“Holy saints! I was just coming to seek thee again. Hadst forgotten that madame waits for thee? There—go in!” Courtoise never noticed the mischief of Alixe’s tone, but went straight into the room, and saw Lenore sitting by the window with the baby on her lap. She turned toward him, smiling, and holding out her hand. He went over, looking at her thirstily, but not so that she could read what was in his heart. Then he realized vaguely that Alixe had left the room, and that he was alone with Lenore. “’Tis very long, Courtoise, very long, since we have seen each other. Why hast thou not come ere now?” “Madame! Had I but thought thou’dst have had me! Thrice every day during thy illness came I to thy door to ask after thee and the babe; and since then—often—I have stood and listened, to hear if thou wast speaking here within. But I did not know—” “Enough, Courtoise! I thank thee. Thou’rt very good. Thou knowest thou’rt all that I have left of Gerault, and I would fain have thee oftener near me. Wilt take the babe? Little one! She feels the strength of a man’s arms but seldom. Sit there yonder with her. So!” She put the tiny bundle into his strong arms, and laughed to see the half-terrified air with which the young fellow bore it over to the settle which she indicated. But when he had sat down, he laid the baby on his knees, and then, retaining careful hold of it, turned his whole look upon Lenore. She smiled at him, supremely unconscious of the electric thrills that were making the man’s whole body quiver and tremble with emotion. Indeed, it would have been difficult enough to read his feeling in his matter-of-fact manner. For a long time they sat there, talking upon many subjects, but most of all about Gerault, whose name had scarcely crossed Lenore’s lips since the time of his death. To Courtoise it was an acute pain to hear her refer to the various incidents of her courtship in Rennes; but back of her words there was no suggestion of either grief or bitterness. She recalled her first acquaintance with Gerault fully, incident by incident, and caused Courtoise to take an unwilling part in the reminiscences. He hoped continually to get her away from the subject, to matters now nearer both of them; but time sped on, and, as the sun began to near the sea, the baby woke from sleep with a little cry that Courtoise recognized with a pang. His hour was over; and he had gained little hope from it. Yet, as he returned the baby to its mother’s arms, there was a smile for him in Lenore’s calm eyes, and he retreated with a beating heart as Madame Eleanore and Laure came together into the room, to spend their usual evening hour with the mother and child.