“I was becoming restless, when a commissionaire, one morning, brought me a letter.  It was Miss Brandon who wrote.  She asked me to be that very day, at four o’clock, in the Bois de Boulogne, near the waterfalls; that she would ride out in the afternoon with Sir Thorn; that she would escape from him, and meet me.

“As a matter of course, I was punctual; and it was well I was so, for, a few minutes after I got there, I saw her—­or rather I felt her—­coming towards me, riding at full speed.  When she reached me, she stopped suddenly, and, jumping from her horse, said to me,—­

“’They watch me so jealously, that I could not write to you till to-day.  I am deeply wounded by this want of confidence, and I do not think I can endure it any longer.  Here I am, carry me off, let us go!’

“Never, O Daniel! never have I seen her look more marvellously beautiful than she looked at that moment.  She was flushed with excitement and the rapid ride; her eyes shone with courage and passion; her lips trembled; and then she said again,—­

“’I know I am ruining myself; and you yourself—­you will probably despise me.  But never mind!  Let us be gone!’”

He paused, overcome with excitement; but, soon recovering, he continued,—­

“To hear a beautiful woman tell you that!  Ah, Daniel! that is an experience which alone is worth a man’s whole life.  And yet I had the courage, mad as I felt I was becoming, to speak to her words of calm reason.  Yes, I had the sublime courage, and the almost fortuitous control over myself, to conjure her to retreat into her house.

“She began to weep, and accused me of indifference.

“But I had discovered a way out of the difficulty, and said to her,—­

“’Sarah, go home.  Write to me what you have just told me, and I am sure I shall compel your friends to grant me your hand.’

“This she did.

“And what I had foreseen came to pass.  In the face of such evidence of what they called our madness, Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian dared not oppose our plans any longer.  After some little hesitations, and imposing certain honorable conditions, they said to Sarah and myself,—­

“‘You will have it so.  Go, then, and get married.’”

This is what Count Ville-Handry called chance, a “blessed chance,” as he said, utterly unmindful of the whole chain of circumstances which he himself related.  From the accident that had befallen M. Elgin, and the fainting-fit of Miss Brandon, to the meeting in the Bois de Boulogne and the proposed runaway-match, all seemed to him perfectly natural and simple,—­even the sudden enthusiasm of a young, frivolous woman for his political opinions, and the learning by heart of his speeches.

Daniel was amazed.  That a man like the count should be so perfectly blind to the intrigue that was going on around him, seemed to him incomprehensible.  The count, however, was not so blind, that he should not have at least suspected the nature of Daniel’s feelings.