“Amaury had already gone, in order, no doubt, that he might return the sooner, but one could see by Madeleine’s beaming face, which was radiant with happiness, that he had only just that moment left her.

  “Dear child! she says she has never felt better in all her life.

  “Have I indeed been mistaken, and is this love destined to strengthen her feeble constitution, which I had so greatly feared it might crush? Nature has its depths, into which the most practised eye and the deepest learning can never penetrate.

  “All day long I had dwelt on the thought of the happiness which I had in store for them; I was like a child overjoyed at the idea of surprising someone whom he loves, and who has the secret for ever on the tip of his tongue. So, to avoid the temptation to tell Madeleine all about it, I left her in the drawing-room, and went out into the garden. She had sat down to the piano, and as I walked about, the music she played was borne faintly to my ears, and this melody coming straight from my child’s soul, entered into mine.

  “This continued for about a quarter-of- an-hour; I found pleasure in going farther away and then again drawing nearer to these entrancing harmonies.

  “On reaching the extreme end of the garden the music was almost inaudible, though notwithstanding the distance the high notes still faintly reached me; then when I drew nearer and re-entered the, circle of harmony, the melody rose and fell as I advanced or retreated.

  “Night was gradually coming on, enveloping all things in its friendly darkness.

  “Suddenly the music ceased. I smiled to myself; Amaury had come.

  “I turned to retrace my steps to the drawing-room, but took a different path, a more lonely one which ran along the wall.

  “Here I came across Antoinette, seated on a bench, deep in thought. For the last two days I had been wishing to speak to her privately; so thinking this a favourable opportunity, I sat down beside her.

  “Dear Antoinette! I had often felt that her presence would somewhat mar the delightful trio to which I had so looked forward, that the warm affection of so close an intimacy did not allow of any witness, whosoever it might be, and that the journey would be all the more enjoyable if Antoinette were not of the party.

  “Still, I had no intention of leaving the dear child here alone; I could not go away comfortably until her future were assured, until she also was surrounded by the same affection to which we three, Madeleine, Amaury and I, owed our happiness. I love the child; moreover I loved my sister too dearly to act differently. Therefore, just as I had arranged everything for Amaury and Madeleine, so I had settled matters for Antoinette.

  “She looked up on seeing me, smiled and held out her hand.

  “‘Well! dear uncle,’ she said, ‘did I not foretell that in their happiness you would find your own? Have not my words come true? Are you not happy?’

  “‘Yes! my dear child,’ I replied, ‘but that they and I should be happy is not all-sufficient; we must see that you are happy too?’

  “‘Well, dear uncle, and so I am; what can I desire more? You love me as a father, Madeleine and Amaury as a sister; what more can I ask?’

  “‘Someone who will give you a husband’s love, dear niece, and this ‘someone ‘I have found.’

  “‘My dear uncle! ‘Antoinette exclaimed, in a tone which seemed to forbid any further discussion on the subject.

  “‘Listen to what I have to say, Antoinette, and then you will give me your answer.’

  “‘What is it, uncle?’

  “‘You know Monsieur Jules Raymond?’

  “‘The young solicitor who is your man of business?’

  “‘Yes! what do you think of him?’

  “‘I think him charming — as a solicitor, dear uncle.’

  “‘Come, do not jest, Antoinette. Do you feel any repugnance towards this young man?’

  “‘Dear uncle, it is only such as love, who can experience the reverse of that I passion; and as I love no one in particular, to me all men are equally indifferent.’

  “‘Listen, dear, Monsieur Jules Raymond came to see me yesterday, and if you are indifferent to him, he, at any rate, is not indifferent to you. Monsieur Jules Raymond is one of those men whose future is assured, because it lies in their own hands. And he asks to share this future with you. — He knows that you have a marriage portion of two hundred thousand francs, and--’

  “‘My dear uncle!’ interrupted Antoinette, ‘you are in this, as in everything, so generous to me, that I cannot allow you to say anything more on the subject without thanking you from my heart. Monsieur Jules Raymond is, I know, far superior to most business men, and I esteem him highly, but have I not already told you that my sole wish is to remain with you? I can imagine no greater happiness, and unless you insist upon a different future for me, it is the one which I should choose.’

