty cottage, not much changed,
exce