browsing under the care of a dusky shepherd who saluted the master as he passed. The carriage stopped before a cottage whose wide-roofed piazza, was wreathed with honeysuckle. A lady, sitting in a low chair, rose to meet Feuardent, and bade him welcome to her forest-home. She smiled at her husband as she gave her hand to her guest, and said in a sweet, gracious voice, "You are never more welcome, mon cher than when you bring with you so agreeable a guest as M. Feuardent."
The conversation was carried on entirely in French. Madame Bienveillance was a tall, hand some woman with large dark eyes and a red, curved mouth. Her complexion was white and flawless as the thick creamy leaves of the magnolia blossom which drooped from the ribbon at her waist. Her smile seemed to Feuardent as innocent as that which rested on the features of the child clinging to her skirts. She did the honors of her simple home with a gracious hospitality often found wanting in more pretentious houses. Her summer-dwelling possessed only four rooms, gathered about a large chimney. These were her own apartment, a guest-chamber, a parlor, and a dining-room rarely used in weather which allowed the table to be spread on the gallery. Near by, another cottage of similar dimensions afforded sleeping and play-rooms to the children;
