that this particular Amaryllis was not
to be won so. As he received the coffee from her hand he remarked,
mischievously, "Marquise, you did not quite complete the story. What
became of the forget-me-nots he gathered?"

But the Marquise only laughed.

"We are no longer in the confessional, Monsieur," she said.

CHAPTER IV.

Mrs. McVeigh found herself thinking of the young Marquise very often.
She was not pleased at the story with which she had been entertained
there; yet was she conscious of the fact that she would have been very
much more displeased had the story been told by any other than the
fascinating girl-widow.

"Do you observe," she remarked to the Countess Helene, "that young
though she is she seems to have associated only with elderly
people, or with books where various questions were discussed? It
is a pity. She has been robbed of childhood and girlhood by the
friends who are so proud of her, and who would make of her only a
lovely thinking-machine."

"You do not then approve of the strong-minded woman, the female
philosopher."

"Oh, yes;" replied Mrs. McVeigh, dubiously; "but this delightful
creature does not belong to that order yet. She is bubbling over with
enthusiasm for the masses because she has not yet been touched by
enthusiasm for an individual. I wish she would fall in love with some
fine fellow who would marry her and make her life so happy she would
forget all the bad laws of nations and the bad morals of the world."

"Hum! I fancy suitors have not been lacking. Her income is no
trifle."

"In our country a girl like that would need no income to insure her
desirable suitors. She is the most fascinating creature, and so
unconscious of her charms."

Her son, who had been at a writing desk in the corner, laid down his
pen and turned around.

"My imperfect following of your rapid French makes me understand at
least that this is a serious case," he said, teasingly. "Are you sure,
mother, that she has not treated you to enchantment? I heard the same
lady described a few days ago, and the picture drawn was that of an
atheistical revolutionist, an unlovely and unlovable type."

"Ah!" said the Countess Helene. "You also are opposed to beautiful
machines that think."

"I have never been accustomed to those whose thoughts follow such
unpleasant lines, Madame," he replied. "I have been taught to revere
the woman whose foundation of life is the religion scorned by the lady
you are d