‘Try to sleep, my child, and don’t worry your dear brain with plans,’ she said, and, with a motherly kiss, returned to the little salon to enjoy the rare luxury of recalling old memories she had shared with the friend of her youth.  They sat far on into the night, and before they parted Mrs. Fordyce was in full possession of the whole story of these weary and sordid years through which Henrietta Bonnemain had uncomplainingly borne her burden of poverty and care.

‘Then the Colonel turned up,’ she concluded, with a curious little tender smile; ’just when my affairs were at the lowest ebb he came here to visit an old regimental friend who lives over the way.  So we met, and both being unattached, we drew to each other, and next month we are to be married.’

’Tell me about him, Henrietta, tell me all about him.  I declare I am as silly and curious as a school-girl—­far more curious about this new lover of yours than I ever was about the old.’

’There is no comparison between the two, Isabel—­none at all.  Captain Bonnemain was a good man, and he loved me dearly, but it is nearly always a mistake to marry a foreigner.  It seems a cruel thing to say, but I never felt to poor Louis as I felt to the noble Englishman who has done me so great an honour.’

Her eyes were full of tears.  Mrs. Fordyce saw that she was deeply moved.

’I do not know what he sees in me.  He is so handsome, so noble, and so rich, he might marry whom he willed.  He has no relatives to be angry over it; and he says, if it pleases me, we can buy a place in Scotland, on the very shores of the Gairloch.  Think of that, Isabel; think of your exiled Henrietta returning to that.  God is too good, and I am too happy.’

She bent her head and wept, and these tears betrayed what her exile had been to the Scotchwoman’s heart.  Mrs. Fordyce was scarcely less moved.  It was a pathetic and beautiful romance.

The Scotch travellers spent a happy week in the old Flemish town; and Gladys, who had the artist’s quick eye for beauty of colour and picturesqueness of detail, carried away with her many little ‘bits,’ to be finished and perfected at home.

Madame Bonnemain journeyed with them to Brussels many times, but declined their invitation to accompany them to Paris.  They would all meet, she said, after a certain happy event was over, in the dear land over the sea.

George Fordyce alone joined them in Paris, and, somewhat to his aunt’s distress, constituted himself at once as cavalier to Gladys.  Often, very often, the good lady was on the point of speaking plainly to him, but, remembering her husband’s warning, decided to let matters take their course.  She watched Gladys narrowly, however, but could discover nothing in her demeanour but a frank kindliness, almost such as she might have displayed towards a brother.  George Fordyce, who had really learned to care for the girl, felt that the close companionship of these days in Paris had not advanced his cause.  He did not know that her mind was so engrossed by great plans and high ideals for the life of the coming winter that she had no time to bestow on nearer interests.  He was a prudent youth, and decided to bide his time.