Mademoiselle," began the Count with a bow
and a shrug, and an apologetic wave of his
hand.

"It was so hot, Monsieur, in the house; and
the children made a noise. I wanted to be
alone."

"It is not proper. Mademoiselle, for a young
person like you to be alone."

"Why, Monsieur?" she asked dreamily.

"Because, Mademoiselle, some one might
come in here to see you."

"My faith, Monsieur! There is no one to
come!" cried Marie, with a half pout.
"Perhaps I should like if some one did
come."

"Mademoiselle! Do you know what you
have said?"

"Yes," said Marie, shaking her thick hair,
like a lion's mane. "I said I should perhaps
be glad if any one had come in here to see
me. Any stranger, I mean. It is so sad to
see the same faces always!"

"Miserable child! Will you force me to
lock you in your room like a criminal? Must
you be chained like a slave to propriety?"

"Lock me up in my room again, Monsieur?
What have I done? You locked me up yesterday
because I talked to Monsieur le Curé
by the water-side; although he gave me good
counsel, and told me to obey you."

"You wish to ruin yourself, Mademoiselle.
That wild English blood of yours renders you
unmanageable, and makes you revolt against
all laws of propriety. But I must step in
between you and your own hand, and preserve
you in spite of yourself."

The count was sometimes seized with sentimental
attacks. He had one to-day.

"Thank you, Monsieur," said Marie." I
can take care of myself."

"You are presumptuous, child."

"And you, Monsieur le Comte, vex me!"

"Do not vex yourself, my rabbit. You really
become too beautiful!" There was a deep
rich glow on Marie's cheek, and such a baby
boldness of displeasure in her large eyes, that
the Count could not scold her any longer.
He took her hand. Marie, who regarded him
as her father , suffered her hand to remain
in his. The Count kissed it. Louise looked
up. "How droll!" she said to herself. "I
wonder what mamma would say!"

"I am sure I only wish to please you and
Madame Dupuy," said Marie, gently. " If
you are only kind to me you may lock me up
in my room as long as you like; but if I am
treated unkindly, Monsieur le Comte, I must
go away and hide myself."

"When I seem anything but kind, my little
cabbage," said M. Dupuy, " it is for your own
good. Madame Dupuy is not so sincere, and
does not love you so much as I do."

"Oh Monsieur!"

"Yes, my child! I tell you she is not sincere;
to you especially not; although you
have been ever devoted to her. My dear little
friend, it is time you understood who are
your real friends, as the day may not be very
distant when you will need them."

"Monsieur, you terrify me! I cannot hear
Madame spoken against. I cannot hear that
she is not sincere—she, who is so good."

"I tell you she is not sincere! I tell you
she is no true friend of yours. I have defended
you against her suspicions more than once;
you, who have always taken her part in
our domestic differences. M. le Curé yesterday
told her that you were in the direct road
to paradise; but she said that you were not
exactly what he believed you to be, and
that you had a temper to subdue like others."

"I will go and tell mamma that papa is
telling Mademoiselle Marie she does not love
her, and that papa kissed Mademoiselle
Marie's hand!" thought Louise, as she
ran off.

And she did so very soon; Madame Dupuy
walking down the avenue all the time.

When Madame and her daughter came to
the arbour, they stopped. Not to listen. Of
course not. Madame Dupuy, having sent the
child away, stopped to gather a rose, which
had a canker in its heart. She heard her
husband say:

"You know that I love you, Mademoiselle
Marie."

"But so does Madame, Monsieur."

"Child! Not as I do!"

"Yes, Monsieur; more than you do !"

"Ungrateful girl! I tell you Madame
has never been your friend. It is I always
who have defended you. I want you to hear
reason and understand the truth; but you
are so stupid—such a cow—there is no doing
anything with you!"

"Don't be angry, Monsieur; and don't call
me names. I am very much obliged to you
for your kindness; but I cannot understand
why you want me to believe that Madame
does not love me, and that you do. Why,
what am I to do if I do believe it?"

"You are to obey me, child."

"I do so, Monsieur, and I obey Madame
also. Although she has been cross to me lately,
sometimes;" said Marie in a dreaming kind
of voice.

"And I, Marie?"

"You, Monsieur? You locked me up in
my room, yesterday; yet you have been very
amiable lately, and have not called me a cow,
or a crow, or a stick; and I love you."

"More than Madame?"

"I don't know that, Monsieur. When you
are kind I love you very much; but"—

She was going to add, "But I love Madame
always," when Madame Dupuy gave a faint
cry and stood before her.

Ungrateful! Who destroyed the peace of
the household and laid traps for M. le
Comte? Who endeavoured to poison his mind
against her, Madame Dupuy, in the hope of
his ill-usage killing her, that she, Marie,
might be Madame la Comtesse, and rule in
the château? were the mildest of Madame