Our little offerings had already been presented and duly thanked for. Tessie’s new muslin apron adorned her slender waist; at her right hand lay a book her father had bought for her in Rille, and my silver earrings flashed and sparkled in her ears. To say that Ange was pleased with my thought of her is to say too little. She was a true woman, and delighted in the adornment of her beauty as she delighted in flowers and birds and children and all the other gifts of heaven. She had coloured to her very eyes with innocent pleasure when I first put the ornaments in her hand, and had stood for ten minutes before the glass, shaking and nodding her graceful little head, in order to see them sparkle. Mr. Lovett, too, whose censure for extravagance I had feared, seemed almost as gratified as the child herself at the manner in which the dangling silver things became her, and thanked me more than once for giving her so handsome a present, though he never thought of asking me how I had been able to pay the sum they had cost. Tessie alone appeared to be annoyed at my disregarding her advice, and indifferent to her sister’s joy in her new possessions. Was she jealous, I thought, because I was in a position to make Ange a more valuable gift than herself? Surely Tessie, with her sweet good-nature and noble heart, could never stoop to the indulgence of so mean a feeling as that? Yet she left me quite unable otherwise to account for her silence and grave looks whenever the silver earrings were brought beneath her notice. The post only arrived once a day at St. Pucelle, and whilst we were in the middle of breakfast, Monsieur le Facteur, as Madame Marmoret politely designated him, rapped sharply with his knuckles on the window-shutter and delivered a letter to Ange through the open casement. It was for Mr. Lovett, and evidently contained agreeable news, for as he read it he exclaimed: ‘Look here, girls!’ which made Tessie and Ange fly to peruse its contents over their father’s shoulder, when all three faces beamed with pleasure and anticipation. ‘On your birthday, too, Ange! This is quite a coincidence,’ said my guardian presently; ‘and we must have a little fête in consequence. My dear Hilda, it is time I told you——’ ‘No, no, papa!’ cried Ange, clapping her hand before his mouth. ‘Don’t tell her yet. Let it be a surprise. It will be such a tremendous one! and you will spoil it all if you say a word beforehand.’ ‘Don’t make it too great a surprise, my little maid, or it may have a serious effect upon poor Hilda.’ ‘Oh, papa, how funny you are! As if anything _nice_ could hurt one! And Tessie and I have agreed that this change is to be a very, _very_ nice one indeed!’ ‘If it is the solution of the mystery that has occupied you all for the last few days,’ I interposed, ‘you need not be afraid of the _dénouement_ proving fatal to me, for I have all but guessed it for myself.’ ‘What is it then, Hilda?’ demanded Ange.