Anne’s eyes filled with tears.  It hurt her to remember that she had refused to answer Mrs. Patterson’s questions.  How pale and troubled the dear face had looked!  And now she could never, never explain.  Could she ever tell Miss Drayton or Pat?  Probably not.  What a dreadful thought!  “I am so sorry, Mamzelle,” she faltered.  “Indeed, it is not my fault.  I had to promise.  I was not to tell any one till we went to Nantes.  I kept hoping we would go.  Now we never shall.  And I do want to tell them.”

Here was a clew and Mademoiselle’s quick wit followed it.  “Is it that you mean, Anne,” she asked, “that some one—­a person whose wish had the right to be regarded—­told you that you might explain the matter to your guardian when you went to Nantes?”

“Yes, Mamzelle, that was it,” Anne responded eagerly.  “He said I might tell then.”

“He,” mused Mademoiselle.  “Who, Anne?”

Anne did not answer.

“Where were you when he told you this?”

Anne hesitated, debating with herself whether her uncle would wish her to tell.  Mademoiselle changed the question.

“When he had you to promise that, were you expecting to go to Nantes?”

“Yes, Mamzelle.”  Anne was sure she might answer this.  “And then seeing Dr. La Farge changed all the plans, you know.”

Mademoiselle nodded her head.  Yes, she knew.  “I begin to understand some of the affair, Anne,” she said, thinking intently and putting her thoughts into slow English.  “I think you have been making the mistake.  This person he wished you to let a certain time lapse before the telling by you.  For some reason.  One week or two weeks or three.  It was known to him that you expected to go to Nantes?  Ah! so he did tell you to promise to await that time?  So it was!”

“I haven’t told you anything I ought not to, have I, Mamzelle?” inquired Anne, anxiously.  “He said if I told—­before we reached Nantes, you know—­it would bring him dreadful harm.”

“Indeed, no,” laughed Mademoiselle Duroc.  “You have told me nothing but that you are the so faithful, so stupid promise-keeper.  Take my word for it, Anne,” she continued gravely, “the time has long passed to which the ‘he’ wished to defer the telling about the jewels.  It is due your friends and you that you make the matter clear.  As soon as possible.  I regret that we did not understand.  I have much of interest for the secret.  But I see that it is not for me.”

Louise tapped at the door and said that Miss Anne’s trunk was ready and the cab was waiting.

Mademoiselle gave Anne a stately salute and put the little package in her hand.  “Ask Mr. Patterson to take charge of this packet for you,” she said.  “Good-by, my child. Bon voyage!”

Anne followed Louise who straightened her ribbons and tied on her hat.

“Louise,” she said, in her halting French, “I’ve not been very much trouble to you, have I?”