"Hercules at the distaff," said Coventry gaily, and down he sat in the

long-desired seat. Jean put the basket on his knee, and as he surveyed

it, as if daunted at his task, she leaned back, and indulged in a

musical little peal of laughter charming to hear. Lucia sat dumb with

surprise, to see her proud, indolent cousin obeying the commands of a

governess, and looking as if he heartily enjoyed it. In ten minutes she

was as entirely forgotten as if she had been miles away; for Jean seemed

in her wittiest, gayest mood, and as she now treated the "young master"

like an equal, there was none of the former meek timidity. Yet often her

eyes fell, her color changed, and the piquant sallies faltered on her

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tongue, as Coventry involuntarily looked deep into the fine eyes which

had once shone on him so tenderly in that mimic tragedy. He could not

forget it, and though neither alluded to it, the memory of the previous

evening seemed to haunt both and lend a secret charm to the present

moment. Lucia bore this as long as she could, and then left the room

with the air of an insulted princess; but Coventry did not, and Jean

feigned not to see her go. Bella was fast asleep, and before he knew how

it came to pass, the young man was listening to the story of his

companion's life. A sad tale, told with wonderful skill, for soon he was

absorbed in it. The basket slid unobserved from his knee, the dog was

pushed away, and, leaning forward, he listened eagerly as the girl's low

voice recounted all the hardships, loneliness, and grief of her short

life. In the midst of a touching episode she started, stopped, and

looked straight before her, with an intent expression which changed to

one of intense contempt, and her eye turned to Coventry's, as she said,

pointing to the window behind him, "We are watched."

"By whom?" he demanded, starting up angrily.

"Hush, say nothing, let it pass. I am used to it."

"But I am not, and I'll not submit to it. Who was it, Jean?" he

answered hotly.

She smiled significantly at a knot of rose-colored ribbon, which a

little gust was blowing toward them along the terrace. A black frown

darkened the young man's face as he sprang out of the long window and

went rapidly out of sight, scrutinizing each green nook as he passed.

Jean laughed quietly as she watched him, and said softly to herself,

with her eyes on the fluttering ribbon, "That was a fortunate accident,

and a happy inspiration. Yes, my dear Mrs. Dean, you will find that

playing the spy will only get your mistress as well as yourself into

trouble. You would not be warned, and you must take the consequences,

reluctant as I am to injure a worthy creature like yourself."




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