of the neighbors drop in for a game at cards. At ten, we all wish
each other good-night.

Such is the domestic programme, varied by excursions in the
country and by occasional visits to Paris. I am naturally a man

of quiet stay-at-home habits. It is only when my mind is
disturbed that I get restless and feel longings for change.

Surely the quiet routine at St. Germain ought to be welcome to me
now? I have been looking forward to this life through a long year

of travel. What more can I wish for?
Nothing more, of course.

And yet--and yet--Stella has innocently made it harder than ever
to play the part of her "brother." The recovery of her beauty is

a subject for congratulation to her mother and her friends. How
does it affect Me?

I had better not think of my hard fate. Can I help thinking of
it? Can I dismiss from memory the unmerited misfortunes which

have taken from me, in the prime of her charms, the woman whom I
love? At least I can try.

The good old moral must be _my_ moral: "Be content with such
things as ye have."

March 15.--It is eight in the morning--and I hardly know how to
employ myself. Having finished my coffee, I have just looked

again at my diary.
It strikes me that I am falling into a bad habit of writing too

much about myself. The custom of keeping a journal certainly has
this drawback--it encourages egotism. Well, the remedy is easy.

From this date, I lock up my book--only to open it again when
some event has happened which has a claim to be recorded for its

own sake. As for myself and my feelings, they have made their
last appearance in these pages.

Seventh Extract.
June 7.--The occasion for opening my diary once more has

presented itself this morning.
News has reached me of Romayne, which is too important to be

passed over without notice. He has been appointed one of the
Pope's Chamberlains. It is also reported, on good authority, that

he will be attached to a Papal embassy when a vacancy occurs.
These honors, present and to come, seem to remove him further

than ever from the possibility of a return to his wife and child.
June 8.--In regard to Romayne, Mrs. Eyrecourt seems to be of my

opinion.
Being in Paris to-day, at a morning concert, she there met with

her old friend, Doctor Wybrow. The famous physician is suffering
from overwork, and is on his way to Italy for a few months of

rest and recreation. They took a drive together, after the
performance, in the Bois de Boulogne; and Mrs. Eyrecourt opened

her mind to the doctor, as freely as usual, on the subject of
Stella and the child. He entirely agreed (speaking in the future

interests of the boy) that precious time has been lost in
informing Romayne of the birth of an heir; and he has promised,

no matter what obstacles may be placed in his way, to make the
announcement himself, when he reaches Rome.

June 9.--Madame Villeray has been speaking to me confidentially
on a very delicate subject.

I am pledged to discontinuewriting about myself. But in these
private pages I may note the substance of what my good friend

said to me. If I only look back often enough at this little
record, I may gather the resolution to profit by her advice. In

brief, these were her words:
"Stella has spoken to me in confidence, since she met you

accidentally in the garden yesterday. She cannot be guilty of the
poor affectation of concealing what you must have already

discovered for yourself. But she prefers to say the words that
must be said to you, through me. Her husband's conduct to her is

an outrage that she can never forget. She now looks back with
sentiments of repulsion, which she dare not describe, to that

'love at first sight' (as you call it in England), conceived on
the day when they first met--and she remembers regretfully that

other love, of years since, which was love of steadier and slower
growth. To her shame she confesses that she failed to set you the

example of duty and self-restraint when you two happened to be
alone yesterday. She leaves it to my discretion to tell you that

you must see her for the future, always in the presence of some
other person. Make no reference to this when you next meet; and

understand that she has only spoken to me instead of to her
mother, because she fears that Mrs. Eyrecourt might use harsh

words, and distress you again, as she once distressed you in
England. If you will take my advice, you will ask mission" target="_blank" title="n.允许；同意；许可">permission to

go away again on your travels."
It matters nothing what I said in reply. Let me only relate that

we were interrupted by the appearance of the nursemaid at the
pavilion door.

She led the child by the hand. Among his first efforts at
speaking, under his mother's instruction, had been the effort to

call me Uncle Bernard. He had now got as far as the first
syllable of my Christian name, and he had come to me to repeat

his lesson. Resting his little hands on my knees, he looked up at
me with his mother's eyes, and said, "Uncle Ber'." A trifling

incident, but, at that moment, it cut me to the heart. I could
only take the boy in my arms, and look at Madame Villeray. The

good woman felt for me. I saw tears in her eyes.
No! no more writing about myself. I close the book again.

Eighth Extract.
July 3.--A letter has reached Mrs. Eyrecourt this morning, from

Doctor Wybrow. It is dated, "Castel Gandolpho, near Rome." Here
the doctor is established during the hot months--and here he has

seen Romayne, in attendance on the "Holy Father," in the famous
summer palace of the Popes. How he obtained the interview Mrs.

Eyrecourt is not informed. To a man of his celebrity, doors are
no doubt opened which remain closed to persons less widely known.

"I have performed my promise," he writes "and I may say for
myself that I spoke with every needful precaution. The result a

little startled me. Romayne was not merely unprepared to hear of
the birth of his child--he was physically and morally incapable

of sustaining the shock of the disclosure. For the moment, I
thought he had been seized with a fit of catalepsy. He moved,

however, when I tried to take his hand to feel the
pulse--shrinking back in his chair, and feebly signing to me to

leave him. I committed him to the care of his servant. The next
day I received a letter from one of his priestly colleagues,

informing me that he was slowly recovering after the shock that I
had inflicted, and requesting me to hold no further communication

with him, either personally or by letter. I wish I could have
sent you a more favorable report of my interference in this

painful matter. Perhaps you or your daughter may hear from him."
July 4-9.--No letter has been received. Mrs. Eyrecourt is uneasy.

Stella, on the contrary, seems to be relieved.
July 10.--A letter has arrived from London, addressed to Stella

by Romayne's English lawyers. The income which Mrs. Romayne has
refused for herself is to be legally settled on her child.

Technical particulars follow, which it is needless to repeat
here.

By return of post, Stella has answered the lawyers, declaring
that, so long as she lives, and has any influence over her son,

he shall not touch the offered income. Mrs. Eyrecourt, Monsieur
and Madame Villeray--and even Matilda--entreated her not to send

the letter. To my thinking, Stella acted with becoming spirit.
Though there is no entail, still Vange Abbey is morally the boy's

birthright--it is a cruel wrong to offer him anything else.