I suppose my words drowned the reply to the woman’s question, for she continued rapidly: ‘Lies, as usual! I know you have it! I saw you borrow one hundred and twenty-five francs from Monsieur Charteris this morning. It cannot be gone already. _Pauvre homme!_ he has not yet found out what it is to lend money to those that will never return it!’ ‘_Tais toi!_’ responded the voice of my guardian; ‘mind your own business. He will be repaid, never fear!’ ‘Ah! yes, certainly, when the Lord comes to judgment,’ replied Madame, sarcastically. Ange had not appeared to hear the first two sentences as she lay with her head upon my knee, her eyes closed and the deep crimson mantling on her cheek. But when her father’s voice was heard in answer, I watched her colour fade to a dull white, and she opened her eyes and knit her brows as though she were listening with all her soul. ‘Hilda!’ she inquired eagerly, ‘is that papa’s voice?’ ‘Yes, Ange, I think so.’ ‘What was he saying?’ ‘I don’t know. I didn’t hear.’ She raised herself and looked at me in a scared, half-comprehending manner. ‘You are deceiving me, Hilda! You must have heard! What is it? What does it mean? Did Marmoret say that papa owed Mr. Charteris money?’ I remembered my promise to Tessie, and resolved that Ange should learn the truth through any lips but mine. ‘I know nothing about it, Ange,’ I repeated firmly; ‘you heard what passed just as well as I did. And if it were the case,’ I added, with beautiful inconsistency, ‘it is no such great matter. Men borrow money of one another constantly.’ ‘_It is no such great matter!_’ she repeated slowly; ‘no matter that dear papa should be so poor as to be obliged to borrow of Mr. Charteris: papa, who holds such strict views on all money matters that he thinks people should lie down and starve sooner than beg or borrow of their friends. Oh! we must be very poor indeed—much poorer than I have ever dreamed of—if papa has been obliged to do this thing.’ I saw the proud blood rush back again to her face, though only for a moment, and thought, with a pang, what a blow the disclosure of the truth, when it came, would be to her! At that moment the bedroom door opened, and Tessie appeared. The sight of her sister seemed to rouse Ange to action, for she leapt to her feet and rushed into her arms, crying: ‘Tessie! Tessie! tell the truth. Does papa owe money to Mr. Charteris?’ Tessie looked over the child’s shoulder at me with a reproachful air, which I read too well. ‘You wrong me,’ I said, in answer; ‘I am not the delinquent. Ange has overheard your father and Madame squabbling in the courtyard.’ At these words Tessie’s face became as white as the ‘little maid’s.’ ‘Why did I not tell Madame I was going to carry Ange’s basket to the poor?’ she said, with a self-condemnatory air. I knew what she meant. That if Madame had known that _petite_ Ange was anywhere within hearing, she would have placed some restraint upon her unruly tongue.