‘Armand,’ I said tremblingly, ‘I must go with you to Algiers—because I don’t pronounce French half as well yet as you would wish to hear me do it, you know!’ And then I put my head down in my hands and burst into tears, from sheer excess of happiness. I shall not write down here how he soothed me. Were I not my own biographer I might be able to tell it, but from the moment Armand said he loved me, our affection has been too sacred a thing for me to make public. In half an hour we were still sitting on that grass, chatting away as if we had been engaged for years, and making all sorts of plans for the future. I confided to him my money matters and Mr. Lovett’s strange dealings with me regarding them, and he told me how much his card transactions with the reverend gentleman had got him into debt, and how he proposed to liquidate it so that we might start free when we were married. And we mutually agreed not to say a word of what had passed between us that morning, until after Mr. Warrington’s visit had been paid to St. Pucelle, and my affairs with my guardian set straight again. ‘Oh, how charming it was sitting in that lovely sunlight, and talking of the happy days to come! Algiers no longer seemed a horrid desert, situated a thousand leagues away from St. Pucelle. Our love had drawn it closer, and peopled it with pleasant forms and faces, until it looked like fairyland! I had but one regret amidst my pleasure: that my dear mother had not lived to see it! Bear witness for me, best beloved of parents, that you were not forgotten in your lonely grave in Norwood at that most ecstatic moment of my existence, for the tears ran down my cheeks as I recalled your love for me, and I told Armand what he had lost in never knowing it.’ ‘I will be thy mother and thy father and thy everything to thee, _chérie_,’ he answered, with the sweet _tu-toy_ that sounded like music in my ears; ‘only let me wipe away those tears, and see my Baronne smile again!’ It was difficult to remain subject to any melancholy long, whilst under the influence of Armand’s new-born happiness. His face positively beamed with joy. I had never caught even a glimpse of such an expression on his countenance before. ‘I let thee go, my Hilde!’ he said, when I had persuaded him that after four hours’ absence from the house I ran the risk of being questioned as to how I had spent my time, ‘but I shall count the moments till we meet again.’ ‘But thou wilt never feel lonely now, Armand,’ I replied. ‘Thou wilt look forward to the future we shall spend hand-in-hand.’ ‘I shall look forward to the time, my friend, when the angel who watches over me shall fold her wings upon my heart,’ he answered. It is very nice to be called an angel! I almost believed I was one by the time we got back to the house. But we had to walk with the utmost propriety through the town—at least three feet apart—and to bow to each other most politely as we parted at the door.