"

"Oh, I don't mind it at all, Celine. As I was saying, you seem quite a
superior young person, and no doubt I am not the first who has made
you a sort of _confidante_.

"Merci! no; my lady. _Madame Le Baronne_ used to trust me with
_everything_, and often deigned to ask my advice. But French ladies,
oui, mademoiselle, always put confidence in their maids. And a maid
will die rather than betray a good mistress--"

"Exactly, Celine--are you going to put my hair so high?"

"Very high, _miladi_."

"Oh, well; will it be becoming?"

"Oui; La mode la Francaise," relapsing into ecstacy and French. _"Le
coiffeur comme il faut! Chere amie, le-chef-a-oeuvre!_"

Miss Arthur collapsed, and Celine continued to build up an atrociously
unbecoming pile of puffs and curls in triumphant silence.

Celine never indulged in her native tongue, so she assured her
mistress, except when carried away by momentary enthusiasm, or
unwonted emotion. It was bad taste, she averred, and she desired to
cultivate the beautiful American language.

Presently Miss Arthur made another venture, feeling quite justified
in following in the footsteps of so august a personage as _Madame Le
Baronne_.

"Did you see Mr. Percy after you left Bellair?"

"No, mademoiselle."

"Did you observe if he returned in the same train with yourself?"

"No, mademoiselle." Then, with a meaning little laugh: "Monsieur will
not remain long from Oakley."

Miss Arthur tried to look unconscious, and succeeded in looking
idiotic.

"Pardon, mademoiselle, but I can't forget that night. Mademoiselle is
surely relieved of one fear."

"What is that?"

"The fear of being wooed because of her wealth."

Miss Arthur started, then said: "There may be something in that,
Celine; and it is not impossible that I may inherit more."

"Ah?" inquiringly.

"Yes. Possibly you have learned from the servants that Mr. Arthur lost
a young step-daughter not long ago; just before you came, in fact."

"I don't remember. Did she die, mademoiselle?"

"Yes. She was a very wild, unruly child, a regular little
heathen--oh!"

"Pardon, oh, pardon, did it hurt?" removing a long, spiky hair pin,
with much apparent solicitude.

"A--a little; yes. As I was saying, this ridiculous girl was sent to
school and no expense spared to make a lady of her."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; and then she rewards my brother for all his kindness by running
away."

"_Merci_, mademoiselle!" suddenly recalling her Fr