daughter parted for the night with a colder kiss than
usual, and half an hour later, when Madame was at her prayers, a
swift white form hurried into the room, held her for a moment in a
quick embrace, and was gone before Madame could rise from her knees.

On the following afternoon, some hours after my departure, Isabella
came to Hopton; and the dear friends, between whom there had never
been a difference, had, as it appeared, a quarrel which sent Isabella
home with close-pressed lips, and hurried Lucille to her room, her
eyes angry and tearful. But the subject of the disagreement was not
myself--nor, indeed, was any definite explanation ever given as to why
the two fell out.

Chapter XXIII

Wrecked

"Il ne faut confier son secret qu' a celui qui n'a pas
cherche a le deviner."

"I do not care whether Paris is in the hands of the Communards or the
other bunglers so long as the Bank of France holds good," said John
Turner; and, indeed, I afterwards learnt that his whole fortune
depended on this turn of the wheel.

We were travelling down to Hopton, and it was the last week of May. We
bore to Madame de Clericy the news that at last the government troops
had made their entry into Paris and were busy fighting in the streets
there, hunting from pillar to post the remnant of the Communard
rabble. The reign of terror which had lasted two and a half months was
ended, and Paris lay like a ship that having passed through a great
storm lies at last in calm water, battered and beaten. Priceless
treasures had perished by the incendiarism of the wild mob--the
Tuileries were burnt, the Louvre had barely escaped a like fate. The
matchless Hotel de Ville had vanished, and a thousand monuments and
relics were lost for ever. Paris would never be the same again.
Anarchy had swept across it, razing many buildings and crushing out
not a few of those qualities of good taste and feeling which had
raised Frenchmen to the summit of civilisation before the Empire fell.

John Turner was in good humour, for he had just learnt that, owing to
the wit and nerve of one man, the Bank of France had stood untouched.
With it was saved the house of Turner & Co., of Paris and London. The
moment my friend's affairs were on a safe footing he placed himself at
my service to help with the Vicomtesse de Clericy's more complicated
difficulties. I was glad to avail myself of the assistance of one
whose name was a by-word for rectitude and