ture would have grown jealous
of our good-humor--of our tranquil happiness. And after all, here we are
together again--that is, some of us. But I have only my own audacity
to thank for it. I was quite free to believe that you were not at all
pleased to see me re-appear--and it is only because I am not easy to
discourage--am indeed probably a rather impudent fellow--that I have
ventured to come here to-day."

"I am very glad to see you re-appear, Mr. Longueville," Mrs. Vivian
declared with the accent of veracity.

"It was your daughter's idea, then, running away from Blanquais?"

Mrs. Vivian lowered her eyes.

"We were obliged to go to Fontainebleau. We have but just come back. I
thought of writing to you," she softly added.

"Ah, what pleasure that would have given me!"

"I mean, to tell you where we were, and that we should have been so
happy to see you."

"I thank you for the intention. I suppose your daughter would n't let
you carry it out."

"Angela is so peculiar," Mrs. Vivian said, simply.

"You told me that the first time I saw you."

"Yes, at Siena," said Mrs. Vivian.

"I am glad to hear you speak frankly of that place!"

"Perhaps it 's better," Mrs. Vivian murmured. She got up and went to the
window; then stepping upon the balcony, she looked down a moment into
the street. "She will come back in a moment," she said, coming into the
room again. "She has gone to see a friend who lives just beside us. We
don't mind about Siena now," she added, softly.

Bernard understood her--understood this to be a retraction of the
request she had made of him at Baden.

"Dear little woman," he said to himself, "she wants to marry her
daughter still--only now she wants to marry her to me!"

He wished to show her that he understood her, and he was on the point of
seizing her hand, to do he did n't know what--to hold it, to press it,
to kiss it--when he heard the sharp twang of the bell at the door of the
little apartment.

Mrs. Vivian fluttered away.

"It 's Angela," she cried, and she stood there waiting and listening,
smiling at Bernard, with her handkerchief pressed to her lips.

In a moment the girl came into the drawing-room, but on seeing Bernard
she stopped, with her hand on the door-knob. Her mother went to her and
kissed her.

"It 's Mr. Longueville, dearest--he has found us out."

"Found us out?" repeated Angela, with a little laugh. "What a singular
expression!"

She was blushing as she had b