He was thus busy trying to analyze the future, when his servant entered, as he did every morning, bringing his hat and overcoat on his arm.

“Sir,” he said, with a smile which he tried to render malicious, “you have forgotten these things at the house where you spent the evening yesterday.  A servant—­on horseback too—­brought them.  He handed me at the same time this letter, and is waiting for an answer.”

Daniel took the letter, and for a minute or more examined the direction.  The handwriting was a woman’s, small and delicate, but in no ways like the long, angular hand of an American lady.  At last he tore the envelope; and at once a penetrating but delicate perfume arose, which he had inhaled, he knew but too well, in Miss Brandon’s rooms.

The letter was indeed from her, and on the top of the page bore her name, Sarah, in small blue Gothic letters.  She wrote,—­

“Is it really so, O Daniel! that you are entirely mine, and that I can count upon you?  You told me so tonight.  Do you still remember your promises?”

Daniel was petrified.  Miss Brandon had told him that she was imprudence personified; and here she gave him a positive proof of it.

Could not these few lines become a terrible weapon against her?  Did they not admit the most extraordinary interpretation?  Still, as the bearer might be impatient, the servant asked,—­

“What must I tell the man?”

“Ah, wait!” answered Daniel angrily.

And, sitting down at his bureau, he wrote to Miss Brandon,—­

“Certainly, Miss Brandon, I remember the promises you extorted from me when I was not master of myself; I remember them but too well.”

Suddenly an idea struck him; and he paused.  What!  Having been caught already in the very first trap she had prepared for his inexperience, was he to risk falling into a second?  He tore the letter he had commenced into small pieces, and, turning to his servant, said,—­

“Tell the man that I am out; and make haste and get me a carriage!”

Then, when he was once more alone, he murmured,—­

“Yes, it is better so.  It is much better to leave Miss Brandon in uncertainty.  She cannot even suspect that her driving out this morning has enlightened me.  She thinks I am still in the dark; let her believe it.”

Still this letter of hers seemed to prepare some new intrigue, which troubled Daniel excessively.  Miss Brandon was certain of achieving her end; what more did she want?  What other mysterious aim could she have in view?

“Ah!  I cannot make it out,” sighed Daniel.  “I must consult Brevan.”

On his writing-table he found that important and urgent work which the minister had intrusted to his hands still unfinished.  But the minister, the department, his position, his preferment,—­all these considerations weighed as nothing in comparison with his passion.

He went down, therefore; and, while his carriage drove to his friend’s house, he thought of the surprise he would cause Maxime.