  “I tried to insist, and pointed out to her how very advantageous this marriage would be; that the man whom I wished her to marry was young, rich, and greatly respected; that I could not live for ever, and when I was gone, what would become of her, alone in the world, with no one to love and protect her?

  “Antoinette listened with an air of quiet determination, and when I had finished, she said:

  “‘Uncle, dear! as my dying parents bequeathed to you the authority which they had over me, I therefore owe you the same implicit obedience which I gave to my father and mother.

  “‘I am ready to comply with your wishes; but do not try to convince me, for in my present frame of mind, if I am allowed free will, I shall refuse whoever is introduced to me as a future husband, be he a millionaire or a prince.’

  “Her voice and manner were so determined that I realized, were I to insist, I should be commanding rather than persuading her. I therefore set her mind entirely at rest.

  “After telling her that she would always be free to marry whom she would, I unfolded to her all the plans which I was going to impart in a few moments to my two children. I told her that she would accompany us on our journey, and that instead of being three happy mortals together, we should be four.

  “But she shook her head and answered that, although thanking me from the bottom of her heart, she would not form one of the party.

  “At this I expostulated.

  “‘Listen, dear uncle,’ she said, ‘God, who orders all things, has destined happiness for some, sorrow for others. My lot is loneliness. Fifteen years ago, when I was still a child, I lost my father and mother. Let me stay on here alone with Miss Brown; I feel that the noise and bustle of a long journey, and the continued change of scene and people would be irksome to me.

  “‘I shall await your return to Paris; and will only leave my room to go to church, and will walk about the garden in the evening. Then when you come home again, you will still find me here, with the same peace at my heart, the same smile on my lips; but all this I shall lose, dear uncle, if you try to shape my life into other forms than what it is destined to take.’

  “I no longer insisted; but for a few moments wondered what motive could possibly actuate Antoinette, although in the world, to lead the life of a recluse, and thus to turn into a nun a young girl, handsome, clever and full of fun, and possessed moreover of a dowry of two hundred thousand francs.

  “But after all what did it matter? why should I worry over a girl’s whims? why waste my time in trying to comfort, pity, or cheer Antoinette, instead of going straight back to the drawing-room?

  “And God only knows how long I should have remained there, if Antoinette herself had not taken the initiative, and feeling at a loss how to answer the. questions which she saw hovering on my lips, asked permission to go to her own room.

  “‘No! dear child,’ I answered, ‘do not trouble to move, for I am going in myself. I only wish that Madeleine were able to sit out in the evening air as you can, without risk of taking cold.’

  “‘And, uncle dear,’ exclaimed Antoinette, rising as she spoke, ‘I swear to you by the stars shining down upon us, by the soft moonlight which surrounds us, that were it in my power, I would give Madeleine the perfect health which I enjoy. Were it not far better that I, a poor orphan, should be threatened by the danger which menaces her, who is so rich in all else, especially love.’”

  “I kissed Antoinette tenderly, for the dear child had spoken with a warmth of feeling which left no doubt as to the sincerity of her words, and as she sank back on the seat I took my way towards the house.

  CHAPTER XIV.

  “AS I put my foot on the first step leading to the balcony, Madeleine’s voice, as soft and sweet as an angel’s, broke in on my sad musings. I stood still to hear, not her words, but merely to listen to the music of her tones. A few words, however, travelled from my hearing to my consciousness, and then I was no longer satisfied with hearing her voice, I listened to what she was saying.

  “The window which led into the garden stood open, with the curtains drawn across it to shut off the night air; and the shadow of their two heads close together was silhouetted on the curtains.

  “They were talking in an undertone. I listened.

