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I looked down at my flowers, and, while I was wavering between the desire to go and the equally strong desire to stay, he had taken the basket from my hand, had placed me on the bank, and stood before me, holding my flowers. As I fastened them one by one into my wreath, I took several furtive glances at the stranger's face. He was still uncovered, and his blond hair - not golden, or flaxen, but blond closely cut, and fell in one large wave across his forehead. His complexion was fair and pale, his features perfectly regular, his eyes a clear, cold blue. A calm, relentless, cruel face it was; but I did not see that then. I thought only how tall, how gråceful, and handsome he was, as I put the last rose in my wreath, and turned to go.

was

"Will Mademoiselle grant me a favor?" said the soft voice again, as he held the gate open for me.

"If I can, Monsieur," said I, pausing. "Mademoiselle has already granted me the honor of plucking some roses for her wreath; will she grant me the still greater honor of beholding it upon her head?"

My straw hat was hanging from my neck by the strings, and, as I began involuntarily to loosen them, with a bow and a "Permit me," he lifted my wreath, and dropped it lightly on my head. I felt myself blush deeply as I met his glance of admiration, and longed to escape from it, but still lingered in spite of it.

"Thanks, Mademoiselle," said he, with a profound bow. "I have seen several queens, but none so lovely as the queen of the Chateau Lascours."

"I must go now, I think," said I, more embarrassed than ever. "Adieu, Monsieur."

"Au revoir only, I hope, Mademoiselle," said he, with a slight smile; but he made no further effort to detain me, and I returned to the chateau, dwelling all the way upon this strange, exciting, and to me delightful, interview.

I

spent most of the morning in arranging my flowers, and then read to my aunt until it was time to dress for dinner. After I was dressed, I went, as I usually did, to the window looking into the court; and, as I stood there, I saw a travelling-carriage, laden with luggage, drive in, and stop at the grand entrance. M. Baudet - I recognized him instantly - alighted; and, with a miserable feeling of terror and dread, I turned away from the window.

A few moments after, my aunt's maid entered. "Dinner is deferred an hour, Mademoiselle, and Madame begs that you will put on your white muslin and your pearls, and come as soon as possible to the drawing-room; M. Baudet is here, and he remains to-day for dinner."

All the while Jeannette was dressing me I pondered upon the means of concealing the morning's interview from M. Baudet; and it was with the question still undecided that I at length descended, and entered the drawing

room.

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"You remember Mademoiselle Carteret, do you not, M. Baudet?" said my aunt, as I paused before him and courtesied.

"Mademoiselle has become very beautiful since I last had the pleasure of beholding her," said he, bowing, and handing me a chair; and, as I sat down, he added, "Before we go to dinner, Mademoiselle, I must ask you a few questions."

"Yes, Monsieur," said I, in a low voice.

"We will then proceed to business," he answered, drawing a paper from his pocket as he spoke. "This, you perceive, Mademoiselle, is the paper signed by your own hand,” he continued, turning it over so that I could see the signature.

"Yes, Monsieur."

"You remember the several injunctions contained in this paper, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"You have fulfilled your promises, Mademoiselle, to the letter?"

"Yes, Monsieur," said I; a burning blush rising to my cheeks as I spoke. "No visitors have been received at the chateau ?"

"None, Monsieur."

"You have confined your walks to the limits of the estate, Mademoiselle?"

66 Yes, Monsieur."

"Your acquaintances are confined to Madame de Renneville, Father Romano, and myself?"

"Yes, Monsieur." I rose from my seat as I said this, for I felt an actual oppression at my heart, and as if the atmosphere were stifling; and I dreaded inexpressibly any reference to my morning's adventure.

"Pardon, Mademoiselle," said M. Baudet, fixing his small keen eyes upon me, as if he would read to my very soul, "I have yet a few questions to ask before I shall have fulfilled the instructions of M. Huntingdon."

"I detest the name of Mr. Huntingdon," said I, in a burst of anger. "I think he is very cruel, and you too, M. Baudet."

have violated that part of your agreement?"

I glanced up for some sign of relenting in his face, and almost involuntarily faltered out: "No, Monsieur; I have not."

M. Baudet hesitated. "Are you quite sure, Mademoiselle? Shall I not repeat my question in a different form?" “No,” said I, resolutely, "I have no other answer to give."

"This then is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, Mademoiselle? You are prepared to swear that it is so?"

"Yes," stammered I, almost inaudibly.

"You are quite sure, Mademoiselle?" said M. Baudet, regarding me doubtfully. "I regret to say that I—”

"M. Baudet, we will suspend any further questioning," said a clear and low voice behind me. "Mademoiselle has already been sufficiently annoyed, and for any violation of her agreement I alone am responsible."

I recognized those musical tones, that slight foreign accent; and as I turned, the blood rushing over my face and neck, I saw, through the tears of shame and mortification which filled my eyes, the gentleman whom I had met in the morning. He had exchanged his

"Calm yourself, Charlotte, I entreat you," said my aunt, hastily. "Such a display of temper may result in making you even more unhappy than you are at present." "I cannot be so," said I, sullenly; travelling-suit of gray cloth for evening "I am a slave."

"Mademoiselle," interrupted M. Baudet, "I must still trouble you for a moment."

I looked at him. I longed to defy him, to leave him; but I dared do neither, and I remained silent.

"My questions have so far been answered satisfactorily. I have but one more," he continued: "Are you, Mademoiselle, prepared to swear that you have never seen, spoken to, or been addressed by any man of your own rank?"

I dared not reply to this; I dared not tell the truth, and I still less dared to tell a lie.

