ting in the eyes to which hers were raised so imploringly, or a
_something_ even more encouraging in their expression, or in the
pressure of the hands which clasped hers, upraised in the vehemence of
supplication, certain it is that she stopped short in the middle of a
sentence--with a tear in her eye and a blush on her cheek, and something
like a dawning smile on the lip that still quivered with emotion, and
that "Le bon Walter" magnanimously illustrated by his conduct the
hackneyed maxim, that
"Forgiveness to the injured doth belong,"--
and that plenary absolution, and perfect reconciliation, _were_ granted
and effected, may be fairly inferred from the testimony of the miller's
wife, who, still lingering at the threshold when the grey twilight was
brightening into cloudless moonlight, spied Walter and Madelaine
advancing slowly down the dark chestnut avenue, so intent in earnest
conversation (doubtless on grave and weighty matters), that they passed
through the gate, and by the door where she stood, without once looking
to the right or left, or, in consequence, observing their old friend as
she stept forward to exchange the evening salutation. The same deponent,
moreover, testified, that (from no motive of curiosity, but motherly
concern for the safety of Madelaine, should Walter, striking off into
the road to Caen, leave her at that late hour to pursue her solitary
way through the Manoir) she took heed to their further progress, and
ascertained, to her entire satisfaction, that so far from unknightly
desertion of his fair charge, Walter (seemingly inclined to protect his
guardianship to the last possible moment) accompanied her through her
home domain till quite within sight of the Chateau, and even there
lingered so long in his farewell, that it might have tired out the
patience of the miller's wife, if the supper-bell had not sounded from
the mansion, and broken short as kind a leave-taking as ever preceded
the separation of dearest friends.
It must be quite needless to say, that Walter Barnard appeared not that
night at the Chateau de St Hilaire, where his return to Normandy was of
course equally unknown with his late visit to the pavilion. Great was
the wrath of the lovely Adrienne, when, on her return thither, soon
after the expiration of the time she had allotted for the performance of
Madelaine's task, she found _la place vide_--that the daring impertinent
had not only taken the liberty of departing
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