"We have not met for so long," she said, "that I am not quite sure of you." She threw her head back and scrutinized his face with half-closed lids; and about her lips there was an attempt to smile, that came and went fitfully. "Besides," she added, as she turned away at last, "you could not possibly be so simple as that." "By 'simple,' do you mean foolish, or do you mean plain?" "Neither," she answered without looking at him. "I mean innocent." "Oh!" Gilbert uttered the ejaculation in a tone expressive rather of bewilderment than of surprise. He did not in the least understand what she meant. Seeing that she did not enlighten him, and feeling uncomfortable, it was quite natural that he should attack her on different ground. "You have changed," he said coldly. "I suppose you have grown up, as you call it." For a moment Beatrix said nothing, but her lips trembled as if she were trying not to smile at what he said; and suddenly she could resist no longer, and laughed at him outright. "I cannot say the same for you," she retorted presently; "you are certainly not grown up yet!" This pleased Gilbert even less than what she had said before, for he was still young enough to wish himself older. He therefore answered her laughter with a look of grave contempt. She was woman enough to see that the time had come to take him by surprise, with a view of ascertaining the truth. "How long has the Queen loved you?" she asked suddenly; and while she seemed not to be looking at him, she was watching every line in his face, and would have noticed the movement of an eyelash if there had been nothing else to note. But Gilbert was really surprised. "The Queen! The Queen love me! Are you beside yourself?" "Not at all," answered the young girl, quietly; "it is the talk of the court. They say that the King is jealous of you." She laughed--gayly, this time, for she saw that he really had had no idea of the truth. Then she grew grave all at once, for it occurred to her that she had perhaps made a mistake in putting the idea into his head. "At least," she said, as if correcting herself, "that is what they used to say last year." "You are quite mad," he said, without a smile. "I cannot imagine how such an absurd idea could have suggested itself to you. In the first place, the Queen would never look at a poor Englishman like me--" "I defy any woman not to look at you," said Beatrix. "Why?" he asked, with, curiosity. "Is this more simplicity, or is it more dulness?" "Both, I suppose," answered Gilbert, in a hurt tone. "You are very witty." "Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "Wit is quite another thing." Then her tone changed and her face softened wonderfully as she took his hand. "I am glad that you do not believe it," she said; "and I am glad that you do not care to be thought handsome. But I think it is true that the Queen loves you, and if she sent to England for me, that was merely in order to bring you back to France. Of course she could not know--"