countable, that have made me watch all night for a solution, and I have not yet found it."
The tone was peculiar; my veins thrilled; he saw me shiver.
"Are you afraid? Whether is it of my words or that red jealous eye just winking itself out?"
"I am cold; the night grows dark and late, and the air is changed; it is time to go in."
"It is little past eight, but you shall go in soon. Answer me only this question."
Yet he paused ere he put it. The garden was truly growing dark; dusk had come on with clouds, and drops of rain began to patter through the trees. I hoped he would feel this, but, for the moment, he seemed too much absorbed to be sensible of the change.
"Mademoiselle, do you Protestants believe in the supernatural?"
"There is a difference of theory and belief on this point amongst Protestants, as amongst other sects," I answered. "Why, monsieur, do you ask such a question?"
"Why do you shrink and speak so faintly? Are you superstitious?"
"I am constitutionally nervous. I dislike the
