He moved a little away from the window, and in so doing his
foot struck against the book which Madelon had dropped on
first seeing him, and he stooped to pick it up. It was a
German story-book, full of bright coloured pictures; so he saw
as he opened it and turned over the leaves, scarcely thinking
of what he did, when his eye was suddenly arrested by the
inscription on the fly-leaf. The book had been given to
Madelon only the year before by a German lady she had met at
Chaudfontaine, and there was her name, "Madeleine Linders,"
that of the donor, the date, and below, "Hotel des Bains,
Chaudfontaine." It was a revelation to Horace. Of course he
understood it all now. Here was the clue to his confused
recollections, to the strange little scene he had just
witnessed. Another moonlit courtyard came to his remembrance,
a gleaming, rushing river, a background of shadowy hills, and
a little coy, wilful, chattering girl, with curly hair and
great brown eyes--those very eyes that had been perplexing him
not ten minutes ago.
"I think you and I have met before," he said to Madelon,
smiling; "but I daresay you don't remember much about it,
though I recollect you very well now.
Pages:
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156