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"Poor child!" said the lady when she had heard the sobbed confession,

"you are indeed in love And Prosper le Gai is your lover? And you are

Isoult la Desirous? So these notches declare at least: they are yours,

I suppose?"

"Yes, indeed, ma'am," said Isoult; "but he is not my lover He is my

hed--"they are always

the master If we are the mistress we are lucky And do you love him

so irl, silly girl! How much do you love him now?"

"I could not tell you, ma'am"

"Could you tell him then?"

"Ah, no, no!"

"But you have told him, silly?"

"No, ma'am, indeed"

"It needs feords, you must know"

"They are more than I can dare, ma'am"

"It can be done without words at all Come here, Isoult Listen"

She whispered in her ear

Isoult grew very grave Her eyes ide at this minute, all black,

and not a shred of colour was left in her face

"Ah, never!" she cried