"I never thought of it," she replied, carelessly. "Agatha Thesiger is
only a school-girl."

"Then school-girls are very different from what I thought them," was my
reply, and mademoiselle turned away with a strange smile.




CHAPTER VI.


No matter what I did, that face was always before me. If I read it
looked up at me with sweet, serene eyes from the pages of my book. It
rose between me and the blue heavens. I saw it in every flower. It
haunted me until I could have cried out for respite from the pleasure
that was yet half pain.

Poets sing of the joy and the rapture of love. Who knows its pain? For
pain it surely is when no sleep comes near you, and the every-day duties
of life only weary you, and your sole desire is to dream over looks and
words you cannot forget. It is surely pain when a thousand doubts assail
you, when you weigh yourself in the balance and find yourself wanting.

A hundred times each day I found myself wondering whether Sir John would
think me good enough for his daughter. She was not his heiress, I knew,
for he had a son at college, but she was lovely, high-born,
accomplished, and my one great puzzle was whether he would think me a
good match for her.