When she had extinguished all the lights below, madame passed up the stairs, putting out the smoking torches as she went, and, reaching the upper hall, went immediately to her own bedroom. Here she slipped off the heavy mantle and the modified “cote-hardi.” Then, clad only in a long, light, damask tunic, she went over to one of the wide-open west windows, and, leaning across its sill, looked out upon the vasty, murmurous, summer sea. Low on the horizon, among a group of faint clustering stars, swung the crescent moon, which was reflected in the smooth surface of a distant wave. A great, fresh, salt breath came up like a tonic through the wilted air. The voice of the sea was infinitely soothing. Eleanore listened to it eagerly, her lips parted, her eyes wandering along that distant wave-line; her thoughts almost as far away. Presently the door of her room opened, softly; and some one paused upon the threshold. Instinctively she knew who it was that entered. Half turning, she said gently,— “Thou’rt come here, Gerault?” Her son came forward slowly, halted a few steps away, and held out one hand to her. She went to him and took it, wondering a little at his manner, but not questioning him. Quietly she drew the young man to the window where she had been; and both stood there and looked out upon the scene. They were silent for a long time. It was intensely difficult for Gerault to speak; and madame knew not how to help him. At length, in a voice that sounded slightly strained, he asked: “Thou’rt pleased with her? Thou’rt satisfied, my mother?” “Oh, Gerault! Gerault! She is so fair, so delicate, so like some faery child! I almost fear to see her beauty fade in the shadow of these gray walls.” “And will she—Lenore—help thee, in a way, to forget thy grief in Laure?” Eleanore gave a sudden, involuntary sob; for none had pronounced that name to her since the early spring. The sob was answer enough to Gerault’s question. But in a moment she said, in a voice that was perfectly controlled: “Methinks I love her, thy lady, already. Ah, my son, she is very sweet! Very, very sweet and fair!” [Illustration] _CHAPTER SEVEN_ THE LOST LENORE [Illustration]