sending your note by
courier to the Indian dockman at Elizabethport, addressed Robin
Adair, Box 40, St. Hiliere, Canada. And the love of all to all.
Adieu.

"Your loving
"LOUISON.

"P.S. Can you tell me, is the captain of noble birth? I have
never had any doubt of it, he is so splendid."

It filled me with a great happiness and a bitter pang. I was never
in such a conflict of emotion.

"Well," said Therese, "do you see my trouble? Having shown you the
first letter, I had also to show you the second. I fear I have
done wrong. My soul--"

"Be blessed for the good tidings," I interrupted.

"Thanks. I was going to say it accuses me. Louison is a proud
girl; she must never know. She can never know unless--"

"You tell her," said I, quickly. "And of course you will."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"That every secret that must not be told is the same as published
if--if--"

"If _what_?"

"If--if it tells a pretty story with some love in it," I said, with
a quick sense of caution. "Ah, ma'm'selle, do I not know what has
made your lips so red?"

"What may it be?"

"The attrition of many secrets--burning secrets," I said, laughing.

"Mordieu! what charming impudence!" said she, her large eyes
glowing thoughtfully, with some look of surprise. "You do not know
me, m'sieur. I have kept many secrets and know the trick."

"Ah, then I shall ask of you a great favor," said I--"that you keep
my secret also, that you do not tell her of my love."

She wheeled her horse with a merry peal of laughter, hiding her
face, now red as her glove.

"It is too late," said she, "I have written her."

We rode on, laughing. In spite of the serious character of her
words, I fell a-quaking from crown to stirrup. I was now engaged
to Louison, or as good as that, and, being a man of honor, I must
think no more of her sister.

"I wrote her of your confession," said she, "for I knew it would
make her so happy; but, you know, I did not tell of--of the
circumstances."

"Well, it will make it all the easier for me," I said.
"Ma'm'selle, I assure you--I am not sorry."

"And, my friend, you are lucky: she is so magnificent."

"Her face will be a study when I tell her."

"The splendor of it!" said she.

"And the surprise," I added, laughing.

"Ah, m'sieur, she will play her part well. She is clever. That
moment when the true love comes and claims her it is the sweetest
in a woman's life."

A thought