"That is the very place where I sat," said Graham, not heeding her, "and took you on my knee."
"I don't remember anything about it, Monsieur Horace——"
"Nothing, Madelon?"
"Well, perhaps—you gave me a fish, I remember—it was the fish that won my heart; and I have it still, you see."
"Oh! then, your heart was won?"
"A little," she answered, glancing up at him for a moment; and then, moving on, she said, "See here, Horace, this is the hawthorn bush under which I slept that morning after I had run away from the convent. How happy I was to have escaped! I remember standing at this gate afterwards eating my bread, and that dreadful woman came out of the hotel."
"Is there no way of getting in?" said Graham, shaking the gate.
"None, I am afraid," Madelon answered. "Stay, there used to be a path that led round at the back across a little bridge into the garden. Perhaps we might get in that way."
They were again disappointed; they found the path, and the wooden bridge that crossed the stream, but another closed gate prevented their entering the garden.
"This, however, becomes more and more interesting," said Graham, after looking at the spot attentively. "Yes, this is the very place, Madelon, where I first saw you with a doll in your arms."