“Do you mean to say that I don’t love you any more?”

“I don’t know; you are no longer the same!  Don’t say no.  You don’t feel the same!  It’s all over, over, over.  I wish to die!”

With blanching face Helene again clasped her in her arms.  Did her looks, then, reveal her secret?  She kissed her, but a shudder ran through the child’s frame, and an expression of such misery crept into her face that Helene forbore to print a second kiss upon her brow.  She still kept hold of her, but neither of them uttered a word.  Jeanne’s sobbing fell to a whisper, a nervous revolt stiffening her limbs the while.  Helene’s first thought was that much notice ought not to be paid to a child’s whims; but to her heart there stole a feeling of secret shame, and the weight of her daughter’s body on her shoulder brought a blush to her cheeks.  She hastened to put Jeanne down, and each felt relieved.

“Now, be good, and wipe your eyes,” said Helene.  “We’ll make everything all right.”

The child acquiesced in all gentleness, but seemed somewhat afraid and glanced covertly at her mother.  All at once her frame was shaken by a fit of coughing.

“Good heavens! why, you’ve made yourself ill now!  I cannot stay away from you a moment.  Did you feel cold?

“Yes, mamma; in the back.”

“See here; put on this shawl.  The dining-room stove is lighted, and you’ll soon feel warm.  Are you hungry?”

Jeanne hesitated.  It was on the tip of her tongue to speak the truth and say no; but she darted a side glance at her mother, and, recoiling, answered in a whisper:  “Yes, mamma.”

“Ah, well, it will be all right,” exclaimed Helene, desirous of tranquillizing herself.  “Only, I entreat you, you naughty child, don’t frighten me like this again.”

On Rosalie re-entering the room to announce that dinner was ready, Helene severely scolded her.  The little maid’s head drooped; she stammered out that it was all very true, for she ought to have looked better after mademoiselle.  Then, hoping to mollify her mistress, she busied herself in helping her to change her clothes.  “Good gracious! madame was in a fine state!” she remarked, as she assisted in removing each mud-stained garment, at which Jeanne glared suspiciously, still racked by torturing thoughts.

“Madame ought to feel comfortable now,” exclaimed Rosalie when it was all over.  “It’s awfully nice to get into dry clothes after a drenching.”

Helene, on finding herself once more in her blue dressing-gown, gave vent to a slight sigh, as though a new happiness had welled up within her.  She again regained her old cheerfulness; she had rid herself of a burden in throwing off those bedraggled garments.  She washed her face and hands; and while she stood there, still glistening with moisture, her dressing-gown buttoned up to her chin, she was slowly approached by Jeanne, who took one of her hands and kissed it.