conversation with me that at once increased my admiration and awakened
my pity. For I saw that his nature was strong and his feelings deep, and
as the future could have nothing but shame and misery, I instinctively
felt oppressed by the fate which awaited him.

He did not seem to feel any apprehension himself. His eyes were bright;
his smile beaming; his bearing full of hope. Now and then his glance
would steal toward the door or through the open windows, as if he longed
to catch a glimpse of some passing face or form; and at last, swayed by
that sympathy which we women all feel for true love in man or woman, I
asked him to accompany me into the garden, promising him a view that
would certainly delight him. As the garden was plainly visible from the
oak parlor, you can readily understand to what view I alluded. But he
had no suspicion of my meaning, and followed me with some reluctance.

But his aspect changed materially when, in walking up and down the
paths, I casually remarked:

"This is the least inhabited side of the inn. Only one room is occupied,
and that by two foreigners--Madame and Mademoiselle Letellier. Yet it
has a pleasant outlook, as you yourself can see."

"Is she--are they behind those windows?" he asked, with an impetuosity I
could not but admire in a man with so much to recommend him to the
consideration of others. "I beg your pardon," he added, a moment later,
after a stolen glance at the house. "I know those ladies, and anything
in connection with them is interesting to me."

I believed it, and had hard work to hide my secret trouble. But his
preoccupation assisted me, and at length I found courage to remark:

"They are from Paris, I understand. A fine woman, Madame Letellier. Must
be much admired in her own land?"

He seemed to have no reason for resenting my curiosity.

"She is," was his quick reply. "She is not only admired, but respected.
I have never heard her name mentioned but with honor. I am happy to be
known as her friend."

I gave him one quick look. Good God! What lay before this man! And he so
unconscious! I felt like wishing the inn would fall to atoms before our
eyes, crushing beneath it the sin of the past and his false hopes for
the future. He saw nothing. He was smiling upon a rose which he had
plucked and was holding in his hand.

"This inn is one of the antiquities," I now observed, anxious to know if
any hint of its secrets had ever reached his ears. "They say it is on