Madame, who was engaged in “receiving” from monsieur her stick-in-waiting the names of _débutantes_ hedge-flowers presented to her, waved a gracious end to the ceremony, and, greeting my lord as if he were a dear friend, invited him to pace beside her. “It is well timed,” she said. “Monsieur has received my letter? And will Friday suit our so generous cavalier to depart?” Ned bowed with his never-failing gravity. “Yes,” he said simply. The lady clasped her hands. “_Mon Dieu_!” she exclaimed, with a quite melodramatic fervour, “it is the passing of the cloud. After all the tempest-tossing, to see the shore in sight!”--and she hastily lifted her skirts from contact with a roadside puddle. “Monsieur,” said a little voice almost at Ned’s ear, “do you know what is a _corolle_ and what a _nectaire_?” In some mood of impudence or mischief Pamela was come to give her company unbidden. She would pretend not to see the warning gestures of _la gouvernante_. She held in her hand the parts of a dismembered flower, and she looked up at the young man as she stepped, light as his own sudden thoughts, at his side. She felt a little warmth, a little pity towards him. He was going far away, and to serve her. That she knew. It was in the nature of a tiny confidence between them. Her glance was appealing as a child’s, asking not to be left. And as for Ned, the sight of this sweet face close to him so inflamed his heart that his formal speech took fire. “I know when I look at you,” he said; “they are mademoiselle’s cheek and mouth classified.” In the near prospect of his banishment he spoke out reckless of consequences. Perhaps the unexpected answer took the girl herself by surprise. She hung her head and fell back a little. “Mademoiselle,” cried Ned, “if I might take thence a rose to wear for a favour!” “Oh, fie!” she answered, “that is not even original; it is to repeat Mr Sherree-den’s foolishness. And they are not roses at all.” “Nor rouge,” said Ned, “though you once implied it.” “No,” she said, with a pert glance at her _gouvernante_; “madame-maman does not approve. But sometimes to rub them with a geranium petal--that is not immoral, is it?” “I don’t know,” cried the young man; “but the geranium shall be my queen of flowers from this time!” “Pamela!” cried madame, in desperate chagrin over every word that passed between the two, yet impotent, under existing circumstances, to give expression to her annoyance; but she ventured to summon the child pretty peremptorily to come and walk beside her, and only in this order was my lord destined to enjoy for an hour a divided pleasure.