The girl rose slowly from her seat, and, coming towards Noël, put both her hands in his, and lifting up her great brown eyes, lighted with happiness and perfect trust, said deliberately,—
"'Il y a longtemps que je t'aime,
Jamais je ne t'oublierai.'"
CHAPTER IV.
"Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun,
The line of yellow light dies fast away."
Keble.
"Well, I'm afraid, Webster, it's a thankless task. There are plenty of Scotch names about here, but not the one we want. I'm heartily tired of going about from churchyard to churchyard, poking around like ghouls or medical students. We've been to all the graves in the neighborhood, and, interesting as such a pursuit may be to an antiquary like yourself, I find it very slow. I'm one of those sensible people who believe in living in the present, and letting the dead past bury its dead, as the poet says."
"Are you, indeed?" retorted his companion drily. "Too lazy, I suppose, to do anything else."
"Well, that may be the case; but this I know, that I'm going to cable Lady McAllister to-morrow, and tell her that I'm going back. You may stay here if you like, as you appear to find the country so charming."
"It is very kind, indeed, of you to give me your permission," replied the other. "But, my gay and festive friend, I doubt very much whether Lady McAllister will allow you to return. You know, as well as I, how decided she is. When she has once got an idea into her head, it is hard to get it out."