as if to find out whether they had arrived at an
understanding. Then Browne advanced and took her hand.

"Madame," he said, "I have the honour to inform you that mademoiselle
has decided to be my wife."

"No, no," cried Katherine, as if in a last entreaty. "You must not say
that. I cannot let you say it."

Madame Bernstein took in the situation, and adapted herself to it
immediately. In her usual manner, she expressed her delight at the
arrangement they had come to. There was nothing like love, she
averred, in the world.

"I always hoped and prayed that it would be so," she went on to say.
"It has been my wish for years to see you happily married, Katherine.
Now I can feel that my work in life is done, and that I can go down to
my grave in peace, knowing that, whatever happens, you will be well
protected."

Could one have looked into her brain, I am inclined to believe it would
have been found that, while she gave expression to these beautiful
ideas, they were far from being a true record of her feelings. Such
sentiments, however, were the proper ones to use at that particular
moment, and, having given utterance to them, she felt that she had done
all that could reasonably be expected of her.

"With your permission, madame," said Browne, to whom the idea had only
that moment occurred, "Katherine and I will spend the whole of
to-morrow in the country together. I should like to take her to
Fontainebleau. As you are aware, there are a number of pictures there,
which, according to your own argument, it is only fit and proper I
should study in order to perfect myself on the subject of modern French
art."

After this Parthian shot, Madame, although she knew that such a
proposal was far from being in accordance with the notions of propriety
entertained by the parents and guardians of the country in which they
were at present domiciled, had no objection to raise. On the contrary,
she had her own reasons for not desiring to thwart Browne at the
commencement of his engagement, and just when he was likely to prove
most useful to her. Accordingly she expressed great delight at the
arrangement, and hoped that they would spend a happy day together.
Having said this, she wiped away an imaginary tear and heaved a sigh,
which, taken in conjunction, were doubtless intended to convey to the
young people the impression that she was dwelling on the recollection
of similar excursions in which she and the late lamented Ber