made us a lane
through the crowd. Graham followed, apostrophizing his mother as the
most flourishing grisette it had ever been his good fortune to see
charged with carriage of a bandbox; he also desired me to mark her
affection for the sky-blue turban, and announced his conviction that
she intended one day to wear it.

The night was now very cold and very dark, but with little delay we
found the carriage. Soon we were packed in it, as warm and as snug as
at a fire-side; and the drive home was, I think, still pleasanter than
the drive to the concert. Pleasant it was, even though the
coachman--having spent in the shop of a "marchand de vin" a portion of
the time we passed at the concert--drove us along the dark and solitary
chaussee far past the turn leading down to La Terrasse; we, who were
occupied in talking and laughing, not noticing the aberration till, at
last, Mrs. Bretton intimated that, though she had always thought the
chateau a retired spot, she did not know it was situated at the world's
end, as she declared seemed now to be the case, for she believed we had
been an hour and a half en route, and had not yet taken the turn down
the avenue.

Then Graham looked out, and perceiving only dim-spread fields, with
unfamiliar rows of pollards and limes ranged along their else invisible
sunk-fences, began to conjecture how matters were, and calling a halt
and descending, he mounted the box and took the reins himself. Thanks
to him, we arrived safe at home about an hour and a half beyond our
time.

Martha had not forgotten us; a cheerful fire was burning, and a neat
supper spread in the dining-room: we were glad of both. The winter dawn
was actually breaking before we gained our chambers. I took off my pink
dress and lace mantle with happier feelings than I had experienced in
putting them on. Not all, perhaps, who had shone brightly arrayed at
that concert could say the same; for not all had been satisfied with
friendship--with its calm comfort and modest hope.

CHAPTER XXI.

REACTION.

Yet three days, and then I must go back to the _pensionnat_. I almost
numbered the moments of these days upon the clock; fain would I have
retarded their flight; but they glided by while I watched them: they
were already gone while I yet feared their departure.

"Lucy will not leave us to-day," said Mrs. Bretton, coaxingly at
breakfast; "she knows we can procure a second respite."

"I would not ask for one if I might ha