is working
for France."

He spoke of the marquis as her father; he always should as long
as she lived. He said, too, that the marquis was labouring for
France. So he was; but France would never see the terrible war
engine, nor know the secrets of its management, as long as
Napoleon III. was struggling to keep his family in the high
places of France.

"Good-by," he said again. "I shall be back by sundown."

Lorraine leaned over the terrace, looking down at him with blue,
fathomless eyes.

"By sundown?"

"Yes."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

"Tiens ta Foy."

"Always, Lorraine."

She did not chide him; she longed to call him Jack, but it stuck
in her white throat when she tried.

"If you do not come back by sundown, then I shall know you
cannot," she said.

"But I shall."

"Yes, I believe it."

"Come after me if I don't return," he laughed, as he descended
the steps.

"I shall, if you break your faith," she smiled.

She watched him out of sight--he was going on foot this
time--then the trees hid him, and she turned back into the house,
where Madame de Morteyn was preparing to close the Chateau for
the winter and return to Paris.

It was the old vicomte who had decided; he had stayed and faced
the music as long as there was any to face--Prussian music, too.
But now the Prussians had passed on towards Metz--towards Paris,
also, perhaps, and he wished to be there; it was too sad in the
autumn of Lorraine.

He had aged fearfully in the last four days; he was in truth an old
man now. Even he knew it--he who had never before acknowledged age;
but he felt it at night; for it is when day is ended that the old
comprehend how old they are.

This was to be Lorraine's last night at Morteyn; in the morning
Jack was to drive her back to her father and then return to
Morteyn to accompany his uncle and aunt to Paris. The old people
once settled in Paris with Dorothy and Betty Castlemaine, and
surrounded by friends again, Jack would take leave of them and
return to Morteyn with one servant. This he had promised
Lorraine, and she had not said no. His aunt also wished it, but
she did not think it time yet to tell the vicomte.

The servants, with the exception of one maid and the coachman,
had gone in the morning, by way of Vigny, with the luggage. The
vicomte and his wife were to travel by carriage to Passy-le-Sel,
and from there, via Belfort, if the line were open, to Paris by
rail. Jack, it had been arranged, was to