had come to speak to her in order to
tell her that he was going away, and yet, at the end of five minutes,
he had asked leave to come and see her. This sudden gyration of mind
was grotesque, and Bernard knew it; but, nevertheless, he had an immense
expectation that, if he should give her time, she would manifest some
curiosity as to his own situation. He tried to give her time; he held
his tongue; but she continued to say nothing. They passed along a sort
of winding lane, where two or three fishermen's cottages, with old brown
nets suspended on the walls and drying in the sun, stood open to the
road, on the other side of which was a patch of salt-looking grass,
browsed by a donkey that was not fastidious.

"It 's so long since we parted, and we have so much to say to each
other!" Bernard exclaimed at last, and he accompanied this declaration
with a laugh much more spontaneous than the one he had given a few
moments before.

It might have gratified him, however, to observe that his companion
appeared to see no ground for joking in the idea that they should have a
good deal to say to each other.

"Yes, it 's a long time since we spent those pleasant weeks at Baden,"
she rejoined. "Have you been there again?"

This was a question, and though it was a very simple one, Bernard was
charmed with it.

"I would n't go back for the world!" he said. "And you?"

"Would I go back? Oh yes; I thought it so agreeable."

With this he was less pleased; he had expected the traces of resentment,
and he was actually disappointed at not finding them. But here was the
little house of which his companion had spoken, and it seemed, indeed, a
rather bad one. That is, it was one of those diminutive structures which
are known at French watering-places as "chalets," and, with an exiguity
of furniture, are let for the season to families that pride themselves
upon their powers of contraction. This one was a very humble specimen of
its class, though it was doubtless a not inadequate abode for two quiet
and frugal women. It had a few inches of garden, and there were flowers
in pots in the open windows, where some extremely fresh white curtains
were gently fluttering in the breath of the neighboring ocean. The
little door stood wide open.

"This is where we live," said Angela; and she stopped and laid her hand
upon the little garden-gate.

"It 's very fair," said Bernard. "I think it 's better than the
pastry-cook's at Baden."

They stood