She had callers presently—the Sieur Michel and his daughter. I went away, then, for a walk, and, after a time, strolled into the north trail. Crossing a mossy glade, in a circle of fragrant cedar, I sat down to rest. The sound of falling water came to my ear through thickets of hazel and shadberry. Suddenly I heard a sweet voice singing a love-song of Provence—the same voice, the same song, I had heard the day I came half fainting on my horse. Somebody was coming near. In a moment I saw Louise before me.
"What, ma'm'selle!" I said; "alone in the woods!"
"Not so," said she. "I knew you were here—somewhere, and—and—well, I thought you might be lonely."
"You are a good angel," I said, "always trying to make others happy."
"Eh bien," said she, sitting beside me, "I was lonely myself. I cannot read or study. I have neglected my lessons; I have insulted the tutor—threw my book at him, and walked away, for he sputtered at me. I do not know what is the matter. I know I am very
