banter never wounded, not even when coupled,
as it often was, with the assertion, that however I might _write_ his
language, I _spoke_ and always should speak it imperfectly and
hesitatingly. "'All these weary days' I have not for one hour forgotten
you. Faithful women err in this, that they think themselves the sole
faithful of God's creatures. On a very fervent and living truth to
myself, I, too, till lately scarce dared count, from any quarter;
but----look at me.",

I lifted my happy eyes: they _were_ happy now, or they would have been
no interpreters of my heart.

"Well," said he, after some seconds' scrutiny, "there is no denying
that signature: Constancy wrote it: her pen is of iron. Was the record
painful?"

"Severely painful," I said, with truth. "Withdraw her hand, Monsieur; I
can bear its inscribing force no more."

"Elle est toute pale," said he, speaking to himself; "cette figure-la
me fait mal."

"Ah! I am not pleasant to look at----?"

I could not help saying this; the words came unbidden: I never remember
the time when I had not a haunting dread of what might be the degree of
my outward deficiency; this dread pressed me at the moment with special
force.

A great softness passed upon his countenance; his violet eyes grew
suffused and glistening under their deep Spanish lashes: he started up;
"Let us walk on."

"Do I displease your eyes _much_?" I took courage to urge: the point
had its vital import for me.

He stopped, and gave me a short, strong answer; an answer which
silenced, subdued, yet profoundly satisfied. Ever after that I knew
what I was for _him_; and what I might be for the rest of the world, I
ceased painfully to care. Was it weak to lay so much stress on an
opinion about appearance? I fear it might be; I fear it was; but in
that case I must avow no light share of weakness. I must own great fear
of displeasing--a strong wish moderately to please M. Paul.

Whither we rambled, I scarce knew. Our walk was long, yet seemed short;
the path was pleasant, the day lovely. M. Emanuel talked of his
voyage--he thought of staying away three years. On his return from
Guadaloupe, he looked forward to release from liabilities and a clear
course; and what did I purpose doing in the interval of his absence? he
asked. I had talked once, he reminded me, of trying to be independent
and keeping a little school of my own: had I dropped the idea?

"Indeed, I had not: I was doing my best to save what w