thought to his future line of conduct. At first he decided that it would
be best to avoid Sylvia altogether, and thus show her that she had
nothing to dread from him, for her sudden fear had been very hard to
bear; but before night another and wiser course presented itself to
him--the idea of going on exactly as if nothing had happened that was in
the least extraordinary, and prove to her that he was to be trusted.
Accordingly, assuming a calmness which he was very far from feeling, he
stopped at her door again before going upstairs, saying cheerfully:

"Tell me to go away if you want to; if not, I've come for my first
French lesson."

Sylvia looked up with a smile from the book she was reading. "Entrez,
monsieur," she said gayly; "avez-vous apporte votre livre, votre cahier,
et votre plume? Comment va l'oncle de votre ami? Le chat de votre mere,
est-il noir?"

Austin burst out laughing at her mimicry of the typical conversation in a
beginner's grammar, and she joined him. The critical moment had passed.
He saw that he was welcome, that he had risen and not fallen in her
regard, though he was far from guessing how much, and opening his book,
drew another chair near the fire and sat down beside her.

"You must have some romances as well as this dry stuff," she said, when
he had pegged away at Chardenal for over an hour. "We'll read Dumas
together, beginning with the Valois romances, and going straight along in
the proper order. You'll learn a lot of history, as well as considerable
French. Some of it is rather indiscreet but--"

"Which of us do you think it is most likely to shock?" he asked, with