“This was Eugenie’s reply, and after that Anna heard no more from her, but supposed her happy as a highly respectable woman and keeper of lodgers.” The mention of Eugenie’s _cafe_ was too much for Hal and myself in our exhausted condition, and, ringing the bell, we ordered _cafe_ for two in our apartments, and while we were sipping the delicious beverage, I said to my companion: “Hal, you have told a splendid story, but I must hear a little more. You were in love with Anna Strong before she married Haverleigh. Did the love come back after he was dead?” Hal made no answer for a moment, then he said: “I will not tell you another word to-day; nor have I time. We must see a little of Marseilles, and to-night be off for Nice.” “And not stop at Cannes?” I asked, and he replied: “No, not stop at Cannes—a stupid place, full of English. Nice is the spot in all the world for me.” So we went straight to Nice, and were quartered at the Grand Hotel, and our rooms opened upon the spacious garden, where, looking from my window in the morning, I saw several groups of people, one of which attracted my attention at once. A beautiful boy of three years old was running up and down a graveled walk, followed by a smart-looking French maid, who always brought him back to two ladies sitting on a bench under the trees. One lady was old and draped in black, but the other was young, and oh, so fair in her morning-dress of white, with a blue ribbon in her wavy hair. There were diamonds and costly gems sparkling on her hands, and everything about her betokened the lady of wealth and culture. “Who is she, I wonder?” I was saying to myself, when I saw Hal enter the garden and walk straight up to her, while a shout from the little boy showed that he was no stranger. Stranger! I should say not, by the _kiss_ he gave that girl or woman, with me looking on, and saying aloud: “That’s Anna, sure!” Yes, it was Anna come abroad with Madame Verwest and her child, and her former maid, Celine, whom she had found at Chateau d’Or, where they had stopped for a few days. And an hour after I was introduced to Mrs. Haverleigh, and sat opposite her at the breakfast we had in her parlor, and studied her closely, and decided that Hal had not overrated her charms. She was beautiful, with that soft, refined, unconscious beauty that one rarely sees in a really handsome face. There was nothing of the doll about her. She was a thorough woman, graceful, pure, and lovely, with a look in her blue eyes which told of Chateau d’Or and the dreamy day and night watches there. But those were over now. Chateau d’Or was rented for a series of years, at a price merely nominal, and so that was off her hands, and the greatest care she had was the care of her immense fortune. Of course Hal had offered to relieve her of this care, and she had accepted his offer, and given him herself as a retaining fee.