heart was large, her nature deep and broad, and her instincts kind. The
little touch of barbarism in her gave her, too, a sense of primitive
justice. She was self-analytical, critical of life and conduct, yet her
mind and her heart, when put to the great test, were above mere
anatomising. Her rich nature, alive with these momentous events, feeling
the prescience of coming crisis, sent a fine glow into her face, into her
eyes. Excitement gave a fresh elasticity to her step.

In spite of her serious thoughts, she looked very young, almost
irresponsible. No ordinary observer could guess the mind that lay behind
the eloquent, glowing eyes. Even the tongue at first deceived, till it
began to probe, to challenge, to drop sharp, incisive truths in little
gold-leaped pellets, which brought conviction when the gold-leaf wore
off.

The sunlight made her part of the brilliant landscape, and she floated
into it, neither too dainty nor too luxurious. The greatest heat of the
day was past, and she was walking slowly under the maples, on the way to
Elise's home, when she was arrested by a voice near her. Then a tall
figure leaped the fence, and came to her with outstretched hand and an
unmistakable smile of pleasure.

"I've called at the Manor twice, and found you out; so I took to the
highway," said the voice gaily.

"My dear Seigneur," she answered, with mock gravity, "ancestors' habits
show in time."

"Come, that's severe, isn't it?"