all the afternoon, and we have tea, at
the Pre Catalan and drive again until about seven, and then we come in
and dine, and I go to bed very early. Josiah is not strong enough yet
for late hours or theatres."

"It sounds supernaturally gay for Paris!" said Lord Bracondale; and then
he felt a brute when he saw the cloud in the blue eyes.

"No, it is not gay," she said, simply. "But the flowers are beautiful,
and the green trees and the chestnut blossoms and the fine air here, and
there is a little stream among the trees which laughs to itself as it
runs, and all these things say something to me."

He felt rebuked--rebuked and interested.

"I would like to see them all with you," he said.

That was one of his charms--directness. He did not insinuate often; he
stated facts.

"You would find it all much too monotonous," she answered. "You would
tire of them after the first time. And you could if you liked, too,
because I suppose you are free, being a man, and can choose your own
life," and she sighed unconsciously.

And there came to Hector Bracondale the picture of her life--sacrificed,
no doubt, to others' needs. He seemed to see the long years tied to
Josiah Brown, the cramping of her soul, the dreary desolation of it.
Then a tenderness came over him, a chivalrous tenderness unfelt by him
towards women now for many a long day.

"I wonder if I can choose my life," he said, and he looked into her
eyes.

"Why can you not?" She hesitated. "And may I ask you, too, what you do
with yourself here?"

He evaded the question; he suddenly realized that his days were not more
amusing than hers, although they were filled up with racing and varied
employments--while the thought of his nights sickened him.

"I think I am going to make an immense change and learn to take pleasure
in the running brooks," he said. "Will you help me?"

"I know so little, and you know so much," and her sweet eyes became soft
and dreamy. "I could not help you in any way, I fear."

"Yes, you could--you could teach me to see all things with fresh eyes.
You could open the door into a new world."

"Do you know," she said, irrelevantly, "Sarah--my eldest sister--Sarah
told me it was unwise ever to talk to strangers except in the
abstract--and here are you and I conversing about our own interests and
feelings--are not we foolish!" She laughed a little nervously.

"No, we are not foolish because we are not strangers--we never were--and
we never