V

A notice posted the following day to the effect that for some time the
reading-room would be closed one day in the week for repairs, gave
Harrison an excuse for insisting on weekly repetitions of what he
called their historical picnics.

Miss Midland let herself be urged into these with a half-fearful
pleasure which struck the young American as pathetic. "Anybody can see
she's had mighty few good times in _her_ life," he told himself. They
"did" Fontainebleau,[129-1] Pierrefonds,[129-2] Vincennes,[129-3] and
Chantilly[129-4]--this last expedition coming in the first week of May,
ten days before Miss Midland was to leave Paris. They were again
favored by wonderfully fine spring weather, so warm that the girl
appeared in a light-colored cotton gown and a straw hat which, as her
friend told her, with the familiarity born of a month of almost
uninterrupted common life, made her look "for all the world like a
picture."

After their usual conscientious and minute examination of the objects
of historical interest, they betook themselves with their lunch-basket
to a quiet corner of the park, by a clear little stream, on the other
side of which a pair of white swans were building a nest. It was very
still, and what faint breeze there was barely stirred the trees. The
English girl took off her hat, and the sunlight on her blonde hair
added another glory to the spring day.

They ate their lunch with few words, and afterward sat in what seemed
to the American the most comfortable and companionable of silences,
idly watching a peacock unfold the flashing splendor of his plumage
before the old gray fountain. "My! My! My!" he murmured finally. "Isn't
the world about the best place!"

The girl did not answer, and, glancing at her, he was startled to see
that her lips were quivering. "Why, Miss Midland!" he cried anxiously.
"Have you had bad news?"

She shook her head. "Nothing new."

"What's the matter?" he asked, coming around in front of her. "Perhaps
I can help you even if it's only to give some good advice."

She looked up at him with a sudden flash. "I suppose that, since you
are so much engaged, you think you would make a good father-confessor!"

"I don't see that that has anything to do with it," he said, sitting
down beside her, "but you can bank on me for doing anything I can."

"You don't see that that has anything to do with it," she broke in
sharply, with the evident intention of wounding him, "because