it."

She laughed.

"I know you haven't! But you've missed a great deal, Robin!--you
have really! When I made up my mind to find out all the Sieur
Amadis had written, I got Priscilla to buy me a French dictionary
and grammar and some other French lesson-books besides--then I
spelt all the words carefully and looked them all up in the
dictionary, and learned the pronunciation from one of the lesson-
books--and by-and-bye it got quite easy. For two years at least it
was dreadfully hard work--but now--well!--I think I could almost
speak French if I had the chance!"

"I'm sure you could!" said Robin, looking at her, admiringly--
"You're a clever little girl and could do anything you wanted to."

Her brows contracted a little,--the easy lightness of his
compliment had that air of masculine indifference which is more
provoking to an intelligent woman than downright contradiction.
The smile lingered in her eyes, however,--a smile of mingled
amusement and compassion.

"Well, I wanted to understand the writing of the Sieur Amadis,"
she went on, quietly--"and when I could understand them I
translated them. So I can tell you the last words he wrote in his
journal--just before he married,--in fact on the very eve of his
marriage-day--" She paused abruptly, and looked for a moment at
the worn and battered tomb of the old knight, green with moss and
made picturesque by a trailing branch of wild roses that had