the
possession of these attributes. A castle founded on such a rock was not
a castle in Spain!

It did not occur to Honora that her thoughts might be more of the castle
than of the rock: of the heaven he was to hold on his shoulders than of
the Hercules she had chosen to hold it.

She would write to her Aunt Mary and her Uncle Tom that very
afternoon--one letter to both. Tears came into her eyes when she thought
of them, and of their lonely life' without her. But they would come on
to New York to visit her often, and they would be proud of her. Of one
thing she was sure--she must go home to them at once--on Tuesday. She
would tell Mrs. Holt to-morrow, and Susan to-night. And, while pondering
over the probable expression of that lady's amazement, it suddenly
occurred to her that she must write the letter immediately, because
Peter Erwin was coming.

What would he say? Should she tell him? She was surprised to find that
the idea of doing so was painful to her. But she was aroused from these
reflections by a step on the path, and raised her head to perceive the
Vicomte. His face wore an expression of triumph.

"At last," he cried, "at last!" And he sat down on the bench beside
her. Her first impulse was to rise, yet for some inexplicable reason she
remained.

"I always suspected in you the qualities of a Monsieur Lecoq," she
remarked. "You have an instinct for the chase."

"Mon dieu?" he said. "I have risked a stroke of the sun to find you. Why
should you so continually run away from me?"

"To test your ingenuity, Vicomte."

"And that other one--the stock-broker--you do not avoid him. Diable, I
am not blind, Mademoiselle. It is plain to me at luncheon that you have
made boil the sluggish blood of that one. As for me--"

"Your boiling-point is lower," she said, smiling.

"Listen, Mademoiselle," he pursued, bending towards her. "It is not for
my health that I stay here, as I have told you. It is for the sight of
you, for the sound of the music of that low voice. It is in the hope
that you will be a little kinder, that you will understand me a little
better. And to-day, when I learn that still another is on his way to see
you, I could sit still no longer. I do not fear that Spence,--no. But
this other--what is he like?"

"He is the best type of American," replied Honora. "I am sure you will
be interested in him, and like him."

The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders.

"It is not in America that you will find you