her in Lady Myrtle's
regard.

It seemed like an encouragement--an endorsement of this secretly
registered vow--when Lady Myrtle spoke again.

'Does it make you happy, dear child, to hear what I have resolved to do?
I hope so; for your feelings, your self-blame so honestly avowed,
though I think you exaggerate the need of it, have helped to influence
me. I know how bitter such self-blame may grow to be, and my darling
Jacinth, I want to feel, when I come to die, that at least I have
brought nothing but good into _your_ young life.'

'Dear Lady Myrtle,' said Jacinth, 'what you tell me makes me happier
than I can express; far, far happier than I have deserved to be.'

* * * * *

They went the next day. Lady Myrtle's cold was better, and for the
season, the weather was wonderfully mild. Jacinth had hesitated about
accompanying her old friend, but Lady Myrtle insisted upon her doing so.

'It will make it far easier and less constrained for me,' she said, 'and
considering everything it seems to me only natural.'

They had luncheon early, and set off immediately after. Less than half
an hour's drive brought them to the picturesque little village, which
was in fact scarcely more than a suburb of the town of Basse.

'Villa Malmaison' was the direction, and soon the coachman drew up at a
gate opening on to the road, for there was no drive up to the house. The
footman was preparing to enter, but when he came round for his
instructions, Lady Myrtle stopped him.

'No,' she said, 'you can wait here. We will get out at once.--I have a
fancy,' she said to Jacinth, 'for going straight up to the house without
being announced.'

It was a small and simple place; a balcony ran round the ground floor,
and there in a long chair--a deck chair--a gentleman was half lying,
half sitting, for the day was mild, and the house had a south exposure.
At the sound of their slow footsteps--for Lady Myrtle was feebler than
of yore--he looked up, then rose courteously, and came forward to meet
them. He was a tall thin man with gray hair, and with evident traces of
delicate health and suffering upon him, and he walked lame. But his
smile was both bright and sweet; his keen dark eyes not unlike Lady
Myrtle's own.

'Can I'----he began, for the first instant's glance revealed to him that
the new-comers were English, but a sort of exclamation from Lady Myrtle
arrested him.

'Jacinth,' she had just whispered, and fo