Barbara heard her aunt muttering something about a "dreadful humbug" once or twice, but she was very gracious to every one, and smiled upon them all until the train left the station, when she sank back with an air of relief and exclaimed, "Thank goodness! That's over—though, of course, they meant it kindly."
"They are very kind," Barbara said, looking down at the three bouquets on the seat. "I really don't deserve that they should be so kind."
"Probably not," Miss Britton returned calmly. "We sometimes get more than our deserts, sometimes less, so perhaps things adjust themselves in the end. I was really rather astonished not to see the bath-boy at the station too—your acquaintance seems so varied."
"Yes, I have learned a great deal since I went there," Barbara said thoughtfully; "and just at the end I felt I didn't want to come away at all."
"I have no such feelings," her aunt remarked, though, perhaps, a little thoughtfully also. But when they arrived at Rouen, the remembrance of their pleasant time in Paris returned to them, and they both felt ready for the delights of seeing a new town.
Apart from the information given by the Mortons Barbara felt already familiar with the great churches and quaint streets, and for her Rouen never quite lost the halo of romance that Mademoiselle Viré had endowed it with.
It was to be connected with yet another story of the past, however, before they left it, one which, for romance, was fully equal to Mademoiselle Viré's, though its conclusion was so much happier.
It was the second day of their stay, and after a morning of wandering about the town, both Barbara and her aunt were resting, the former on the balcony in front of her room, the latter on the terrace in the garden. Although a book was in her lap, Barbara was not reading, but, with hands clasped behind her head, was idly watching the passers-by, when suddenly laziness vanished from her attitude, and her gaze became intent on the figure of some one who had just turned into the portico of the hotel. She rose from the low chair, her eyes shining with excitement.
"It certainly was he!" she said. "Now, Barbara—it is time for you to eliminate yourself—you must lie on the couch and try to look pale."
She pulled down the window blind, ran into her room, and had hardly settled herself upon the couch when, as she had expected, a maid came up with a message asking her to go down to the terrace.