amed of. If she seemed older, graver, sadder perhaps,
the change was natural to one who had passed through trials so sordid
and so searching. A month of marriage, a month of England, would restore
all her youth and freshness.

Nevertheless he was glad to be alone with Madame de Melcourt. It was the
moment he had waited for, the moment of paying some fitting tribute to
her generosity. He had said little of it hitherto, not wanting, as he
put it, "to drag it in by the hair of its head." He knew an opportunity
would arise; and it had arisen.

It was the sort of thing he could have done better had he not been
haunted by the Englishman's fear of being over-demonstrative. He was
easily capable of turning a nice little speech. Apart from the fear of
transgressing the canons of negative good form he would have enjoyed
turning one. As it was, he assumed a stammer and a drawl, jerking out a
few inarticulate phrases of which the lady could distinguish only "so
awfully good of you" and "never forget your jolly kindness." This being
masculine, soldier-like, and British, he was hurt to notice an amused
smile on the Marquise's lips. He could have sworn that she felt the
speech inadequate to the occasion. She would probably have liked it
better had it been garnished with American flourishes or French
ornamentation. "She's taking me for a jolly ass," he said to himself,
and reddened hotly.

In contrast to his deliberate insufficiency the old lady's thin voice
was silvery and precise. Out of some bit of obscure wilfulness, roused
by his being an Englishman, she accentuated her Parisian affectations.

"I'm very much delighted, Col-on-el," she said, giving the military
title its three distinct French syllables, "but you must not think me
better than I am. I'm very fond of my niece--and of her father. After
all, they stand nearer to me than any one else in the world. They're all
I've got of my very own. In any case, they should have had the money
some day--when I--that is, I'd made my will n'est-ce pas? But what
matters a little sooner or a little later? And I want my niece to be
happy. I want a great many things; but when I've sifted them all, I
think I want that more than anything else."

Ashley bowed. "We shall always feel greatly indebted--" he began,
endeavoring to be more elegant than in his words of a few minutes
earlier.

"I want her to be happy, Col-on-el. She deserves it. She's a noble
creature, with a heart of gold and a s