her, you know."

"Perhaps. But now I'll just tell you how they are at home. Then you
must be quiet, and, as I crossed in the night, I shall be glad of a
rest too. I can stay in here quietly beside you."

Miss Britton having had a little experience in sickness, saw that,
though probably there was no need for anxiety, Barbara was certainly
_ill_. She felt more reassured after she had seen the doctor, who she
allowed "seemed sensible enough for a Frenchman," and wrote her
sister-in-law a cheery letter, saying the girl had probably been doing
too much, and had felt the strain of the affair of the "solicitor" more
than they had realised.

"The doctor says it is a kind of low fever," she told the Mortons; "but
_I_ say, heat, smells, and fussiness."

After a few days' experience, she owned that the Loires were certainly
not lacking in kindness, but still she did not care to stay there very
long; and she told Denys Morton that she had never been so polite,
under provocation, in her life before. The uncle and nephew, who had
not yet moved on, did not speak of continuing their travels for the
present, and Miss Britton was very glad to know they were in the town.

One of Barbara's regrets was that she had missed seeing the meeting
between Mr. Morton and her aunt, and that she was perhaps keeping the
latter from enjoying as much of his company as she might otherwise have
done. There were many things she wanted to do with Miss Britton when
allowed to get up, but in the meanwhile she had to content herself with
talking about them. She was much touched by the attention of
Mademoiselle Vire, who sent round by Jeannette wonderful home-made
dainties that, as Barbara explained to her aunt, "she ought to have
been eating herself."

A fortnight after Miss Britton's arrival Barbara was allowed to go
downstairs, and, after having once been out, her health came back "like
a swallow's flight," as Mademoiselle Therese poetically, though a
little ambiguously, described it. She and her aunt spent as much time
out of doors as possible, going for so many excursions that Barbara
began to know the country round quite well; but, though many of the
drives were beautiful, none seemed to equal the one she had had with
Mademoiselle Vire, which was a thing apart.

They drove to La Guimorais again one afternoon, and on their return the
girl told Denys Morton, who had been with them, the story of the
_manoir_. He was silent for a little at th