CONFIDENCE
"Maids are so strange," she murmured; "especially the French."
It pleased Bernard for the moment not to spare her, though he felt a sort of delight of kindness for her.
"Your going off from Blanquais so suddenly without leaving me any explanation, any clue, any message of any sort—made me feel at first as if you didn't wish that I should look you up. It reminded me of the way you left Baden—do you remember?—three years ago."
"Baden was so charming—but one couldn't stay for ever," said Mrs. Vivian.
"I had a sort of theory one could. Our life was so pleasant that it seemed a shame to break the spell, and if no one had moved I am sure we might be sitting there now."
Mrs. Vivian stared, still with her little fixed smile.
"I think we should have had bad weather."
"Very likely," said Bernard, laughing. "Nature would have grown jealous of our good-humour—of our tranquil happiness. And after all, here we are together again—that is, some of us. But I have only my own audacity to thank for it. I was quite free to believe that you were not at all pleased to see me reappear—and it is only because I am not easy to discourage—am, indeed, probably a rather impudent fellow—that I have ventured to come here to-day."
"I am very glad to see you reappear, Mr. Longueville," Mrs. Vivian declared with the accent of veracity.
"It was your daughter's idea, then, running away from Blanquais?"
Mrs. Vivian lowered her eyes.
"We were obliged to go to Fontainebleau. We have but just come back. I thought of writing to you," she softly added.
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