The Silver Lining Part 32

Going home, the topic of the conversation was Miss Le Grove, garnished with a sprinkling of Mr. Rougeant.

As for the lady whom the little rogue had styled "half-a-ton" she walked alone muttering execrations against this "little wretch," and telling herself that there were no Christians, that these women laughed at her, because she chose to remain what Providence had directed she should be, and that Mr. Rougeant was perfectly right in keeping away from people, who had nothing to do when they came out of church but to backbite their neighbours.

In future, she too would shun these sophisticated people.

And--puffing and blowing; gesticulating and perspiring; soliloquizing and threatening, she retook possession of her home, sweet home.

CHAPTER XXV.

LOVE TRIUMPHS.

"Good-morning, Mr. Rougeant," said Jacques on the Monday morning, as he perceived his employer walking about the farmyard.

"Good-morning, Jacques," responded the farmer.

"Your foot is better then?" said the workman, eager to commence the conversation, for Mr. Rougeant was already moving in a contrary direction.

"Yes, it's quite better now," replied the farmer, arresting his steps.

"Where's Miss Rougeant?" questioned Jacques.

"Rummaging the house; do you want to speak to her?"

"My wife told me that there was a long time she had not seen her.

She says she is lonely and would very much like to see Miss Rougeant. She says your daughter is so kind and so much like her mother, that she would be very thankful if Miss Rougeant would condescend to visit her once or twice while she is laid up."

At the mention of his wife, Mr. Rougeant felt sorrow in his heart.

He had loved once, but now, his nature was changed; he used to be happy and full of contentment then, although a struggling young farmer, for he had a bright, lovable and loving wife to cheer him up.

Now he was worth ten thousand pounds, and he felt the most miserable of men.

He stood still, the very picture of abject misery, not uttering a single word.

"Perhaps you will not mind telling her," said Jacques, breaking the silence.

The farmer looked up; "I shall tell her," he said, and walked away.

"Our little affair is coming off splendidly," said Adele as she tripped into the garden to speak to Jacques. "Yes, Miss, you are so clever, you deserve to succeed."

"We must not rejoice too soon; did you see Frank last night?"

"Yes, Miss."

"And he told you that he would come?"

"Yes, Miss; he gave me a letter for you but I must not give it to you now, I fancy Mr. Rougeant is watching us."

"You are quite right, leave it in the stable when you go there and I will fetch it. Has my father asked any questions?"

"Not one; he looks very sad."

"He is. It surprises me that he never questions you; he has such confidence in you; he would never think of suspecting you."

"If he asks me any questions, I'll know how to answer them. But,"

added the workman, laughing, "I must go and see how the horse is getting on. You will find the letter under the old saddle."

"Thank you very much for all your trouble," said Adele as she disappeared through the doorway.

After having read the letter which she had fetched from the stable, Adele smiled. "He will meet me near Jacques' cottage at six o'clock this evening," she said to herself. "I must try and hide my joy as much as I can, for my father will grow suspicious if he reads my happiness."

She had to keep a continual vigilance to prevent herself from smiling during the day. When evening approached, she dressed herself and proceeded towards the cottage.

The sun was setting beautifully in the west. When she reached the top of the hill, she could see him, gently sinking, as it were, into the sea, illuminating the horizon and the ocean in a flood of splendour. As it disappeared, the Hanois Lighthouse displayed its beacon light.

The visit to Mrs. Dorant was of short duration.

At half-past six, a young couple might be seen wending their way slowly through the beautiful country lanes. They talked in soft accents. Now and then Adele's low, silvery laugh sounded on the tranquil evening air.

They wandered thus for two hours. "I thought we had been out only about one hour," said Adele as Frank returned his watch to his fob.

"Love takes no account of time," he said. "Now, let us talk business. I profess to be a business man you know."

They talked about the obstacles to be vanquished, of Mr. Rougeant's wrath, of Tom Soher's jealousy.

"Be of good cheer. _Amor vincit omnia_," were Frank's last words to her that evening.

When she opened the wicket gate, Adele gave a horror-stricken start.

She perceived the form of a man, stretched at full length before the front door. She could not restrain a cry of alarm. Frank, who had followed her, hastily advanced to see what was the matter. He had not gone far, before he saw the front-door open, and Mr. Rougeant come out, holding a lighted candle in his hand.

He hastily retreated farther away and watched the trio. He could easily see them without being seen. The light that came from inside the house, and that from the candle, shone full on the group.

He saw Mr. Rougeant pick up the prostrate figure, set the man on his feet, and, after having shut the gate after him, return inside.

This man, who walked with such an unsteady gait, was Tom Soher.

Frank took the trouble to follow him home. He feared for his safety, accidents are so common with people in his state. He set his conscience at ease by seeing the tottering figure enter the house of the "Prenoms."

He pitied this slave to intemperance. He shuddered at the immense per cent. of his countrymen who were like this man.

How had Tom Soher happened to be lying before the threshold of "Les Marches?" We shall see.

That same evening, he was with a few of his sort, drinking at the "Forest Arms." He was more than half-intoxicated, when, without a word, he left the bar-room.

"Where are you going?" shouted his comrades.

"Bring him back," said some.