me?"

Even now I do not know what made me speak, save that she was going. The
very ticking of the clock was bringing the moment nearer, and there she
was, staring at me, wide-eyed, half puzzled and half frightened. It
seemed already as though she were further away.

"Do you not see?" I said. "It is not like you not to understand. Nor is
it very kind. How can I see you go and be glad? How can I be glad you
love my father?"

"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed suddenly startled, "Your father! I care for
your father!"

I bowed in quick contrition.

"Mademoiselle," I said, "I fear I have been very rude, and, as usual,
very gauche. I beg you to forgive me."

"But I tell you," she cried, "I do not love him!"

I bowed again in silence.

"You do not believe me?"

"Mademoiselle may rest assured," I replied gently, "that I
understand--perfectly."

"You!" I started at her sudden vexation, started to find that her eyes
were filled with tears.

"You understand quite nothing! Never have I seen anyone so cruel,
so stupid!"

"Mademoiselle," I said, "I have been awkward, but forgive me--the cabin
of the _Sea Tern_, where you asked him to sail on, and when you bade him
recall what he said on the stairs at Blanzy.... Your pardon! I have been
very blunt."

And now she was regarding me with blank astonishment.

"Surely he told you," she murmured, "Surely he told you what the Marquis
had intended."

Then she stopped, confused and silent.

"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed suddenly, "But he has told you nothing!"

"No," I said dully, "He has been most discreet. But does it make any real
difference, Mademoiselle, except that I know now that the Marquis was a
man of very keen discrimination?"

"Are you mad?" cried Mademoiselle, "I tell you it is not your father. I
tell you I--"

Her face had grown scarlet. She bowed her head, and tugged more violently
than ever at the corner of her handkerchief.

"Mademoiselle," I said unsteadily, "Mademoiselle, what was it he told you
at Blanzy?"

"I cannot tell you if you do not know," she answered, "Indeed I cannot."

"But you will!" I cried. "You will, Mademoiselle! You must!
Mademoiselle--"

Her eyes had met mine again.

"They were breaking in the door," she began, "and he was going down to
meet them. I told him--I told him to go, to leave me, and take the paper.
He said--"

She paused again, watching me in vague embarrassment.

"He said he'd be damned if he would, Monsieur. He said he w