I am crossing to-night, and shall reach Sainte Véronique to-morrow at 6 p.m. RUDDINGTON. Susan snatched the paper out of my hand with a cry of dismay. "Oh, Miss!" she moaned, letting it fall on the grass, "whatever shall we do?" I was struck dumb. "Whatever shall we do?" she cried again. "Oh, Miss Gertrude, he mustn’t come! I can’t bear it. I must send him a telegram at once. I must!" Too much staggered to answer, I looked at her blankly. She collapsed on the rustic seat by my side, covered her face with her pretty new French apron, and went off into an old-fashioned, uncontrollable fit of weeping. To the sound of her sobs, I tried to decide what course was best. Susan’s plan of an immediate telegram commanding him to stop at home seemed good at first. But I glanced at his words again, and all doubt vanished. I knew that Susan might as well tell to-morrow’s sun not to rise, to-morrow’s tides not to flow, as tell Ruddington that to-morrow he must not invade Sainte Véronique. Nor could I blame him, or wonder at him. With such a letter as mine in his hand, I should have despised him if he had not flown on the wings of the wind. "Stop crying, Susan," I said. And, with a bitterness which she did not understand, I added, "It is I who should be upset, not you." "Yes, Miss, I know, Miss," sobbed Susan. "With you so ill and weak, it’s horrible, it’s dreadful!" "I don’t mean that, Susan," I said. "But do you think I like his coming here? First it was Gibson, and now it’s Lord Ruddington." She turned on me white with terror. "I know, I know, oh, I know, Miss Gertrude!" she crooned, wringing her hands. "What if Gibson meets him, Miss? They’ll fight, and they’ll both be killed!" "Don’t talk nonsense," I said irritably; "if they killed each other, at least we should have some peace. As for sending a telegram, what’s the good? He’s made up his mind. Very likely he has started. If so, no power on earth will turn him back again." "Do you think, Miss----?" began Susan. "Think what?" "Your letter, Miss ... my letter. Do you think that perhaps it was too ... loving?" "And what if it was?" I retorted. "He’s got the letter by now, hasn’t he? He’s got it, and it can’t be altered." Susan wept afresh. "Oh, Miss!" she moaned. "If only we was at Traxelby I wouldn’t mind. But it’s dreadful!" A plan occurred to me. "Wait here," I said, "while I go and speak to Madame." Within a quarter of an hour it was all arranged. I told Madame that an Englishman from the next parish to my own would arrive to-morrow night. Madame is the pink of propriety; and she had nothing but approval for my scheme of taking Susan and Georgette to the Villa de la Mer for the time of Ruddington’s stay. I took it upon myself to declare that the newcomer will go away again on Sunday; and I am not sure that I shall allow him to remain so long.