What will Stella say to this?  Anyhow, I begin to understand her interest in Penrose now.  He is one of a company of heroes.  I am already anxious to hear more of him.

To-morrow will be a memorable day in my calendar.  To-morrow I leave Rome for St. Germain.

If any further information is to be gained for Mrs. Eyrecourt and her daughter, I have made the necessary arrangements for receiving it.  The banker has promised to write to me, if there is a change in Romayne’s life and prospects.  And my landlord will take care that I hear of it, in the event of news reaching Rome from the Mission at Arizona.

Sixth Extract.

St. Germain, March 14.—­I arrived yesterday.  Between the fatigue of the journey and the pleasurable agitation caused by seeing Stella again, I was unfit to make the customary entry in my diary when I retired for the night.

She is more irresistibly beautiful than ever.  Her figure (a little too slender as I remember it) has filled out.  Her lovely face has lost its haggard, careworn look; her complexion has recovered its delicacy; I see again in her eyes the pure serenity of expression which first fascinated me, years since.  It may be due to the consoling influence of the child—­assisted, perhaps, by the lapse of time and the peaceful life which she now leads—­but this at least is certain, such a change for the better I never could have imagined as the change I find in Stella after a year’s absence.

As for the baby, he is a bright, good-humored little fellow; and he has one great merit in my estimation—­he bears no resemblance to his father.  I saw his mother’s features when I first took him on my knee, and looked at his face, lifted to mine in grave surprise.  The baby and I are certain to get on well together.

Even Mrs. Eyrecourt seems to have improved in the French air, and under the French diet.  She has a better surface to lay the paint on; her nimble tongue runs faster than ever; and she has so completely recovered her good spirits, that Monsieur and Madame Villeray declare she must have French blood in her veins.  They were all so unaffectedly glad to see me (Matilda included), that it was really like returning to one’s home.  As for Traveler, I must interfere (in the interests of his figure and his health) to prevent everybody in the house from feeding him with every eatable thing, from plain bread to pate de foie gras.

My experience of to-day will, as Stella tells me, be my general experience of the family life at St. Germain.

We begin the morning with the customary cup of coffee.  At eleven o’clock I am summoned from my “pavilion” of three rooms to one of those delicious and artfully varied breakfasts which are only to be found in France and in Scotland.  An interval of about three hours follows, during which the child takes his airing and his siesta, and his elders occupy themselves as they please.  At three o’clock we all go out—­with a pony chaise which carries the weaker members of the household—­for a ramble in the forest.  At six o’clock we assemble at the dinner-table.  At coffee time, some of the neighbors drop in for a game at cards.  At ten, we all wish each other good-night.