“Bah!” said Herbert, “that is the usual thing which I understand all women say to faire valoir their little services. What has she given up? They would not have been pleasures to her while I was ill; and she ought to understand. It comes back to what I said, mamma. Reine is a clever girl, as girls go--and I am not clever, that I know; but the thing which she cannot grasp is quite clear to me. It is best to say no more about it--_you_ can understand reason, and explain to her what I mean.” “Yes, chéri,” said Madame de Mirfleur, submissively; then she added, “Monsieur Everard left you at Appenzell? Was he weary of the quiet? or had he cause to go?” “Why, he had lost his money, and had to look after it--or he thought he had lost his money. Probably, too, he found it slow. There was nobody there, and I was not good for much in those days. He had to be content with Reine. Perhaps he thought she was not much company for him,” said the young man, with a sentiment not unusual in young men toward their sisters. His mother watched him with a curious expression. Madame de Mirfleur was in her way a student of human nature, and though it was her son who made these revelations, she was amused by them all the same, and rather encouraged him than otherwise to speak his mind. But if she said nothing about Reine, this did not mean that she was deceived in respect to her daughter, or with Herbert’s view of the matter. But she wanted to hear all he had to say, and for the moment she looked upon him more as a typical representative of man, than as himself a creature in whose credit she, his mother, was concerned. “It has appeared to you that this might be the reason why he went away?” “I never thought much about it,” said Herbert. “I had enough to do thinking of myself. So I have now. I don’t care to go into Everard’s affairs. If he likes to come, he’ll come, I suppose; and if he don’t like, he won’t--that’s all about it--that’s how I would act if it were me. Hallo! why, while we’re talking, here he is! Look here--in that carriage at the door!” “Ah, make my excuses, Herbert. I go to speak to François about a room for him,” said Madame de Mirfleur. What she did, in fact, was to dart into her own room, where Reine was sitting at work on some article of dress. Julie had much to do, looking after and catering for the little party, so that Reine had to make herself useful, and do things occasionally for herself. “Chérie,” said her mother, stooping over her, “thy cousin is come--he is at the door. I thought it best to tell you before you met him. For my part, I never like to be taken at the unforeseen--I prefer to be prepared.”