The return of Isidore to France had of course been the great event of the autumn, and the chateau had been even more than usually thronged with visitors during the six months that succeeded his arrival. Madame de Valricour had managed matters with her accustomed dexterity, and although she had not yet brought Isidore to the point of formally avowing himself as a suitor for the hand of Clotilde, she was satisfied that all was going right, and was too wary to spoil all by precipitancy. The baroness fancied she knew Isidore better even than he knew himself, and secretly rejoiced to find his visits to Valricour become more and more frequent, and his walks in the forest with Clotilde, accompanied by Marguerite for propriety's sake, more and more prolonged. At last she thought the pear was ripe, and she took a decided step in order to bring the affair to an issue. Let us see what came of it. [Illustration: Headpiece to Chapter II] CHAPTER II. Whether or not there was in that part of France a more charming view than that from the terrace of the Chateau de Valricour, there certainly was not in all France on that bright May morning a more happy pair than the two young people who sat side by side, each clasping the other's hand, in one of the pleasant trellised arbours which from either end of the terrace overlooked the pleasant scene. And yet, perhaps, those who think the beautiful in nature inconsistent with strongly marked and striking features, might consider that true happiness and prosperity, so called, could not co-exist with such intense excitement and such bewildering surprise as just then rendered Isidore and Marguerite for some minutes incapable of expressing what they felt. "I can scarcely believe it possible. O Isidore! are you quite sure that there is no strange mistake in it all?" "Nay, read for yourself, my darling one," he replied, once more unfolding the letter which he held in his hand, and quietly withdrawing the other to point to the words that had brought out the passionate declaration he had but just made to her. "See here! After a few lines about my uncle Valricour, this is what my father says. You do not know him as well as I do, but you see he is not one to allow any silly notions about fortune or noble descent to stand in the way of what he believes to be right." Marguerite took the letter, and though still trembling with excitement, managed to read as follows: