was both extensive and grand, but neither Lilian nor Mimmy were much pleased with the place.  The elder sister, who had talked over the matter with her school companions, expected a fine castle with turrets, battlements, and romance; and the other expected a pretty smiling house, such as princes, in her mind, ought to inhabit.

Instead of this they found an old turret, with steps so broken that M. Lacordaire did not care to ascend them, and the ruined walls of a mansion, in which nothing was to be seen but the remains of an enormous kitchen chimney.

“It was the kitchen of the family,” said the guide.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Thompson.

“And this,” said the woman, taking them into the next ruined compartment, “was the kitchen of monsieur et madame.”

“What! two kitchens?” exclaimed Lilian, upon which M. Lacordaire explained that the ancestors of the Prince de Polignac had been very great people, and had therefore required culinary performances on a great scale.

And then the woman began to chatter something about an oracle of Apollo.  There was, she said, a hole in the rock, from which in past times, perhaps more than a hundred years ago, the oracle used to speak forth mysterious words.

“There,” she said, pointing to a part of the rock at some distance, “was the hole.  And if the ladies would follow her to a little outhouse which was just beyond, she would show them the huge stone mouth out of which the oracle used to speak.”

Lilian and Mimmy both declared at once for seeing the oracle, but Mrs. Thompson expressed her determination to remain sitting where she was upon the turf.  So the guide started off with the young ladies; and will it be thought surprising that M. Lacordaire should have remained alone by the side of Mrs. Thompson?

It must be now or never, Mrs. Thompson felt; and as regarded M. Lacordaire, he probably entertained some idea of the same kind.  Mrs. Thompson’s inclinations, though they had never been very strong in the matter, were certainly in favour of the “now.”  M. Lacordaire’s inclinations were stronger.  He had fully and firmly made up his mind in favour of matrimony; but then he was not so absolutely in favour of the “now.”  Mrs. Thompson’s mind, if one could have read it, would have shown a great objection to shilly-shallying, as she was accustomed to call it.  But M. Lacordaire, were it not for the danger which might thence arise, would have seen no objection to some slight further procrastination.  His courage was beginning, perhaps, to ooze out from his fingers’ ends.

“I declare that those girls have scampered away ever so far,” said Mrs. Thompson.

“Would madame wish that I should call them back?” said M. Lacordaire, innocently.

“Oh, no, dear children! let them enjoy themselves; it will be a pleasure to them to run about the rock, and I suppose they will be safe with that woman?”

“Oh, yes, quite safe,” said M. Lacordaire; and then there was another little pause.

Mrs. Thompson was sitting on a broken fragment of a stone just outside the entrance to the old family kitchen, and M. Lacordaire was standing immediately before her.  He had in his hand a little cane with which he sometimes slapped his boots and sometimes poked about among the rubbish.  His hat was not quite straight on his head, having a little jaunty twist to one side, with reference to which, by-the-bye, Mrs. Thompson then resolved that she would make a change, should ever the gentleman become her own property.  He still wore his gloves, and was very smart; but it was clear to see that he was not at his ease.

“I hope the heat does not incommode you,” he said after a few moments’ silence.  Mrs. Thompson declared that it did not, that she liked a good deal of heat, and that, on the whole, she was very well where she was.  She was afraid, however, that she was detaining M. Lacordaire, who might probably wish to be moving about upon the rock.  In answer to which M. Lacordaire declared that he never could be so happy anywhere as in her close vicinity.

“You are too good to me,” said Mrs. Thompson, almost sighing.  “I don’t know what my stay here would have been without your great kindness.”

“It is madame that has been kind to me,” said M. Lacordaire, pressing the handle of his cane against his heart.

There was then another pause, after which Mrs. Thompson said that that was all his French politeness; that she knew that she had been very troublesome to him, but that she would now soon be gone; and that then, in her own country, she would never forget his great goodness.

“Ah, madame!” said M. Lacordaire; and, as he said it, much more was expressed in his face than in his words.  But, then, you can neither accept nor reject a gentleman by what he says in his face.  He blushed, too, up to his grizzled hair, and, turning round, walked a step or two away from the widow’s seat, and back again.

Mrs. Thompson the while sat quite still.  The displaced fragment, lying, as it did, near a corner of the building, made not an uncomfortable chair.  She had only to be careful that she did not injure her hat or crush her clothes, and throw in a word here and there to assist the gentleman, should occasion permit it.

“Madame!” said M. Lacordaire, on his return from a second little walk.

“Monsieur!” replied Mrs. Thompson, perceiving that M. Lacordaire paused in his speech.

“Madame,” he began again, and then, as he again paused, Mrs. Thompson looked up to him very sweetly; “madame, what I am going to say will, I am afraid, seem to evince by far too great audacity on my part.”

Mrs. Thompson may, perhaps, have thought that, at the present moment, audacity was not his fault.  She replied, however, that she was quite sure that monsieur would say nothing that was in any way unbecoming either for him to speak or for her to hear.

“Madame, may I have ground to hope that such may be your sentiments after I have spoken!  Madame”—and now he went down, absolutely on his knees, on the hard stones; and Mrs. Thompson, looking about into the distance, almost thought that she saw the top of the guide’s cap—“Madame, I have looked forward to this opportunity as one in which I may declare for you the greatest passion that I have ever yet felt. Madame, with all my heart and soul I love you.  Madame, I offer to you the homage of my heart, my hand, the happiness of my life, and all that I possess in this world;” and then, taking her hand gracefully between his gloves, he pressed his lips against the tips of her fingers.

If the thing was to be done, this way of doing it was, perhaps, as good as any other.  It was one, at any rate, which left no doubt whatever as to the gentleman’s intentions.  Mrs. Thompson, could she have had her own way, would not have allowed her lover of fifty to go down upon his knees, and would have spared him much of the romance of his declaration.  So also would she have spared him his yellow gloves and his polished boots.  But these were a part of the necessity of the situation, and therefore she wisely took them as matters to be passed over with indifference.  Seeing, however, that M. Lacordaire still remained on his knees, it was necessary that she should take some step toward raising him, especially as her two children and the guide would infallibly be upon them before long.

“M. Lacordaire,” she said, “you surprise me greatly; but pray get up.”

“But will madame vouchsafe to give me some small ground for hope?”

“The girls will be here directly, M. Lacordaire; pray get up.  I can talk to you much better if you will stand up, or sit down on one of these stones.”

M. Lacordaire did as he was bid; he got up, wiped the knees of his pantaloons with his handkerchief, sat down beside her, and then pressed the handle of his cane to his heart.

“You really have so surprised me that I hardly know how to answer you,” said