  “I listened, dumb, motionless, stupefied, scarce daring to breathe, for each word they said fell on my heart with an icy chill.

  “‘Madeleine,’ Amaury was saying, ‘what happiness is in store for me; to see you every day and always, and to watch your dear face grow ever more beautiful under the blue sky of Naples or Sorrento.’

  “‘Yes, Amaury dear,’ Madeleine replied, ‘I shall be able to say with Mignon:

  “‘How fair is the land where the orange trees bloom.’

  But best of all is your great love, the reflex of heaven itself.’

  “‘Oh, dear! ‘said Amaury, with a sigh in which could be detected a faint note of impatience.

  “‘Why do your sigh,’ Madeleine asked.

  “‘I was only wondering why we can never know unclouded happiness.’

  “‘What do you mean?’

  “‘I mean that Italy would be to us an Eldorado, that I could repeat with you and Mignon:

  “‘There, there is the land of love, —

  The land of the joy of life,’ —

  if it were not for one thing which will spoil our life, sadden our love.’

  “‘And what is that?’

  “‘I dare not tell you, Madeleine.

  “‘Come, you must.’

  “‘Well, then! I feel that for us to be perfectly happy we should be absolutely alone. I feel that love is such a tender and holy thing, that it is tarnished and desecrated by the presence of a third person, whoever he may be, and that to merge completely in each other, to become, in fact, one, we should not be three.’

  “‘What do you mean, Amaury?’

  “‘Oh! you must see what I mean.’

  “‘Do you speak in this way because my father is to go with us? But reflect one moment; how very ungrateful we should be if we allowed him to have the least suspicion that his presence was a bar to our complete happiness. My father! we owe all our happiness to him; besides, he is not a stranger, not a third person, but a third part of our two selves. For he loves us, one as well as the other, Amaury, and we should love him equally.’

  “‘Oh, very well,’ Amaury answered, rather coldly, ‘as you and I feel differently on this subject, we had best say no more about it, and forget that I ever mentioned it.’

  “‘My darling,’ Madeleine said quickly,.’ have I wounded you? If so, forgive me! Have you not yet discovered, you stupid, jealous boy, that love for one’s lover and love for one’s father are two very different things?”

  “‘Oh! Good Heavens! yes,’ replied Amaury; ‘I know all that: but a father’s love is not jealous and exclusive as ours is, the difference lies in your being used to it; whereas I never get used to seeing you, to me you are an absolute necessity. Did not the Bible, that great voice of humanity, proclaim two thousand years ago:

  “‘Thou shalt leave father and mother and cleave to thy husband.’

  “I longed to interrupt them, to cry out: ‘But the Bible says also, in speaking of Rachel:

  “‘And she would not be comforted because her children were not.’

  “But I was chained to the spot, without power of movement or speech; I felt a painful satisfaction in hearing my child take my part, but it seemed to me that she should do more than simply defend me. I longed to hear her tell her lover that I was as necessary to her as she to me; I still hoped to hear her say this.

  I” She continued:

  “‘Yes! Amaury, perhaps you are right; but I know that we cannot dispense with my father’s company without wounding him terribly, — besides if at times his I presence is a restraint upon us, at others he will be a link with the past.”

  “‘My dear Madeleine,’ said Amaury, ‘do not deceive yourself; do you think that when Monsieur d’Avrigny is with us, I shall be able to tell you, as I do now, that I love you? When we stroll through the dim orange groves of which we were just now speaking, or along the shore of that clear, sparkling sea, not just we two, but we three, if he walks behind, shall I be able to slip my arm round your waist, and steal from your lips the kiss they even; now refuse to give? Will not his grave ‘face frighten away our gladness? Is he of our own age, that he can understand our foolish ways? You will see, Madeleine, how his serious face will throw a shadow:: over all our gladness.

  “‘If, on the other hand, we were alone in our post-chaise, how at times we would chatter, at others keep perfect silence! But with your father, we shall never feel free; we shall have to say nothing, when we would wish to talk, and talk when we would wish to be silent.

