“You turn words well--so well that I could almost be afraid of your skill. Shall we go out on the terrace? The evening air is lovely. Tell me,” she said, as they walked, “how came you to be playing trespasser so opportunely to-day in Malincourt. It has puzzled me.” “If I tell the truth, I was lurking in the wood, hoping to catch a sight of you again.” “You had learnt who this lady of your vow was by that time, then?” “Else I had not been in Malincourt,” he answered, without thinking. She glanced at him quickly, her face wrinkled with this fresh puzzle. “Is not that a worse puzzle?” she asked. “Knowing who I was, why not have come straight to the maison?” “Of course, I might have done so,” he replied. He saw the slip then clearly enough, and tried to cover it with a laugh. “Perhaps I ought to have come.” “But you did not. Why? I do not mind that you did not, but why should you choose so strange a course?” “What answer can I give, save it was a whim?” “You would have seen me sooner had you come and would not have been one whit less welcome; and would in truth have saved me some hours of anxiety. Do you know that, yesterday, I sent high and low in search of you; and only this morning my poor Denys went riding out to Beaucamp on a veritable wild-goose chase to find you?” Gerard smiled. “Did you at the time know who I was?” he asked. “Should I have sent away from Morvaix to find you, had I known?” “Then you, too, were not without interest in a stranger?” “It is not a fair hit,” she laughed. “I would not have had even a stranger think me an ingrate for such service.” “Then it was merely to thank me, you wished.” “Gerard!” and she let her eyes drop to the ground. “I should like to think that before you heard my name to-day, you----” He commenced in great earnestness, but checked himself again. “Some day I will tell you,” she replied in a low tone, after a pause; and then, in a tone as low, he asked-- “And what if I had been other than Gerard de Cobalt?” “Thank God, it was not so,” she cried, with a little shiver and a sigh. “Why, Gabrielle?” He had his own strong reason for pressing the question. For a time she kept her head bowed and remained silent; but then raising her eyes to him frankly and trustfully she said-- “I think I should like to tell you. You will not think shame of me. I fear I could never have been Gerard de Cobalt’s wife. All night I wrestled with the problem, and prayed fervently for strength to do my duty, and keep the pledge made for me by my parents. But when I knew Gerard de Cobalt would come to-day, I dreaded to meet him. Can you not guess why?” She was all blushes and sweetness as the faltered confession dropped from her lips. “You cannot think what this means to me,” he answered with passion. “But some day you will understand.”