* * * * * God! what is the meaning of it all--! I have been in hell----I came in from my drive very quietly, it was early, a quarter to six, Miss Sharp goes at six--It was a horribly chilly evening and Burton had lit a bright wood fire--and I suppose its crackling prevented my hearing the sounds which were coming from the next room for a minute. I sat down in my chair--. What was that?--the _roucoulements_ of a dove?--No, a woman's voice cooing foolish love words in French and English--and a child's treble gurgling fondness back to her. It seemed as if my heart stopped beating--as if every nerve in my spine quivered--a tremendous emotion of I know not what convulsed me.--I lay and listened and suddenly I felt my cheek wet with tears--then some shame, some anger shook me, and I started to my feet, and hobbled to the door which was ajar--I opened it wide--there was Miss Sharp with the _concierge's_ daughter's baby on her lap fondling it--the creature may be six months old. Her horn spectacles lay on the table. She looked up at me, the slightest flash of timidity showing--but her eyes--Oh! God! the eyes of the Madonna--heavenly blue, tender as an angel's--soft as a doe's--. I could have cried aloud with some pain in the soul--and so that brute part of me spoke--. "How dare you make this noise"?--I said rudely--"do you not know that I have given orders for complete quiet"--. She rose, holding the child with the greatest dignity--The picture she made could be in the Sistine Chapel. "I beg your pardon" she said in a voice which was not quite steady--"I did not know you had returned, and Madame Bizot asked me to hold little Augustine while she went to the next floor--it shall not occur again!" I longed to stay and gaze at them both--I would have liked to have touched the baby's queer little fat fingers--I would have liked--Oh--I know not what--And all the time Miss Sharp held the child protectively, as though something evil would come from me and harm it.--Then she turned and carried it out of the room--and I went back into my sitting-room and flung myself down in my chair--. What had I done--Beast--brute--What had I done? And will she never come back again?--and will life be emptier than ever--? I could kill myself--. * * * * * It shall not be only Suzette but six others for supper to-night--. _Five a.m._--The dawn is here and it is not the rare sound of an August pigeon that I am listening to, but the tender cooing of a woman and a child--God, how can I get it out of my ears. V This morning I feel as if I could hardly bear it until Miss Sharp arrives--I dressed early, ready to begin a new chapter although I have not an idea in my head, and, as the time grows nearer, it is difficult for me to remain still here in my chair.