  “‘With him, we shall always have to keep up the conversation, and for ever in the same tone; with him, no adventures, no hazardous expeditions, no piquant incognitos, but always the straight road — the law of order — the proprieties of life. But, Madeleine, understand me well; I am most grateful to your father; I respect — I may say — love him; but need a feeling of veneration prompt us to have a companion on our travels? do you not think it very uncomfortable to be always under surveillance?

  ‘“You, my dear Madeleine, in your maiden modesty, and with your affection for your father, had not given all this a thought, but I see by your pensive air, that you do think of it now.

  “‘Well! the longer you reflect upon it, the more will you be convinced that I am right, and that when three people travel together, two, at any rate, feel bored.’

  “I listened anxiously for Madeleine’s reply — it was long in coming; at last, however, she said:

  “‘But, Amaury, even supposing that I share your opinion, tell me what is to be done? Everything is arranged for the journey, and meanwhile, my father has made all his plans to accompany us. Would it be reasonable to say anything, now that it is too late? Besides, poor dear father, who would dare give him to understand that he was in our way? Would you, Amaury? One thing is certain, I would not.’

  “‘Good Heavens! I know all this,’ said Amaury, ‘and it is just what makes me feel so desperate.

  “‘Monsieur d’Avrigny, whose intellect is so superior, so acute, so penetrating as regards the physical and material part of our organization, should be equally so as regards the mind, and should know better than to allow himself that cruel habit old people often have, of imposing their society on young folk.

  ‘“I do not wish to offend you in accusing him, but really are not some fathers unpleasantly blind to the natural desires of their children, and the amusements due to their age? They seem to expect them to enjoy the same pleasures as themselves, and to forget what they were in their own youth. Well! this journey which might have been so gloriously happy for us, will be spoiled by this fatal — ’

  “‘Hush! ‘whispered Madeleine, placing a finger on Amaury’s lips,’ hush! naughty boy, you must not talk like that. Listen, dear, I cannot be angry with you for being so exacting, as this but proves your love, but — ’

  “‘But I seem to you foolishly exacting, is it not so? ‘Amaury said, with a suspicion of ill-humour.

  “‘No! no! ‘answered Madeleine, ‘but let us speak quite low, for what I am about to tell you seems almost wicked, and I dread to hear myself say it.’

  “And Madeleine accordingly lowered her voice. ‘No, far from your objections appearing to me foolish, well, Amaury, I also share them; but hitherto I have not wished to own it to myself, much less to you.

  “‘But what would you have, Amaury, dear? I promise to be so good to you, to repeat to you so often how great is my love, that you in turn, will feel bound to do something to please me, and you must resign yourself to the inevitable as I do.’

  “On hearing these words, I felt that I could bear no more; they pierced me to the heart.

  “How blind, how selfish I had been; I had readily seen that Antoinette would be in my way, yet had not realized that I would be in theirs. However, the re-action was quick and sure.

  “A sadder but a wiser man, I stepped on to the balcony and into the drawing- room, the noise my boots made on the steps giving warning of my approach.

  ‘‘As I entered the room they both rose; I kissed Madeleine and shook hands with Amaury; then said:

  “‘I have bad news for you, my dear children.’ I noticed that they both started, although my tone must have led them to understand that the misfortune did not immediately concern themselves.

  find that I must give up all idea of being with you on your travels. You will have to go without me, as the King will on no account grant me leave of absence. His Majesty is good enough to say that I am of use to him, — a necessity even, and has desired me to remain here.

  “‘So what can I do? When a King expresses a desire, it is practically a command.’

  “‘Oh, father! how unfortunate!” said Madeleine; “you are willing to do more for the King than for your own child.’

  “‘At all events, dear guardian,” Amaury replied, unable under his apparent regret, to conceal his real delight, ‘although absent in body, you will yet be always with us in our thoughts.’