"Mr. Christian Almer, whom I expect every minute"--and Adelaide looked at her watch--"would have been seriously annoyed with you if you had not satisfied my curiosity. Where is the harm? To be living here, with such an interesting tale untold, would have been inexcusable, perfectly inexcusable. But I am certain that you have purposely passed over more than one chapter, and I admire you for it. It is highly to your credit not to have told all you know, though it could hurt no one at this distance of time."
"What do you think I have concealed, my lady?"
"There was a certain M. Gabriel," said Adelaide, "who played a most important part in the story--a good many people would say, the most important part. If it had not been for him, there would have been no story to tell worth the hearing; there would have been no quarrel between husband and wife, and the foolish young lady would not have died, and I should not be here, listening to her story, and ready to cry my eyes out in pity for her. M. Gabriel must have been a very handsome young fellow, or there would not have been such a fuss made about him. There! I declare you have never even given me a description of him. Of course he was handsome."
She was full of vivacity, and as she leaned forward towards the old housekeeper, it appeared as if, in her estimation, nothing connected with the story she had heard was of so much importance as this question, which she repeated anxiously, "Tell me, Mother Denise, was he handsome?"
"He was exceedingly good-looking," Mother Denise was constrained to reply, "but not so distinguished in his bearing as my unhappy master."
"Tall?"
"Yes, tall, my lady."
"Dark or fair? But I think you gave me the impression that he was dark."
"Yes, my lady, he was dark," replied Mother Denise, coldly, more and more displeased at the frivolity of the questions.
"And young, of course--much younger than Mr. Almer?"