made love divinely. When he had caught up
with her, his contriteness was such that she was willing to believe he
had not meant to insult her. And then, he was a Frenchman. As a proof of
his versatility, if not of his good faith, he talked of neutral matters
on the way back to the house, with the charming ease and lightness that
was the gift of his race and class. On the borders of the wood they
encountered the Robert Holts, walking with their children.

"Madame," said the Vicomte to Gwendolen, "your Silverdale is enchanting.
We have been to that little summer-house which commands the valley."

"And are you still learning things about our country, Vicomte?" she
asked, with a glance at Honora.

CHAPTER X. IN WHICH HONORA WIDENS HER HORIZON

If it were not a digression, it might be interesting to speculate upon
the reason why, in view of their expressed opinions of Silverdale,
both the Vicomte and Mr. Spence remained during the week that followed.
Robert, who went off in the middle of it with his family to the
seashore, described it to Honora as a normal week. During its progress
there came and went a missionary from China, a pianist, an English lady
who had heard of the Institution, a Southern spinster with literary
gifts, a youthful architect who had not built anything, and a young
lawyer interested in settlement work.

The missionary presented our heroine with a book he had written about
the Yang-tse-kiang; the Southern lady suspected her of literary gifts;
the architect walked with her through the woods to the rustic shelter
where the Vicomte had kissed her hand, and told her that he now
comprehended the feelings of Christopher Wren when he conceived St.
Paul's Cathedral, of Michael Angelo when he painted the Sistine Chapel.
Even the serious young lawyer succumbed, though not without a struggle.
When he had first seen Miss Leffingwell, he confessed, he had thought
her frivolous. He had done her an injustice, and wished to acknowledge
it before he left. And, since she was interested in settlement work, he
hoped, if she were going through New York, that she would let him know.
It would be a real pleasure to show her what he was doing.

Best of all, Honora, by her unselfishness, endeared herself to her
hostess.

"I can't tell you what a real help you are to me, my dear," said that
lady. "You have a remarkable gift with people for so young a girl, and I
do you the credit of thinking that it all springs from a