n one hand and a despatch-box in the other.
Then followed a nondescript female who charred about the house and did
scullery-work, and sometimes, in a borrowed dress, served at table. She
came enveloped in rugs and furs, and at every note of preparation for
departure Paul's heart beat faster. At last he could bear to look for
the last figure in the procession no longer, for he was bent on an
aspect of entire nonchalance, and the desolation of an actual farewell
struck more and more on his spirit as he waited.

At last the expected frou-frou, and the soft footfall of the
beautifully-shod feet, warned him of the Baroness's coming.

She paused in the hall to say a gracious word here and there, and to
press something of evidently unexpected value into the hands of the
attendant trio, for they all curtseyed low, and said, as if awestricken,
'Reellement, Madame la Baronne est trop bonne,' as if their strings had
been mechanically pulled, and they had been trained to speak the words
in unison.

Paul dared not turn his head, but the gracious little figure paused in
passing him. Madame la Baronne was richly befurred and so thickly veiled
that he could discern nothing, or little, apart from the sparkling
brightness of her eyes. She sprinkled her adieux around her in French
to an accompaniment of thanks and curtsies, but she spoke to Paul in
English.

'I am going to Venders,' she said, 'and I am afraid my studies will be
a little broken. In the meantime I will write to you and give you an
address, and I shall be glad if you will answer me.'

She held out her hand, and Paul held it for a mere instant, no
longer--he was careful of that--than the occasion would have demanded
had but the merest friendly acquaintance existed between them. He dared
not trust himself to speak, but he raised his hat and pressed the hand,
and the pressure was returned. Then the Baroness entered the carriage,
Victor cracked his whip impatiently, and the slow Flemish horses bowled
away, their hoof-beats silenced by the snow. They had reached the
corner, and in another instant would have been out of sight, when Paul
gave an artificial start, as if he had suddenly called to mind something
of importance, and dashed after the retreating carriage. He overtook it
easily enough, and, laying a hand upon it, ran alongside.

'This is not good-bye?'he said. 'Tell me that this is not good-bye.'

'I hope it is not good-bye,' she answered. 'But go now, dear heart, I