She rose as she spoke, and Graham rose also; there was nothing more to be said.

“Then it only remains for me to bring Madelon here,” he said, “and hand over to you the sum of money which M. Linders left for her use.”

“That is all,” replied the Superior; “if you can bring her this afternoon I shall be ready to receive her.  You must accept my thanks, Monsieur, for your kindness to her, and for the trouble you have taken.”

Graham, as he walked back to the hotel, was ready to vow that nothing should induce him to hand Madelon over to the care of her grim aunt.  He understood now M. Linders’ reluctance to send her to his sister, and sympathised with it fully.  Poor little Madelon, with her pretty, impulsive ways, her naive ignorance,—­Madelon, so used to be petted and indulged, she to be shut up within those dull walls, with that horrible, harsh, unforgiving woman, to be taught, and drilled, and turned into a nun—­he hated to think of it!  He would take her away with him, he would hide her somewhere, he would send her to his sister who had half a dozen children of her own to look after, he would make his aunt adopt her—­his aunt, who would as soon have thought of adopting the Great Mogul.  A thousand impossible schemes and notions flitted through the foolish young fellow’s brain as he walked along, chafed and irritated with his interview—­all ending, as we have seen, in his coming into the hotel and telling Madelon she was to go to the convent that very afternoon.  One thing indeed he determined upon, that against her own will she should never become a nun, if it were in his power to prevent it.  He had promised her father not to lose sight of her, and, as far as he was able, he would keep his engagement.

He did not witness the meeting between his little charge and her aunt.  He bade farewell to a tearful, half-frightened little Madelon at the door of the parlour, he saw it close upon her, and it was with quite a heavy heart that he turned away, leaving behind him the little girl who had occupied so large a share of his thoughts and anxieties during the last ten days.  He had nothing to detain him in Liege now, and he left it the next morning, with the intention of carrying out as much of his proposed tour as he should find practicable.  His original intention had been to proceed from Paris to Strasbourg, and so into Switzerland, and over the Alps to the Italian lakes.  So much of his holiday was already gone, however, that he gave up the idea of the lakes; but Switzerland might still be accomplished, and Strasbourg at any rate must be in his first point, as it was there that, on leaving England, he had directed his letters to be sent in the first instance, and he expected to find them lying awaiting them.