Sir Ralph stayed beside them till they were close to the edge of the wood, helping them to climb up the steep, rough paths. Then he hastened on before them, saying they had better follow at their leisure. Soon after they had reached the châlet it became time to think of rejoining the carriages. They all descended the hill together; an easier managed business than the ascent; and returned home as they came, except that, by Lady Severn’s request, Marion took Mr. Harper’s seat in her carriage, that gentleman occupying her former place, and was set down with Mrs. Archer at the door of their own house, which was passed on their way to the Rue des Lauriers. So ended little Sybil’s birthday pic-nic. CHAPTER IX. “DE CAP A TU SOY MARION” “And will thee, nill thee, I must love Till the grass grows my head above.” TRANS. OF DES POURINNS BÉARNAIS SONGS. “Ihre Augen waren nicht die Schönsten die ich jemals sah, aber die tiefsten, hinter denen man am meisten erwartete.” WAHRHETT UND DICHTUNG. THE weeks passed on quietly, and to outward seeming, uneventfully enough. Cissy and Marion grew so accustomed to their calm, pleasant, life at Altes, that save for occasional home letters, they could have fancied themselves permanently settled in the pretty little southern town. Harry wrote frequently and very cheerfully, only bewailing, as the Christmas holidays drew nearer, that they must be spent away from Marion. At rarer intervals there came paternal epistles from Mr. Vere, to which Marion always dutifully replied. Cissy, as her share, had regular letters from her husband, who latterly had alluded to a prospect before him of obtaining ere long a staff appointment in a part of the country sufficiently healthy for his wife to rejoin him there without risk. Mrs. Archer was in great spirits at this news, and chattered away about returning to India, as if it were the most easily managed little journey in the world. But Marion, as she looked at her, felt certain vague misgivings. She was not satisfied that her cousin was gaining strength from her sojourn at Altes, for at times she looked sadly fragile. The slightest extra exertion utterly prostrated her, and yet so buoyant and high-spirited was she, that Marion found it impossible to persuade her to take more care of herself. Poor little Cissy! What a baby she was after all! And yet a difficult baby to manage, with all her genuine sweet temper and pretty playfulness.