"We dine at six," replied Ethel. "Mamma has but just returned from her drive, and is dressing," she added, as if in apology for being the only one to receive him. "Papa has been out all the afternoon."
"Is Madame Guise well to-day?"
"Not very. She has one of her bad headaches, I am sorry to say, and is in her room. She will be here shortly."
He sat down by Ethel, and took up the book she had been reading; a very old and attractive book indeed--the "Vicar of Wakefield."
"What an excellent story it is!" he exclaimed.
"Have you read it?" asked Ethel, rising to proceed to the house.
"Indeed I have. Twenty times, I should think. My mother had a small store of these old English works, and and my brother revelled in them."
"You have brothers and sisters?"
"Only one sister now. She is married and lives in France."
"Ah, then I can understand why you like to go thither so much," said Ethel, all unconscious that it was his native land; that he had never before been in England. "Is her husband French?"