"I shall hope to hear great things of you, Monsieur," she said, "and to learn that you have come through the campaign unscathed." "Your good wishes shall be my talisman, Mademoiselle," said Fanshawe gallantly, bowing over her hand. Harry meanwhile had taken leave of Madame de Vaudrey, who held both his hands and spoke to him with a quite motherly tenderness. Then he turned to say good-bye to Adèle. She had disappeared. Fanshawe had already gone out to the front of the house to see that his horse’s girth was rightly strapped, and Harry followed, thinking that Mademoiselle had perhaps accompanied him to the door. But as he passed through the hall, he saw through the open door of the dining-room that Adèle was there, standing at the window with her back to him. "There you are, Mademoiselle," he said, entering the room; "I was looking for you. It is a longer good-bye this time." She turned round slowly, and her back being to the sunset glow he could scarcely see her features. She held out her hand, and said slowly, with perhaps a little less cordiality than he had unconsciously expected: "Adieu, Monsieur Harry!" He took her hand, hesitated for a moment, and then was gone. As he left the porch he saw Sherebiah coming round from the garden with his arm unblushingly about the waist of Katrinka, the prettiest maidservant of the house. The honest fellow led the girl up to his master. "I’ve done it, sir," he said. "Her’ve said it. Feyther o’ mine may think what a’ will, but, an’t please Them above to bring me through, by next winter there’ll be a Mistress Minshull once more to comfort his old aged soul. Eh, Katrinka, lass?" The girl looked shyly up and dropt a curtsy. "’Pon my soul, Sherry, you’re a lucky fellow," said Harry. "My old friend will be pleased, I promise you. And look ’ee, I’ll give you five minutes to say good-bye to Katrinka while Mr. Fanshawe and I ride on." "Thank ’ee, sir! I’ll catch ’ee up, soon as her be done." "Sherry has had better luck than you, Fanshawe," said Harry with a smile, as they rode off. "Yes, confound him! But hang it, Harry, I’ll not give up hope yet. She was very kind to me when she said good-bye, and, by George! if I only escape a Frenchman’s bullet and can manage to come off with flying colours and a neat little sabre-cut—who knows? she may be Mistress Godfrey Fanshawe yet."