My stay at La Terrasse was prolonged a fortnight beyond the close of the vacation. Mrs. Bretton’s kind management procured¹ me this respite². Her son having one day delivered the dictum that “Lucy was not yet strong enough to go back to that den³ of a pensionnat,” she at once drove over to the Rue⁴ Fossette, had an interview with the directress, and procured the indulgence, on the plea of prolonged rest and change being necessary to perfect recovery. Hereupon, however, followed an attention I could very well have dispensed⁵ with, viz — a polite call from Madame Beck.

That lady — one fine day — actually came out in a fiacre as far as the chateau⁷. I suppose she had resolved within herself to see what manner of place Dr. John inhabited. Apparently⁸, the pleasant site and neat interior surpassed her expectations; she eulogized all she saw, pronounced the blue salon⁹ “une pièce magnifique,” profusely¹⁰ congratulated me on the acquisition of friends, “tellement dignes, aimables, et respectables,” turned also a neat compliment in my favour, and, upon Dr. John coming in, ran up to him with the utmost buoyancy, opening at the same time such a fire of rapid language, all sparkling with felicitations and protestations about his “chateau,”— “madame sa mère, la digne chatelaine:” also his looks; which, indeed, were very flourishing, and at the moment additionally embellished¹¹ by the good-natured but amused smile with which he always listened to Madame’s fluent and florid French. In short, Madame shone in her very best phase that day, and came in and went out quite a living catherine-wheel of compliments, delight, and affability. Half purposely, and half to ask some question about school-business, I followed her to the carriage, and looked in after she was seated and the door closed. In that brief fraction of time what a change had been

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