st to prevent her seeing
how much he was suffering. After this massage treatment, the young
girl bandaged the ankle tightly with the linen bands, and fastened them
securely with pins.

"There," said she, "now try to put on your shoe and stocking; they will
give support to the muscles. Now you, Zelie, run, fit to break your
neck, to the farm, make them harness the wagon, and tell them to bring
it here, as close to the path as possible."

The girl picked up her basket and started on a trot.

"Monsieur de Buxieres;" said Reine, "do you think you can walk as far as
the carriage road, by leaning on my arm?"

"Yes;" he replied, with a grateful glance which greatly embarrassed
Mademoiselle Vincart, "you have relieved me as if by a miracle. I feel
much better and as if I could go anywhere you might lead, while leaning
on your arm!"

She helped him to rise, and he took a few steps with her aid.

"Why, it feels really better," sighed he.

He was so happy in feeling himself thus tenderly supported by Reine,
that he altogether forgot his pain.

"Let us walk slowly," continued she, "and do not be afraid to lean on
me. All you have to think of is reaching the carriage."

"How good you are," stammered he, "and how ashamed I am!"

"Ashamed of what?" returned Reine, hastily. "I have done nothing
extraordinary; anyone else would have acted in the same manner."

"I entreat you," replied he, earnestly, "not to spoil my happiness. I
know very well that the first person who happened to pass would have
rendered me some charitable assistance; but the thought that it is
you--you alone--who have helped me, fills me with delight, at: the same
time that it increases my remorse. I so little deserve that you should
interest yourself in my behalf!"

He waited, hoping perhaps that she would ask for an explanation, but,
seeing that she did not appear to understand, he added:

"I have offended you. I have misunderstood you, and I have been cruelly
punished for my mistake. But what avails my tardy regret in healing
the injuries I have inflicted! Ah! if one could only go backward, and
efface, with a single stroke, the hours in which one has been blind and
headstrong!"

"Let us not speak of that!" replied she, shortly, but in a singularly
softened tone.

In spite of herself, she was touched by this expression of repentance,
so naively acknowledged in broken, disconnected sentences, vibrating
with the ring of true sincerity. In proportion