"A letter from Dieppe ... from my solicitor. ... Oh, I was waiting for it so anxiously! ... Think, Guillaume: it brings me a name ... nothing can separate us now ..."
The excitement was too much for her. She felt herself small and feeble in the grip of an over-great happiness. And, covering her face with her crossed hands, as was her wont at moments of perturbation, she wept tears of delight.
Some minutes passed in silence. She heard Guillaume open the garden-door. Steps approached, some one sat down beside her, a hand unlocked her fingers: it was Mme. de la Vaudraye.
She shrank back imperceptibly. But Mme. de la Vaudraye said:
"Gilberte, are you afraid of me?"
And the voice was so gentle that Gilberte was quite stirred. She looked at her through her tears and hardly recognized her. Her features had lost their customary hard-
