e, and on the feelings which he had been
fortunate enough to awaken in this best and sweetest of girls.

"_Eh bien_, and what have you done then?" she inquired eagerly. "It was
a difficult position. What have you done?"

"Oh, I did nothing. I came away!" said Bridgie, as simply as if that
were not just the most difficult thing she could have done under the
circumstances. "The next morning he went out shooting, and the post
came in at ten o'clock with a letter from father saying that Pat had
fallen from the barn and twisted his ankle. It was very few weeks he
did not fall from the barn, as a matter of fact, but it was an excuse,
so I said I must go home and nurse him, and they drove me to the station
that very afternoon before the men came home."

Mademoiselle drew in her breath, in a gasp of amazement. She looked at
Bridgie, and her eyes flashed with eloquent comment. It was so
wonderful to think of the courage with which this young thing, with the
bright, pleasure-loving nature which had come to her as an inheritance,
had yet had the courage to deliberately put from her the greatest
happiness which she could have known, in order to devote herself to the
care of others. The simple, unpretentious manner in which the tale was
told, made so light of the incident that it might have involved little
or no suffering; but Mademoiselle knew better, and her voice trembled
with sympathy as she put the low-toned question--

"And afterwards--did it hurt--did it hurt very much, _cherie_?"

"I think it did. I cried a great deal for several nights when I thought
of the good times they were all having together; but I knew it would
have been worse later on, and I comforted myself with that. Besides,
what is the use of giving up a thing at all if one can't do it
cheerfully? It would have been better for me to have married and left
home, than to stay, and make them all miserable by moping and looking
sad. And they are all such darlings, and so loving and kind. I don't
think any other girl ever had such a family as mine!"

"The Major ignores you; the boys worry you to death; my lady Joan orders
you about as if she were a queen, and you her servant; only the little
Pixie worships you as you deserve to be worshipped," reflected
Mademoiselle mentally; but she kept her reflections to herself, and
asked another question, the answer to which she was longing to hear with
truly feminine curiosity. "And was that all,--the end of e