During the weeks that followed I found that there was, in fact, plenty for me to do were the estates to be properly worked--to be administered as we Englishmen are called upon to treat our property to-day, that is to say, like a sponge, to be squeezed to its last drop.

I soon discovered that the Vicomte was in the hands of old-fashioned stewards, who, besides feathering their own nests, were not making the best of the land.

My conscience, it must be admitted, was at work again--and I had thought it finally vanquished.
Here was I, admitted to the Hotel Clericy--welcomed in the family circle, and trusted there in the immediate vicinity of and with daily access to as innocent and trusting a soul as ever stepped from a French convent.

I--a wolf who had not hitherto even troubled to cover my shaggy sides with a fleece.

What could I do?
Lucille was so gay, so confiding, in a pretty girlish way which never altered as we came to know each other better.