some young lady, all beauty, virtue, and accomplishment, whose soothing influence would soon heal the sorrow caused by an excess of filial sentiment.
“Halt!” shouted Raynal: “say that again in half the words.”
Perrin was nettled, for he prided himself on his colloquial style.
“You can buy a fine estate and a chaste wife with the money,” snapped this smooth personage, substituting curt brutality for honeyed prolixity.
The soldier was struck by the propositions the moment they flew at him small and solid, like bullets.
“I’ve no time,” said he, “to be running after women. But the estate I’ll certainly have, because you can get that for me without my troubling my head.”
“Is it a commission, then?” asked the other sharply.
“Of course. Do you think I speak for the sake of talking?”
And so Perrin received formal instructions to look out for a landed estate; and he was to receive a handsome commission as agent.
Now to settle this affair, and pocket a handsome percentage for himself, he had only to say “Beaurepaire.”
Well, he didn’t. Never mentioned the place; nor the fact that it was for sale.
Such are all our agents, when rival speculators. Mind that. Still it is a terrible thing to be so completely in the power of any man of the world, as from this hour Beaurepaire was in the power of Perrin the notary.
CHAPTER IV.
Edouard Riviere was unhappy. She never came out now. This alone made the days dark to him. And then he began to fear it was him she shunned. She must have seen him lie in wait for her; and so she would come out no more. He prowled about and contrived to fall in with Jacintha; he told her his grief. She assured him the simple fact was their mourning was worn out, and they were ashamed to go abroad in colors. This revelation made his heart yearn still more.
“O Jacintha,” said he, “if I could only make a beginning; but here we might live a century in the same parish, and not one chance for a poor wretch to make acquaintance.”
Jacintha admitted this, and said gentlefolks were to be pitied. “Why, if it was the likes of me, you and I should have made friends long before now.”
Jacintha herself was puzzled what to do; she would have told Rose if she had felt sure it would be well received; but she could not find out that the young lady had even noticed the existence of Edouard. But her brain worked, and lay in wait for an opportunity.
One came sooner than she expected. One morning at about six o’clock, as she came home from milking the cow, she caught sight of young Riviere trying to open the iron gate. “What is up now?” thought she; suddenly the truth flashed upon her, clear as day. She put her pail down and stole upon him. “You want to leave us another purse,” said she. He colored all over and panted.
“How did you know? how could you know? you won’t betray me? you won’t be so cruel? you promised.”
“Me betray you,” said Jacintha; “why, I’ll help you; and then they will be able to buy mourning, you know, and then they will come out, and give you a chance. You can’t open that gate, for it’s locked. But you come round to the lane, and I’ll get you the key; it is hanging up in the kitchen.”
The key was in her pocket. But the sly jade wanted him away from that gate; it commanded a view of the Pleasaunce. He was no sooner safe in the lane, than she tore up-stairs to her young ladies, and asked them with affected calm whether they would like to know who left the purse.
“Oh, yes, yes!” screamed Rose.
“Then come with me. You ARE dressed; never mind your bonnets, or you will be too late.”
Questions poured on her; but she waived all explanation, and did not give them time to think, or Josephine, for one, she knew would raise objections. She led the way to the Pleasaunce, and, when she got to the ancestral oak, she said hurriedly, “Now, mesdemoiselles, hide in there, and as still as mice. You’ll soon know who leaves the purses.”
With this she scudded to the lane, and gave Edouard the key. “Look sharp,” said she, “before they get up; it’s almost their dressing time.”
“YOU’LL SOON KNOW WHO LEAVES THE PURSES!”
Curiosity, delicious curiosity, thrilled our two daughters of Eve.
This soon began to alternate with chill misgivings at the novelty of the situation.
“She is not coming back,” said Josephine ruefully.
“No,” said Rose, “and suppose when we pounce out on him, it should be a stranger.”
“Pounce on him? surely we are not to do that?”
“Oh, y-yes; that is the p-p-programme,” quavered Rose.
A key grated, and the iron gate creaked on its hinges. They ran together and pinched one another for mutual support, but did not dare to speak.
Presently a man’s shadow came slap into the tree. They crouched and quivered, and expected to be caught instead of catching, and wished themselves safe back in bed, and all this a nightmare, and no worse.
At last they recovered themselves enough to observe that this shadow, one half of which lay on the ground, while the head and shoulders went a little way up the wall of the tree, represented a man’s profile, not his front face. The figure, in short, was standing between them and the sun, and was contemplating the chateau, not the tree.
The shadow took off its hat to Josephine, in the tree. Then would she have screamed if she had not bitten her white hand instead, and made a red mark thereon.
It wiped its brow with a handkerchief; it had walked fast, poor thing! The next moment it was away.
They looked at one another and panted. They scarcely dared do it before. Then Rose, with one hand on her heaving bosom, shook her little white fist viciously at where the figure must be, and perhaps a comical desire of vengeance stimulated her curiosity. She now glided through the fissure like a cautious panther from her den; and noiseless and supple as a serpent began to wind slowly round the tree. She soon came to a great protuberance in the tree, and twining and peering round it with diamond eye, she saw a very young, very handsome gentleman, stealing on tiptoe to the nearest flower-bed. Then she saw him take a purse out of his bosom, and drop it on the bed. This done, he came slowly past the tree again, and was even heard to vent a little innocent chuckle of intense satisfaction: but of brief duration; for, when Rose saw the purse leave his hand, she made a rapid signal to Josephine to wheel round the other side of the tree, and, starting together with admirable concert, both the daughters of Beaurepaire glided into sight with a vast appearance of composure.
Two women together are really braver than fifteen separate; but still, most of this tranquillity was merely put on, but so admirably that Edouard Riviere had no chance
