"And she is beautiful," said Christopher. "I have stood and wondered at her, with not a word to say. And she is learned in the plants," with enthusiasm; "she knows the flowers of the roadsides and fields, both by name and by sight. Not our flowers, of course," regretfully, "but then in France they must have many that are rich in fine properties. She was but a child when her interest in nature began," said the little apothecary. "She'd ramble the fields and wade in the streams with her uncle, who was a botanist and who lived in very pleasant parts. Her telling me this made me think of you," said Christopher, "and of how you'd journey along with me all through the hot day, seeking coralroot in the woods, about the feet of the trees, and devil's-bit in the meadows, and spotted alder in the low, thick-grown places. She laughed a deal at some of your pranks and wished she had been with us." "You did not tell her my name?" said Anthony. "I did afterwards," said Christopher, and he fell to rubbing his smooth crown in a troubled way. "And what did she say?" "Nothing," said the little apothecary. "But, indeed, she spoke little more of anything after that; and then she went away." Anthony sat in silence for a time, and Christopher watched his face with much concern. Then the sound of footsteps was once more heard on the stairs beyond the wall--voices, and a loud thumping that made the windows shake. "It is a chest being brought down," said the apothecary, listening. "Can it be that they are going on a journey? No coaches start until early morning." They heard the chest tumbled out through the door, and the crash of it, as it was thrown into a vehicle; there was much rapid talk and a woman's sobs. "The father is going away," said Christopher; "and the daughter is in tears." There were hurried good-byes in French, called out amid the rolling of wheels, the door shut, and footsteps went up the stairs. Anthony and the little apothecary looked at each other, for the steps were heavy and stumbling. "That is the father," said Christopher. "I know his foot. It is the girl, then, who has gone away." "It would seem so," said Anthony. "And the chest and the tears at parting tell of a long journey," said the apothecary. "And it must be an urgent one, to be undertaken at this hour." Anthony said little; it was almost eleven by the clock on the apothecary's wall, and he arose to go. "You are in low spirits," said Christopher. "My star is swinging downward, I fear," said Anthony, with the ghost of a smile. "But when it is at its lowest, Christopher, it will begin to curve upward." "If you knew her better," said Christopher, his hand on Anthony's sleeve; "or if she knew you better--" "She has shown plainly enough that she has no desire for that," said Anthony. "Good night." "Good night," said Christopher Dent.