The Call of the Blood

There was a gentle tap on the door. Hermione went to it and opened it.

Selim stood outside with a pencil note on a salver.

"Ha! The little Townly has been!" said Artois.

"Yes, it's from her. You told her, Selim, that I was with Monsieur

Artois?"

"Yes, madame."

"Did she say anything?"

"She said, 'Very well,' madame, and then she wrote this. Then she said

again, 'Very well,' and then she went away."

"All right, Selim."

Selim departed.

"Delicious!" said Artois. "I can hear her speaking and see her drifting

away consumed by jealousy, in the fog."

"Hush, Emile, don't be so malicious."

"P'f! I must be to-day, for I too am--"

"Nonsense. Be good this evening, be very good."

"I will try."

He kissed her hand, bending his great form down with a slightly burlesque

air, and strode out without another word. Hermione sat down to read Miss

Townly's note: "Dearest, never mind. I know that I must now accustom myself to be

nothing in your life. It is difficult at first, but what is

existence but a struggle? I feel that I am going to have another of

my neuralgic seizures. I wonder what it all means?--Your, EVELYN."

Hermione laid the note down, with a sigh and a little laugh.

"I wonder what it all means? Poor, dear Evelyn! Thank God, it sometimes

means--" She did not finish the sentence, but knelt down on the carpet

and took the St. Bernard's great head in her hands.

"You don't bother, do you, old boy, as long as you have your bone. Ah,

I'm a selfish wretch. But I am going to have my bone, and I can't help

feeling happy--gloriously, supremely happy!"

And she kissed the dog's cold nose and repeated: "Supremely--supremely happy!"