Norbert looked on whilst this fair young creature busied herself in her work of charity, and then he silently placed two louis from the money he had borrowed, on the table, and left the cottage.  Diana followed him, and, laying her finger upon her lips with the significant word “to-morrow,” turned down the path that led to her father’s house.  Norbert could hardly believe his senses when he found himself again alone.  Yes, this lovely girl had almost confessed her affection for him, and he was ready to pour out his life blood for her.  He tore up the letter which had cost him so much trouble to compose, for he felt that he could make no use of it.  He had now no anxieties regarding the future, and he thanked Providence for having caused him to meet Diana de Laurebourg.  It never entered his brain that this apparently frank and open-hearted girl had materially furthered the acts of Providence.  At supper that night he was so gay, and in such excellent spirits, that even his father’s attention was at last attracted.

“I would lay a wager, my boy,” remarked the Duke, “that you have had a good day’s sport.”

“You would win your wager,” answered the young man boldly.

His father did not pursue the subject; but as Norbert felt that he must give some color to his assertion, he stopped the next day, and purchased some quails and a hare.  He waited fully half an hour for Diana; and when she did appear, her pale face and the dark marks under her eyes showed that anxiety had caused her to pass a sleepless night.

No sooner had she parted from Norbert than she saw the risk that she was running by her imprudent conduct.  She was endangering her whole future and her reputation,—­all indeed that is most precious to a young girl.  For an instant the thought of confiding all to her parents entered her brain; but she rejected the idea almost as soon as she had conceived it, for she felt that her father would believe that the parsimonious Duke de Champdoce would never consent to such a marriage, and that her entire liberty would be taken from her, and that she might even be sent back to the convent.

“I cannot stop now,” she murmured, “and must be content to run all risks to effect an object in which I am now doubly interested.”

Diana and Norbert had a long conversation together on this day in a spot which had become so dear to them both, and it was only the approach of a peasant that recalled the girl to the sense of her rash imprudence, and she insisted on going on her ostensible errand of charity.  Norbert, as before, escorted her, and even went so far as to offer his arm, upon which she pressed when the road was steep or uneven.