in her pretty little head she
was already planning certain alterations in the arrangement of the
furniture, to make it more comfortable to the very different tastes of
the new comer.

Still, she was truly sorry to lose her friend the _Hibou_, although she
had not been able to fulfil her mother's wish, and make him fall in
love with her, or even to fall in love with him herself. As she
explained to Madame Boiset, it was of no use to try, since between
their natures there were fixed not only a great gulf, but several whole
ranges of the Alps, and whereas the _Hibou_ sat gazing at the stars
from their topmost peak, she was picking flowers in the plain and
singing as she picked them.

The Pasteur did not make matters better by the extremely forced gaiety
of his demeanour. He told stories and cracked bad jokes in the
intervals of congratulating Godfrey at his release from so dull a place
as Kleindorf. Godfrey said little or nothing, but reflected to himself
that the Pasteur did not know Monk's Acre.

At last the moment came, and he departed with a heavy heart, for he had
learned to love these simple, kindly folk, especially the Pasteur. How
glad he was when it was over and he had lost sight of the handkerchiefs
that were being waved at him from the gate as the hired vehicle rolled
away. Not that it was quite over, for the Pasteur accompanied him to
the station, in order, as he said, to take his last instructions about
the Villa Ogilvy, although, in truth, Godfrey had none to give.

"Please do what you think best," was all that he could say. Also, when
several miles further on, they came to a turn in the road, there,
panting on a rock, stood Juliette, who had reached the place, running
at full speed, by a short cut through the woods. They had no time to
stop, because the Pasteur thought that they were late for the train,
which, as a matter of fact, did not leave for half-an-hour after they
reached the station. So they could only make mutual signals of
recognition and farewell. Juliette, who looked as though she were
crying, kissed her hand to him, calling out:

"Adieu, adieu! _cher ami_," while he sought refuge in the Englishman's
usual expedient of taking off his hat.

"It is nothing, nothing," said the Pasteur, who had also noted
Juliette's tear-swollen eyes, "to-morrow she will have Jules to console
her, a most worthy young man, though me he bores."

Here, it may be added, that Jules consoled her so well, that with