The canon and madame laid down their knives and forks to listen, and involuntarily everybody’s eyes turned upon Harry.  He could not forbear a smile and a glance of intelligence at Bessie; for he had an instant suspicion that this new-comer was an emissary from Mr. Fairfax, and from her agitation so had she.  Launcelot held a short, prompt parley at the gate, then Babette intervened, and next was audible the advance of a firm, even step into the hall, and the closing of the salon door.  “Encore un beau monsieur pour mademoiselle,” announced the housekeeper, and handed in a card inscribed with the name of “Mr. Cecil Burleigh,” and a letter of introduction from Mr. Fairfax.

Bessie’s heart went pit-a-pat while madame read the letter, and Harry feared that he would probably have to find his way to the Tapestry without a guide.  Madame’s countenance was inscrutable, but she said to Bessie, “Calme-toi, mon enfant,” and finished her meal with extreme deliberation.  Then with a perfect politeness, and an utter oblivion of the little arrangement for a walk to the library that Harry and Bessie had made, she gave him his conge in the form of a hope that he would never fail to visit her when he found himself at Caen or Bayeux.  Harry accepted it with a ready apprehension of the necessity for his dismissal, and without alluding to the Tapestry made his respectful acknowledgments to madame and the canon preparatory to bidding Bessie farewell.

Under the awning over the perron they said their good-byes.  Bessie, frank-hearted girl, was disappointed even to the glittering of tears.  “It has been very pleasant.  I am so happy you came!” whispered she with a tremor.

“God bless you, dear little Bessie!  Give me this for a keepsake,” said Harry, and took a white, half-blown rose which she wore in the bosom of her pretty dress of lilac percale.  She let him have it.  Then they stood for a minute face to face and hand in hand, but the delicate perplexities of Babette, spying through her glass door, were not increased by a kiss at parting.  And the young man seemed to rush away at last in sudden haste.

“Montes dans ta chambre quelques instants, Bessie,” said the voice of madame.  And then with a gentle, decorous dignity she entered the salon.

* * * * *

When madame entered the salon, Mr. Cecil Burleigh was standing at one of the windows that gave upon the court.  He witnessed the departure of Harry Musgrave, and did not fail to recognize an Englishman in the best made of English clothes.  The reader will probably recognize him as one of the guests at the Fairfield wedding, who had shown some attention to Bessie Fairfax on her grandfather’s introduction of him as a neighbor of his in Woldshire.  He was now at Bayeux by leave of Mr. Fairfax, to see the young lady and take the sense of her opinions as to whether she would prefer to remain another year at school, or to go back to England in ten days under his escort.  The interval he was on his way to spend in Paris—­on a private errand for the government, to a highly honorable member of which he was private secretary.