"Precisely. It was a double name like that."
"Good. Adieu, Mademoiselle. My friend and I may come to you again perhaps to make further inquiries."
"You shall be very welcome, Monsieur. And if you discover the secret of my poor young friend's fate, you will tell me——"
"Assuredly."
"One word, Monsieur. Where is our little Léonie buried? Has she a decent grave in your English land?"
"She lies in a rustic churchyard under a great yew-tree. There is a stone upon her grave, with a brief record of when and how she met her death. Her name and age shall now be added to the inscription."
"Indeed, Monsieur! But what kind friend was it who placed a stone over the grave of a nameless stranger?"
"That was my care. It was a very small thing to do."
"Ah, Monsieur, it is in doing these small things that a great heart shows itself."
Mr. Heathcote and his companion made their adieux, accompanied to the landing by the spinster, who felt as if she had entertained angels unawares; but when the sound of their footsteps had died away upon the stairs she went back to her room, and wept over the fate of her young friend.