irst one and then the other.

"You have made me your knight," he said. "Let me never forget it. I am a
knight of the Legion of Honor. I shall carry this cross about me always
to remind me of it. Thank you, and bless you, Christine."

Then he dropped her hands, and they sat down and fell to talking. For
the first time in his recent intercourse with her she was able to speak
of general subjects. There was a momentary lull in her anxiety about
the baby, and in her release from that recent and heavy burden she felt
a rebound from the more remote causes of unhappiness too. So they got
into a talk that was easy and almost bright. They spoke together of
foreign lands familiar to them both, of music and painting, and all the
things from which her present life divided her so completely that, as
Christine said presently, it was like recalling dreams. And then in the
midst of it Dallas came in, with his slovenly dress and horrible pipe,
and Christine, with an awful look of recollectedness, came back to
reality. It was impossible to take this man into a talk like theirs, and
Noel quickly said good-night.

IX.

The next day and the next Christine went to the studio, and the sittings
passed in almost total silence. It had become more than ever impossible
for them to speak to each other, and they both realized it. Then came
a day on which Noel waited in vain for Christine. When morning and
afternoon were passed and he got no tidings he could bear the suspense
no longer, and went to the house to inquire. Old Eliza, the negro
servant, opened the door for him and told him the baby was dying. His
heart grew cold within him. What would Christine do? How could she bear
it? He asked if the doctor had been, and was told he was now up-stairs.
He inquired for Dallas. "Gone to walk," Eliza said with contempt, and
then added that "He might as well be one place as another, as he didn't
do no good nowhar."

Noel saw the doctor, an elderly, capable, decided man, who, as he soon
found, took in the whole situation and sympathized with Christine as
heartily as he excoriated her husband. Noel said he was an old friend of
Christine's, who was anxious to do all that was possible for her, and
had the satisfaction of seeing that he had inspired Dr. Belford with
confidence in him. He soon saw that it was unnecessary to ask the good
physician to see that her wants and those of the child were supplied, as
his own sympathies were thoroughly enliste