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286 deep well-heads of life, and was drawing up waters wherewith to assuage, if possible, that crying thirst which the shallow brooks and noisy runlets she had known could never do, when she heard a rapid step approaching on the road, and turned, half-dreaming still, to find Melchior close to her.

Her eyes, had he read them aright, would have told him how she resented the intrusion. She had thought but little of the man since Hatty's attack. She knew his sittings were nearly over, and that business called him back to Paris the end of the week. As she meant to avoid seeing him again, she hoped this disagreeable episode was over, and that she should hear no more of Monsieur Melchior. But now, here he was, and she felt that some definite line of conduct must be adopted to stave off the danger that was at hand. Her wits, though unpleasantly startled, were not disconcerted. She knew it was needful that she should have them all at her command.

"Good evening, mademoiselle," he began airily, taking a cigar from his red lips, and showing his brilliant teeth. "We have not met for many days, and I was anxious to see you before I return to Paris."

"You are leaving so soon, monsieur?" she said.

"The day after to-morrow."

She turned, and began leisurely to descend the hill. He continued—

"Now, though our acquaintance has been a short one, I want you to know that you have made a very deep impression on my heart, an impression that will not be effaced by absence. You have in me, mademoiselle, an