"Oh, my dear!" the Baronne de Vibray answered, "it is perfectly obvious that you lead the life of a hermit in this remote country home of yours, and that echoes from the world of Paris do not reach you often! Lord and Lady Beltham are among the best known and most popular people in society. He was formerly attached to the English Embassy, but left Paris to fight in the Transvaal, and his wife went with him and showed magnificent courage and compassion in charge of the ambulance and hospital work. They then went back to London, and a couple of years ago they settled once more in Paris. They lived, and still live, in the boulevard Inkermann at Neuilly-sur-Seine, in a delightful house where they entertain a great deal. I have often been one of Lady Beltham's guests; she is a most fascinating woman, distinguished, tall, fair, and endowed with the charm that is peculiar to the women of the North. I am very distressed at the trouble that is hanging over her." "Well," said the Marquise de Langrune conclusively, "I mean to believe that the gloomy prognostications of our friend the president will not be justified by the event." "Amen!" murmured the Abbé mechanically, roused from his gentle slumber by the closing words of the Marquise. * * * * * The clock chimed ten, and her duties as hostess did not make the Marquise forgetful of her duties as grandmother. "Thérèse," she called, "it is your bed-time. It is very late, darling." The child obediently left her game, said good night to the Baronne de Vibray and President Bonnet, and last of all to the old priest, who gave her a paternal embrace. "Shall I see you at the seven o'clock mass, Thérèse?" he asked. The child turned to the Marquise. "Will you let me accompany Charles to the station to-morrow morning? I will go to the eight o'clock mass on my way back." The Marquise looked at Charles Rambert. "Your father really is coming by the train that reaches Verrières at 6.55?" and when he assented she hesitated a moment before replying to Thérèse. "I think, dear, it would be better to let our young friend go alone to meet his father." But Charles Rambert put in his plea. "Oh, I am sure my father would be delighted to see Thérèse with me when he gets out of the train." "Very well, then," the kind old lady said; "arrange it as you please. But, Thérèse, before you go upstairs, tell our good steward, Dollon, to give orders for the carriage to be ready by six o'clock. It is a long way to the station." Thérèse promised, and the two young people left the drawing-room. "A pretty couple," remarked the Baronne de Vibray, adding with a characteristic touch of malice, "you mean to make a match between them some day, Marquise?" The old lady threw up her hands protesting. "What an idea! Why, Thérèse is not fifteen yet."