it came to
Elise. Her wise mind had seen the sure end; Elise's heart had felt it.

The avocat readily promised. She was to call for him at a little before
eight o'clock. But she decided that she would first seek Elise; before
she accused the man, she would question the woman. Above and beyond all
anger she felt at this miserable episode, there was pity in her heart
for the lonely girl. She was capable of fierce tempers, of great
caprices, of even wild injustice, when her emotions had their way
with her; but her heart was large, her nature deep and broad, and her
instincts kind. The little touch of barbarism in her gave her, too, a
sense of primitive justice. She was self-analytical, critical of life
and conduct, yet her mind and her heart, when put to the great test,
were above mere anatomising. Her rich nature, alive with these momentous
events, feeling the prescience of coming crisis, sent a fine glow into
her face, into her eyes. Excitement gave a fresh elasticity to her step.

In spite of her serious thoughts, she looked very young, almost
irresponsible. No ordinary observer could guess the mind that lay behind
the eloquent, glowing eyes. Even the tongue at first deceived, till it
began to probe, to challenge, to drop sharp, incisive truths in little
gold-leaped pellets, which brought conviction when the gold-leaf wore
off.

The sunlight made her part of the brilliant landscape, and she floated
into it, neither too dainty nor too luxurious. The greatest heat of the
day was past, and she was walking slowly under the maples, on the way
to Elise's home, when she was arrested by a voice near her. Then a tall
figure leaped the fence, and came to her with outstretched hand and an
unmistakable smile of pleasure.

"I've called at the Manor twice, and found you out; so I took to the
highway," said the voice gaily.

"My dear Seigneur," she answered, with mock gravity, "ancestors' habits
show in time."

"Come, that's severe, isn't it?"

"You have waylaid me in a lonely place, master highwayman!" she said,
with a torturing sweetness.

He had never seen her so radiantly debonnaire; yet her heart was full of
annoying anxiety.

"There's so much I want to say to you," he answered more seriously.

"So very much?"

"Very much indeed."

She looked up the road. "I can give you ten minutes," she said. "Suppose
we walk up and down under these trees. It is shady and quiet here. Now
proceed, monsieur. Is it my money or my