“Ah, Mademoiselle,” he exclaimed, “I was sure when I first beheld you that you spoke my language!  And with such an accent!”

“I have studied it all my life, Vicomte,” she said, modestly, “and I had the honour to be born in your country.  I have always wished to see it again.”

Monsieur de Toqueville ventured the fervent hope that her wish might soon be gratified, but not before he returned to France.  He expressed himself in French, and in a few moments she found herself deep in a discussion with him in that tongue.  While she talked, her veins seemed filled with fire; and she was dimly and automatically aware of the disturbance about her, as though she were creating a magnetic storm that interfered with all other communication.  Mr. Holt’s nightly bezique, which he played with Susan, did not seem to be going as well as usual, and elsewhere conversation was a palpable pretence.  Mr. Spence, who was attempting to entertain the two daughters-in-law, was clearly distrait—­if his glances meant anything.  Robert and Joshua had not appeared, and Mrs. Holt, at the far end of the room under the lamp, regarded Honora from time to time over the edge of the evening newspaper.

In his capacity as a student of American manners, an unsuspected if scattered knowledge on Honora’s part of that portion of French literature included between Theophile Gautier and Gyp at once dumfounded and delighted the Vicomte de Toqueville.  And he was curious to know whether, amongst American young ladies, Miss Leffingwell was the exception or the rule.  Those eyes of his, which had paid to his hostess a tender respect, snapped when they spoke to our heroine, and presently he boldly abandoned literature to declare that the fates alone had sent her to Silverdale at the time of his visit.

It was at this interesting juncture that Mrs. Holt rattled her newspaper a little louder than usual, arose majestically, and addressed Mrs. Joshua.

“Annie, perhaps you will play for us,” she said, as she crossed the room, and added to Honora:  “I had no idea you spoke French so well, my dear.  What have you and Monsieur de Toqueville been talking about?”

It was the Vicomte who, springing to his feet, replied nimbly:  “Mademoiselle has been teaching me much of the customs of your country.”

“And what,” inquired Mrs. Holt, “have you been teaching Mademoiselle?”

The Vicomte laughed and shrugged his shoulders expressively.

“Ah, Madame, I wish I were qualified to be her teacher.  The education of American young ladies is truly extraordinary.”

“I was about to tell Monsieur de Toqueville,” put in Honora, wickedly, “that he must see your Institution as soon as possible, and the work your girls are doing.”

“Madame,” said the Vicomte, after a scarcely perceptible pause, “I await my opportunity and your kindness.”

“I will take you to-morrow,” said Mrs. Holt.