when strangers were rare. A fatality willed that Hatty—it was abont ten days after their return from Fontainebleau—should ask Elizabeth, to accompany her to the Luxembourg on this particular morning. It was the first time she was out since her severe cold; she did not feel strong enough to work in her atelier, but said she was just equal to crawl across the garden in the mid-day October sunshine after déjeuner, and sit down opposite two or three of her favourite pictures for an hour or so. Alaric had gone to his work; but Mr. George, much to Miss Baring's annoyance, proposed to accompany the two ladies. Elizabeth, knowing her friend's dislike to the young Englishman, assured him they required no escort. When, however, he replied with the sweetest smile, "Of course not; but will you not allow me to have the pleasure of seeing the pictures and discussing them with you?"—what could she reply.
The air had the first touch of frost in it, though the sun shone still warmly among the red leaves which silently detached themselves from the boughs, and drifted down, turning the yellow gravel paths to crimson. The thin edge of the air made the American girl cough. By the time they had ascended the narrow stair which leads to the saloons of the old historic palace, she was exhausted, and sank down on the first seat.
"Go on," she said to Elizabeth. "Don't mind me. I will join you presently, when I am a little rested."
It was the first time since they left Fontainebleau that George found himself alone with the object of his quest. In public, he was cautious not to single her out for his attention. At table, and in the salon, he talked even
