“What is this tremendous secret?”

She did not answer the question but said abruptly: 

“M.  Bois-le-Duc tells me you are going away.”

“Going away?  Um—­um—­I don’t know,” Noel replied hesitatingly.  “I think not.  No no, M. Bois-le-Duc makes a great mistake.”

“You are not going away?” said the girl, a glad light coming into her eyes.  “What, Noel you have not come into this fortune?”

“Oh! yes, there is no doubt about that; but there are conditions, and I can’t accept them.”

“What are the conditions?”

“One is that I shall have to leave you, to give you up.”

“Noel, there would be no need of that.”

“Why, what do you mean, Marie?”

“I give you up,” said Marie proudly.  “I could never stand in your way of advancement.”

“Marie, did you not say to me most solemnly only the other night: 

  ’Il y a longtemps que je t’aime,
   Jamais je ne t’oublierai.’”

“What has that to do with it, Noel?  That does not alter the case.  It is just because of that I will not let you stay here.  You may think it an easy thing to decide now, but in after years you would regret remaining here.  With your gifts, your ambition, you would be thrown away.  No, Noel, I bid you go.  You must not stay.  Good-bye, dear one, for the last time.  You must tell them to-morrow that you will go.”

“It is impossible,” said Noel, in an angry tone.  “You can never have cared for me to give me up in a moment like this.”

“You know that is not true, Noel.  I can see into the future, and it is just because I do care so much for you that I do not wish you to waste your life here.”  She spoke with an effort, and as if she were repeating a lesson learned beforehand.

“No, that is not it,” said Noel; “I am perfectly sure you never cared for me or you could not give me up like this in a moment.”

The girl did not answer for a time, for she was deeply wounded at his want of understanding, his non-comprehension of her most unselfish motives.  Presently she turned to him, and said in a hurried tone, for she could scarcely control herself just then, “Noel, believe me it is for the best.  Good-bye.”

Before he had time to answer she had walked swiftly away, and was hid from his sight by the turn of the road.  All had happened so quickly, the momentous decision had been made so entirely without effort on his part, that his breath was fairly taken away.  But, beneath all his surprise and wounded pride was a feeling of relief scarce acknowledged to himself, though his first exclamation was one of distressed self-love, as he exclaimed angrily, “She has no feeling; she does not care.”