glad. We, too, can see the castle from a corner in the garden, and
we go there in the morning often--do we not, Ronald?--and we think
of you, M. de Saint-Yves; but I am afraid it does not altogether
make us glad.'

'Mademoiselle!' said I, and indeed my voice was scarce under
command, 'if you knew how your generous words--how even the sight
of you--relieved the horrors of this place, I believe, I hope, I
know, you would be glad. I will come here daily and look at that
dear chimney and these green hills, and bless you from the heart,
and dedicate to you the prayers of this poor sinner. Ah! I do not
say they can avail!'

'Who can say that, M. de Saint-Yves?' she said softly. 'But I
think it is time we should be going.'

'High time,' said Ronald, whom (to say the truth) I had a little
forgotten.

On the way back, as I was laying myself out to recover lost ground
with the youth, and to obliterate, if possible, the memory of my
last and somewhat too fervent speech, who should come past us but
the major? I had to stand aside and salute as he went by, but his
eyes appeared entirely occupied with Flora.

'Who is that man?' she asked.

'He is a friend of mine,' said I. 'I give him lessons in French,
and he has been very kind to me.'