She had been quite unable to tell him the truth.  The manner in which he had first addressed her made it impossible for her to tell him that she was not engaged to marry Adrian Urmand,—­that she was determined, if possible, to avoid the marriage, and that she had no love for Adrian Urmand.  Had she done so, she would in so doing have asked him to come back to her.  That she should do this was impossible.  And yet as he left her, some suspicion of the truth, some half-formed idea of the real state of the man’s mind in reference to her, flashed across her own.  She seemed to feel that she was specially unfortunate, but she felt at the same time that there was no means within her reach of setting things right.  And she was as convinced as ever she had been, that her uncle would never give his consent to a marriage between her and George Voss.  As for George himself, he left her with an assured conviction that she was the promised bride of Adrian Urmand.

CHAPTER VI.

The world seemed very hard to Marie Bromar when she was left alone.  Though there were many who loved her, of whose real affection she had no doubt, there was no one to whom she could go for assistance.  Her uncle in this matter was her enemy, and her aunt was completely under her uncle’s guidance.  Madame Voss spoke to her often in these days of the coming of Adrian Urmand, but the manner of her speaking was such that no comfort could be taken from it.  Madame Voss would risk an opinion as to the room which the young man ought to occupy, and the manner in which he should be fed and entertained.  For it was thoroughly understood that he was coming on this occasion as a lover and not as a trader, and that he was coming as the guest of Michel Voss, and not as a customer to the inn.  ’I suppose he can take his supper like the other people,’ Marie said to her aunt.  And again, when the question of wine was mooted, she was almost saucy.  ‘If he’s thirsty,’ she said, ’what did for him last week, will do for him next week:  and if he’s not thirsty, he had better leave it alone.’  But girls are always allowed to be saucy about their lovers, and Madame Voss did not count this for much.

Marie was always thinking of those last words which had been spoken between her and George, and of the kiss that he had given her.  ’We used to be friends,’ he had said, and then he had declared that he had never forgotten old days.  Marie was quick, intelligent, and ready to perceive at half a glance,—­to understand at half a word, as is the way with clever women.  A thrill had gone through her as she heard the tone of the young man’s voice, and she had half told herself all the truth.  He had not quite ceased to think of her.  Then he went, without saying the other one word that would have been needful, without even looking the truth into her face.  He had gone, and had plainly given her to understand that he acceded to