‘M.  Vandeloup,’ she said, in her clear voice, ’will you kindly come here a moment?

‘Certainly, Madame,’ said Gaston, rising with alacrity from the piano, and coming to the fireside; ‘is there anything I can do?’

‘You have heard of Miss Marchurst’s disappearance?’ she asked, looking up at him.

Vandeloup leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece, and looked down into the fire, so that the full blaze of it could strike his face.  He knew Madame Midas prided herself on being a reader of character, and knowing he could command his features admirably, he thought it would be politic to let her see his face, and satisfy herself as to his innocence.

‘Yes, Madame,’ he answered, in his calm, even tones, looking down inquiringly at the statuesque face of the woman addressing him; ‘Monsieur,’ nodding towards the door, ’told me, but I did not think it true.’

‘I’m afraid it is,’ sighed Madame, shaking her head.  ’She is going on the stage, and her father will never forgive her.’

‘Surely, Madame—­’ began Vandeloup, eagerly.

‘No,’ she replied, decisively, ’he is not a hard man, but his way of looking at things through his peculiar religious ideas has warped his judgment—­he will make no attempt to save her, and God knows what she will come to.’

‘There are good women on the stage,’ said Vandeloup, at a loss for a reply.

‘Certainly,’ returned Madame, calmly, ’there are black and white sheep in every flock, but Kitty is so young and inexperienced, that she may become the prey of the first handsome scoundrel she meets.’

Madame had intuitively guessed the whole situation, and Vandeloup could not help admiring her cleverness.  Still his face remained the same, and his voice was as steady as ever as he answered—­

‘It is much to be regretted; but still we must hope for the best.’

Was he guilty?  Madame could not make up her mind, so determined to speak boldly.

‘Do you remember that day I introduced her to you?’

Vandeloup bowed.

’And you gave me your word of honour you would not try to turn her head,’ pursued Madame, looking at him; ‘have you kept your word?’

‘Madame,’ said Vandeloup, gravely, ’I give you my word of honour that I have always treated Mlle Kitty as a child and your friend.  I did not know that she had gone until I was told, and whatever happens to her, I can safely say that it was not Gaston Vandeloup’s fault.’

An admirable actor this man, not a feature of his face moved, not a single deviation from the calmness of his speech—­not a quickening of the pulse, nor the rush of betraying blood to his fair face—­no!  Madame withdrew her eyes quite satisfied, M. Vandeloup was the soul of honour and was innocent of Kitty’s disgrace.

‘Thank God!’ she said, reverently, as she looked away, for she would have been bitterly disappointed to have found her kindness to this man repaid by base treachery towards her friend; ’I cannot tell you how relieved I feel.’