“It will be my greatest pleasure,” said the manager’s wife. “Mademoiselle looks tired and will doubtless like to go to her room.” Evereld assented and toiled upstairs after the brisk capable looking manageress who chatted pleasantly as they went. “He has the best of hearts, old Father Nicolas,” she said. “I have known him since I was a child. There is not a living thing I verily believe that he does not love. It was a sight to see him standing on a winter’s morning in the garden of the Presbytère and feeding the birds before he went to Mass.” “Where does he live?” asked Evereld. “At Arvron, a little village where there are many poor. His people adore him. This will be your room, mademoiselle, and shall I send you up a little hot soup to take the last thing, or will you rather come down to the _salle à manger?_” “I should like it here please,” said Evereld. “And you won’t let me over-sleep myself and miss the train to-morrow. I am so tired, I think I should sleep the clock round if no one called me.” “I will call you myself,” said the manageress. “It is a busy life here and I am always an early riser. _Bon soir, mademoiselle_. I hope you will be quite rested by the morning.” “How much easier it has all been than I expected,” thought Evereld, as she made her preparations for the night. “To think that this time yesterday I was at Glion and in such a panic lest anything should prevent my getting away! I wonder whether I had better telegraph to Mrs. Magnay, and tell her I am on my way to ask her protection? I don’t think I will. It might lead to my being traced later on, and besides I have no idea whether there is a telegraph office within reasonable reach of the Chateau. How I wonder what it will be like.” Her reflections were interrupted by the arrival of a pretty young chambermaid who brought her a basin of the most delicious soup; and long before midnight she was sound asleep and dreaming of Bride and Aimée. She woke up in excellent spirits, chatted with Madame as she breakfasted on the coffee and rolls, which the pretty chambermaid brought to her bedroom, and set off on the next stage of her journey full of hope for the future and relief that all had passed off so well. At that very minute Sir Matthew Mactavish was ruefully regarding her empty room at Glion and wondering how he could possibly trace her out. But Evereld was too busy to trouble herself much over the thought of his well-deserved discomfiture. Every one seemed intent on being kind to her here. The Manageress was almost motherly in her solicitude, the chambermaid waited on her as though service were a pleasure, and the hotel porter neglected the other passengers in the omnibus until he had seen her safely established in the _salle d’attente_ with her possessions. Here to her surprise she found old Father Nicolas reading his breviary.