"Now, Uncle Derrick, don't dare to talk like that! This is my home and I love it, and Aunt Cecily has no claim upon me. She owns herself that she did nothing for me when I was a child. I wanted care and attention then, but I got it from you and not from her. Her letter makes me feel bitter against her. I'm to go to minister to her wants. I shall have no life of my own, but will have to be an unpaid servant in her house. That is what Mathilde was." "No, no, as a daughter, it was her duty to be with her mother and help her." "Well, now she can get a companion and pay her. She's very well off, is she not?" "I don't think so. We wanted her to get rid of the Château years ago when her husband died, but she would not. Indeed, I think she cannot, under the terms of his will. It is to go to a son of her husband's. She was the second wife, and, strangely enough, his first wife was American, not French. She wrote to me a few weeks ago mentioning him, and I gathered that he has lately appeared in her neighbourhood, and she is very angry because he won't live with her in the Château." "Then she has somebody belonging to her? I did not know she had." "You must write to her at once, Adrienne. She will be expecting you. Tell her about your uncle's accident and she will understand." So Adrienne moved across to the big writing-table, and there and then composed a very nice refusal of her aunt's invitation. As she sealed and stamped it, she brought down her slender fist upon it with some force. "There! That's my final word to her. I have suggested that she should get a companion." She came across to the fire, and threw herself into the big easy-chair opposite her uncle. She looked at him affectionately: "I believe you're missing your game of chess. Now, aren't you? Will you let me play with you and I dare say to-morrow evening Uncle Tom will be well enough to play himself." "I think we might have a game," said the Admiral with alacrity; "you can play very well if you like, Adrienne." And Adrienne did, throwing her whole heart and soul into the contest, and casting all thoughts of her aunt to the winds. It was only when she went to bed that she murmured to herself: "Fate has been kind. I am no longer hesitating between cross-ways, but cheerfully trudging along in the sunshine, and in the path which I love." She went to visit the invalid just before breakfast the next day. She found him irritable. "What kind of a night have I had? The devil of a night, and I've been swearing like a trooper all through! That fool of a Drake snored—yes, he snored like a bull! Out of my room he shall go to-night. He fussed himself in, but what good did he do me? My knee feels as big as a Christmas pudding. I wanted sleep and relief from pain. Why didn't that young jackass give me an opiate to make me sleep? What's the weather like?"