"No, _maman_, you know better than that; you know that whenever I am at home I never think of going to bed without saying goodnight to _maman_. But I am late, dear; I have had friends sitting with me, and they have only just gone." "Friends, eh? Ah, that must be odd to see friends. And you took them for a _promenade_ on the Lac, and you---- _Ah, bah! quelle enfantillage!_ your friends were men, of course. Some of those who sing so sweetly sometimes? No! but still men? Ah, no one else has ever come here." "No one else, _maman?_" "See, George, come closer. _She_ has not come?" "No, _maman_," said the young man, rising, and regarding her with a look of genuine affection and pity. "No, _maman_, not yet." "Ah, not yet--always not yet," she said, letting her elbow relax, and falling back in the bed--"always not yet!" And she covered her face with her hands, removing them after a few minutes to say: "But she will come? she will come?" "Oh yes, dear, let us trust so," said George, quietly. She looked at him, first earnestly, then wistfully, for several minutes; then she dried the tears which, unseen by him, almost unknown to her, had been trickling down her face, and said in a trembling voice: "Goodnight, my boy." "Goodnight, _maman_. God bless you!" And he bent over her, and kissed her forehead. "_Dieu me bénisse!_" she said, with a half-smile. "In time, George, when _she_ comes back! Meantime, _Dieu te bénisse_, my son!" He bent his head again, and she encircled it with her arms, brushed each of his cheeks with her lips, and kissed his hand; then murmuring, "Goodnight," sank back on her pillow. George took up his lamp, and crept silently from the room, and down the corridor, down the stairs, and towards the outer door. As he passed Miss Marshall's room he looked in, and saw her, bright, brisk, and cheerful, sitting at her needlework, an epitome of neatness and propriety. George could not refrain from stopping in his progress, and saying: "You don't look much like a 'keeper,' Miss Marshall. I had a friend with me to-night, who laughingly asked me to show him the night-watch of such places as these, of whom he had read in songs and novels. I think he would have been rather astonished if I had brought him across the garden and introduced him to you." "Oh, they're not much 'count, those kind of trash, I think, Mr. George," said Miss Marshall, who was eminently practical. "I read about 'em often enough when I was a nursery-governess, and before I came into the profession. I daresay he expected to see a man with big whiskers, with a sword and a brace of pistols in his belt, and perhaps two big dogs following him up and down the passages! At least, I know that used to be my idea. You found Madame Vaughan all well and quiet and comfortable, Mr. George? And left her so, no doubt?" "Oh yes. She was just the same as usual, poor dear."