"Well, Mademoiselle," said M. Baudet, after a moment's pause, "you cannot answer that question? You

dress, but still wore a wild rosebud in his button-hole. Alarmed and confounded, believing not only that my lie was discovered, and the violation of my agreement known, but that some dreadful punishment would follow, I stood silent and motionless.

The stranger had already bowed to my aunt, and kissed her hand. He now turned to M. Baudet, saying, “Will you present me to my ward?"

"Mademoiselle Carteret," said M. Baudet, advancing, "I have the honor to present to you your cousin and guardian, M. Huntingdon."

"Pardon me," said Mr. Huntingdon, drawing my arm within his, and leading me to a window at the farther end of the drawing-room, —" pardon me, my fair cousin, the annoyance I have caused

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"You must believe, Mr. Hunting don," said I, haughtily, "that I only yield obedience to those commands as to my father's."

"I am but too happy to find that you so entirely understand me," said he, bowing; "I cannot tell you, Charlotte, how much I have feared lest your natural dislike to orders so stringent should have led you, to blame me only; I have been your fellow-sufferer, I assure you."

The conversation was most unpleasant to me, and I was perversely resolved not to continue it. I therefore rose, and leaned out of the window. Mr. Huntingdon, bending over me, gazed out also. How I longed to escape from him but as I put my hand on the window, intending to step out on the terrace, he spoke.

"A lovely night indeed, Charlotte; you are still agitated, I see, and I know the surprise of seeing me must have been great; you need a turn on the terrace, and I am never weary of breathing the soft air of your native France. Come." He pushed back the window as he spoke, and offered his arm. What I indeed most wished was to escape from his presence; but I took his arm, and walked out into the calm starlit night.

He did not speak at first, and after several moments I looked up at him. We were standing at the end of the terrace then, and the silver light of the moon shone full upon his pale face and clearly chiselled lineaments. How cold they were! How like a statue he stood, his relentless blue eyes looking straight

before him!

"Mr. Huntingdon," said I, at length, “I—”

"Speak in English," said he, looking at me with a smile. "You look altogether away from England, Charlotte; and yet your future life lies there; and do you call me Mr. Huntingdon? You

do not recognize me as a cousin, it seems, and he paused for a moment, and then added, "your father's dearest friend, you know."

"I cannot accustom myself to call you

"Harrington? It was your father's name, Charlotte. No," he added as I made a movement to re-enter the drawing-room, "you must not enter, ma belle cousine, until you have granted me this favor." "And suppose grant it?" I replied.

I do not choose to

"In that case I must avail myself of the authority vested in me, and remind you that I am your guardian, and—”

"That is unnecessary," said I, coldly. "I have not been a prisoner for so many years in vain. I must call you Harrington, since you wish it."

"Let us take another turn," said Mr. Huntingdon, again offering his arm. Then, fixing his eyes on me, he said, "I have at least been gratified, Charlotte, by seeing that that imprisonment has told so little on you that you are able to receive strangers with such singular openness and ease."

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"You believe me, do you not?" said I, looking up.

"Do I believe you?" said he; "certainly I believe you, but your assurance was unnecessary; I was previously perfectly well informed of the truth of what you say."

A shudder passed over me as he said this, just such an involuntary, undefined feeling of dread as I had experienced when I read his first letter years before.

"You are not angry, Harrington ?" I persisted.

"I am never angry," he answered, coldly; "and this I can promise, Charlotte, that you will never make me so."

All

He raised the window as he spoke, and admitted me into the drawing-room just as dinner was announced. through dinner he addressed his conversation principally to me, invariably speaking in English.

I cannot describe the peculiar fascination of his quiet manner, for it was fascinating; nor can I explain the immediate control he acquired over all who approached him. It was magnetism, I suppose, which subdued even M. Baudet, who in his presence was no longer his quick and keen self, but silent, and, if I may so express it, tarnished.

When my aunt and I were in the drawing-room alone again, and I sat at my embroidery-frame, I saw still before me the face of my cousin, his soft musical tones still vibrated on my ear, and I seemed still to breathe the delicate perfume which his dress exhaled. At length I heard a rustle in the diningroom, and, a moment after, the gentlemen entered. Mr. Huntingdon came first; and, as he approached me, I again experienced the strange sensation of the morning, a sort of terror or repulsion which prompted me to avoid, and an attraction which drew me toward him. I rose to meet him, however, with a question which had been hovering on my lips ever since he had made himself known.

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and I sat quietly down to my embroidery.

"Ah, Mademoiselle!" said M. Baudet, as he came and bent over me," your work is really superb; and you are so diligent that I doubt not that, if I should have the happiness of coming to Lascours in December, I should find that you had completed several pieces like that."

"Mademoiselle Carteret will not be at Lascours next December," said Mr. Huntingdon, calmly; "she will be in England at that time."

Now, just before, I had told my aunt that I should not go to England; but I only looked up in his face, and said, "When am I to go?"

"Very shortly," he replied, as he walked away, and sat down by my aunt. I noticed that she asked him no questions about my departure for England. Although he had been so short a time at Lascours, he was already felt to be absolute. He did not again address me until the close of the evening, when he approached me, and, raising my hand to his lips, said, "We part tonight, Charlotte, for some time; when I next return, it will be to conduct you to England. Meanwhile bear a little longer with your father's commands."

"I will, indeed,” said I; “but will you not tell me when you will return?"

"I cannot tell you at present; but your affairs will be in perfect train by that time, — indeed, they are almost so now. Au revoir."

"Au revoir."

And we parted. At five o'clock the next morning I was awakened by a noise in the court-yard, and, going to the window, saw M. Baudet and Mr. Huntingdon drive away.

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