I am glad you--" But here I was interrupted by a soft cry from Bettina, and by a half-smothered scream from Frances, both of whom deserted me suddenly and ran toward the door I had just entered.

Turning, I saw Frances with her arms about the Abbe's neck, and Bettina clasping one of his hands.
I thought the two had gone mad, but when Bettina saw my look of surprise and inquiry, she dropped his hand, came to me, and asked:-- "Did you want us to pretend that we did not know him?
If so, you should have told us." "But you don't know him," I declared.
"Perhaps I don't," she returned, laughing softly and shrugging her shoulders, "but evidently your cousin does.

If not, she should take her arms from around his neck." "But she is mistaken," I insisted.
"She seems to be convinced," answered Bettina, with a curious little glance up to me, half laughing, half inquiring.

Evidently she was doubtful whether I spoke in jest or in earnest.
Frances still clung to the Abbe, her head resting on his shoulder, so I started toward her, intending to correct her mistake.

Bettina, seeing my purpose, caught me by the arm, saying:-- "Don't you really know ?" The Abbe turned his face toward me, and when I caught a glimpse of his eyes without spectacles, I recognized George Hamilton, and almost choked myself in smothering a cry.
Frances turned to me, asking indignantly, "Why did not you tell me ?" "Because I did not know," I answered, hardly able to believe the truth.
But we had important business before us, and I knew that we should prepare for it before Lilly came in.