"Phemie dear, it was impertinent of me, but Godfrey and I have grown up together, and he does deserve a wife who will do what I cannot do, love and adore him. I can't tell you how happy I shall be. Two of my greatest friends coming together like this!" She rode home assuring herself that she was deeply content, and yet in the bottom of her heart there was rather a lonely deserted feeling, as if all her friends were leaving her—that she would no longer be necessary to them. "Well, I have Uncle Derrick, nothing will touch our love," she said to herself, and she went back to him with sunshine in her eyes and smile. Two or three weeks passed. Adrienne devoted herself to her uncle; she got out her old songs and sang them to him in the evenings, the time of day in which they most missed the General; she rode out with him, and brought her work into the library when he was poring over his books and pedigrees. And all the time her thoughts were in the little French village, wondering if Bertha were getting tired of the incessant demands made upon her time, whether Agatha and she held long conversations together, whether Gaspard was keeping the rose-beds weeded, whether the small vineyards on the sloping hill were showing signs of a good vintage, and whether the Bouveries were really making preparation for taking possession Of the Château. At last she heard from Bertha that her aunt was going to make her usual autumn move into her Orleans flat. "She is playing a kind of game with herself and everyone else," wrote Bertha, "by insisting that this is her usual move, and that she will be returning in the spring, but I happen to know that Monsieur Bouverie has promised her to wait to take possession till she has gone, and that he means to move in directly she has done so. She is writing to you to implore you to come back and help her with the move. She will not trust me as she trusts you. Do you not think you could come for a week or two? You need not go to Orleans with her. I believe she will be happy there. And I really cannot stay much longer. I have heard from an invalid cousin of mine who wants me to go to the Riviera with her the end of September. If I do so, I shall have to be shutting up my cottage and getting rid of my bits of furniture. I do not care to live there now. But I must justify my existence by being of some use to someone, so think my cousin's proposal fits in." The following day Adrienne had the usual hysterical effusion from her aunt, and after reading over both these letters to her uncle, he advised her to go over for a week or two. "And don't be miserable, my dear child, over that old Château, but be thankful that your aunt will no longer have such an incubus."