."

Rose sat down, very near--dangerously near--the owner of the eyes.

"May I ask the name of the young lady whom I have been fortunate enough
to assist."

"My name is Rosina--Rose Danton."

"Danton," repeated the young man slowly. "Danton; I know that name.
There is a place called Danton Hall over here--a fine old place, they
tell me--owned by one Captain Danton."

"I am Captain Danton's second daughter."

"Then, Miss Danton, I am very happy to make your acquaintance."

He held out his hand, gravely. Rose shook hands, laughing and blushing.

"I am much pleased to make yours, Mr. ----" laughing still, and looking
at him.

"Reinecourt," said the gentleman.

"Mr. Reinecourt; only I wish you had not sprained your ankle doing it."

"I don't regret it. But you are under an obligation to me, are you not?"

"Certainly."

"Then I mean to have a return for what you owe me. I want you to come
and see me every day until I get well."

Rose blushed vividly.

"Oh, I don't know. You exact too much!"

"Not a whit. I'll never fly to the rescue of another damsel in distress
as long as I live, if you don't."

"But every day! Once a week will be enough."

"If you insult me by coming once a week, I'll issue orders not to admit
you. Promise, Miss Danton; here comes Doctor Pillule."

"I promise, then. There, I never gave you permission to kiss my hand."

She arose precipitately, and stood looking out of the window, while the
Doctor attended to the sprain.

Nearly half an hour passed. The ankle was duly bathed and bandaged, then
old Jacques and the Doctor went away, and she came over and looked
laughingly down at the invalid, a world of coquettish daring in her
dancing eyes.

"Well, M. Reinecourt, when does M. le Medecin say you are going to die?"

"When you think of leaving me, Mademoiselle."

"Then summon your friends at once, for I not only think of it, but am
about to do it."

"Oh, not so soon."

"It is half-past two, Monsieur," pulling out her watch; "they will think
I am lost at home. I must go!"

"Well, shake hands before you go."

"It seems to me you are very fond of shaking hands, Mr. Reinecourt,"
said Rose, giving him hers willingly enough, though.

"And you really must leave me?"

"I really must."

"But you will come to-morrow?" still holding her hand.

"Perhaps so--if I have nothing better to do."

"You cannot do anything better than visit the sick, and oh, yes! do me
another favour. Fet