e of night? It is nearly
eleven o'clock, and she can hardly keep her eyes open."

"My eyes are wide, wide open, Uncle Charles," exclaimed
Madelon, indignantly; "I'm not a bit tired, but I don't want
to go out now."

"Monsieur will perhaps join our party," said Monsieur Linders,
very politely. "I should be delighted to try my luck with a
fresh adversary."

"Thank you," said Graham, "but I hardly ever touch cards."
Then turning to Madelon, he added, "I must go away now, since
you will not come for a walk. Won't you wish me good-bye? I
shall not be here to-morrow."

She turned round and put her little hand into his for a
moment; then with a sudden shy caprice snatched it away, and
hid her face on her father's shoulder, just peeping at him
with her bright eyes. But she started up again suddenly as he
was leaving the room, calling out "_Adieu, Monsieur, bon
voyage_," and kissing her hand to him. He smiled and nodded in
return, bowed to M. Linders, and so went away. There was a
moment's silence after he went, and then, "You have made a
fine acquaintance this evening, Madelon," said her uncle.

Madelon made a little _moue_, but did not answer.

"Are you then mad, Adolphe," he said again, "that you permit
Madeleine to pick up an acquaintance with anyone who chooses
to speak to her? An Englishman too!"

"Papa is not mad," cried Madelon, between whom and her uncle
there was apparently a standing skirmish. "He was a very kind
gentleman, and I like him very much; he gave me this little
goldfish, and I shall keep it always, always," and she kissed
it with effusion.

"Bah!" said M. Linders, "English or French, it is all one to
me; and what harm could he do to the little one? It was an
accident, but it does not matter for once. Come, Madelon, you
have forgotten to mark."

"It is your turn to deal next, papa," said the child, "may I
do it for you?"

Horace Graham left Chaudfontaine by the earliest train the
following morning; and of all the people he had seen on that
Sunday evening at the hotel, only two ever crossed his path
again in after years--M. Linders, and his little daughter,
Madeleine.

CHAPTER IV.

Retrospect.

M. Linders was of both Belgian and French extraction, his
father having been a native of Liege, his mother a Parisian of
good family, who, in a moment of misplaced sentiment, as she
was wont in after years to sigh, had consented to marry a
handsome young Belgian officer, and had expiated her