small lobby whence a narrow staircase led to the upper stories of the château; opposite this staircase a door led to the terrace, and so to the gardens; and it was by this quiet staircase, lobby, and portal, that Mademoiselle Salerne had chosen to set forth upon her voyage of observation; and, as the moment of her arrival at the foot of the stair was also the moment in which the chaplain reached the end of the library next this staircase, it fell out that his eyes, accustomed to the darkness, discerned the outline of a slender female figure flitting across the lobby, and out at the door, and his ears assured him that the light footfall, and gentle rustle of garments, were not those of old Marie, or Pauline the inferior woman-servant.
"Mademoiselle Valerie! François has persuaded her to meet him in the garden! What imprudence! If Monsieur le Comte or Monsieur Gaston hear them! My fault again, always my fault,—miserable that I am! I should have foreseen, I should have prevented!" And with these broken exclamations, proving that the good abbé's conscience was more acute than his knowledge of the world, and the art of man aging lovers, he threw his biretta upon his head, and left the house by the same path as the governess. But Adèle, light of foot and lithe of motion, was already far down the garden path in the direction she had seen Gaston take; and, in fact, pursued him so closely, that, as he passed through the wicket at the lower end of the garden, Adele, hidden in a great clump of laurel, could almost have touched him. Not daring to follow farther, the governess slowly retraced her steps toward
