ently from mademoiselle, and a mention of eight
o'clock, followed by remorse from Kitty.

"Eight o'clock! And I keep you like this. I am a brute beast!
Allez--allez vite!" And quick steps scudded across the floor above,
followed by the shutting of a door.

Kitty, however, came back to the window, and Ashe could still hear her
sighing and talking to herself.

What had she been plotting? A letter? Conveyed by mademoiselle? To whom?

* * * * *

Long after all sounds above had ceased Ashe still lay awake, thinking of
the story he had heard from Lord Grosville. Certainly, if he had known
it, he would never have gone familiarly to Madame d'Estrees' house.
Laxity, for a man of his type, is one thing; lying, meanness, and
cruelty are another. What could be done for this poor child in her
strange and sinister position? He was ironically conscious of a sudden
heat of missionary zeal. For if the creature to be saved had not
possessed such a pair of eyes--so slim a neck--such a haunting and
teasing personality--what then?

The question presently plunged with him into sleep. But he had not
forgotten it when he awoke.

* * * * *

He had just finished dressing next morning, when he chanced to see from
the front window of his room, which commanded the main stretch of the
park, the figure of a lady on one of the paths. She seemed to be
returning from the farther end of a long avenue, and was evidently
hurrying to reach the house. As she approached, however, she turned
aside into a shrubbery walk and was soon lost to view. But Ashe had
recognized Mademoiselle D. The matter of the letter recurred to him. He
guessed that she had already delivered it. But where?

At breakfast Lady Kitty did not appear. Ashe made inquiries of the
younger Miss Grosville, who replied with some tartness that she supposed
Kitty had a cold, and hurried off herself to dress for Sunday-school. It
was not at all the custom for young ladies to breakfast in bed on
Sundays at Grosville Park, and Lady Grosville's brow was clouded. Ashe
felt it a positive effort to tell her that he was not going to church,
and when she had marshalled her flock and carried them off, those left
behind knew themselves, indeed, as heathens and publicans.

Ashe wandered out with some official papers and a pipe into the spring
sunshine. Mr. Kershaw, the editor, would gladly have caught him for a
political talk. But Ashe