with a sharp side-glance gauging my progress towards equanimity. Her own
was rapid; for Madame was a philosopher, and speedily accommodated herself
to circumstances. We had not walked a quarter of an hour when every trace
of gloom had left her face, which had assumed its customary brightness, and
she began to sing with a spiteful hilarity as we walked forward, and indeed
seemed to be approaching one of her waggish, frolicsome moods. But her fun
in these moods was solitary. The joke, whatever it was, remained in her
own keeping. When we approached the ruined brick tower--in old times a
pigeon-house--she grew quite frisky, and twirled her basket in the air, and
capered to her own singing.

Under the shadow of the broken wall, and its ivy, she sat down with a
frolicsome _plump_, and opened her basket, inviting me to partake, which
I declined. I must do her justice, however, upon the suspicion of poison,
which she quite disposed of by gobbling up, to her own share, everything
which the basket contained.

The reader is not to suppose that Madame's cheerful demeanour indicated
that I was forgiven. Nothing of the kind. One syllable more, on our walk
home, she addressed not to me. And when we reached the terrace, she said--

'You will please, Maud, remain for two--three minutes in the Dutch garden,
while I speak with Mr. Ruthyn in the study.'

This was spoken with a high head and an insufferable smile; and I more
haughtily, but quite gravely, turned without disputing, and descended the
steps to the quaint little garden she had indicated.

I was surprised and very glad to see my father there. I ran to him, and
began, 'Oh! papa!' and then stopped short, adding only, 'may I speak to you