"What has she been about?" he mused, "has she been speaking to that smooth-tongued, stuck-up son of a ragam.u.f.fin."

His face a.s.sumed a sour expression as the suspicion crossed his mind. After a few moments of silence, he raised his small and constantly flickering eyes, and asked in a sour tone: "Where have you been all this time?"

"I have been speaking to Mait Jacques," she replied.

"The whole time."

"Yes, all the time."

"Only to him?"

"Yes, to him alone."

Mr. Rougeant was satisfied. The idea of disbelieving his daughter never entered his head. He knew she would never debase herself by uttering a falsehood, and he quietly resumed his work. Then, after a few minutes of silence, he turned again to her: "Is Jacques gone?"

he enquired.

"I do not know," she replied.

"Well run and see, and, if he is not, tell him to come and speak to me."

An anxious look pa.s.sed over Adele's face. Fortunately, she was able to slip out of the room before her father noticed it.

"He wants to question him," she said to herself; "I shall have to warn him. My father is almost sure to find him out. Oh! I do hope that he is gone." She approached the stable, where Jacques usually spent his last half-hour. She went towards the door, opened it and called out: "Jacques."

No answer.

She joyously tripped towards the house. After a few steps she stopped. "I have not called out very loudly," she thought, "if Jacques were still here and my father were to see him, his suspicions would be aroused."

She retraced her steps, and in a half-frightened tone, wishing with all her heart that her cry might not be answered, she called out again in a louder voice: "Mait Jacques; are you about there?"

She listened eagerly. Her summons were not answered. She went towards the house and entered it, saying: "He's gone, I have not seen him."

"It does not matter much," said her father, "I will tell him what I have to say to-morrow."

Her anxiety recommenced. She looked at her father and tried to read his thoughts. In this she failed. He had one of those hard set faces the owners of which seem devoid of soul or sentiment.

When she awoke the following morning, Adele's first thoughts were about her father and his workman. What was he going to question him about? Ah! he had perhaps seen her through the window, giving a letter to the old man and cautioning him.

When they had finished breakfasting, Adele, who began to hope her father had completely forgotten all about his workman, was very much annoyed when Mr. Rougeant told her to tell Jacques to come and speak to him.

She searched out the old man, and, having found him, she said to him: "Did you see Mr. Mathers yesterday evening?"

"Yes, Miss," he answered, taking care to speak in his native tongue this time; "I saw him. He thanked me and asked a few questions about your health and Mr. Rougeant's foot."

"I am very much obliged to you," said Adele, "and now, you must come and talk to my father. I think he means to question you, but you will be on your guard; will you not?"

"Oh, he is not the man to take me in. If he asks me if you gave me a letter yesterday, or anything else concerning you, I know what to answer him."

"You will speak the truth?"

"Speak the truth and be taken in, not I; there's no harm in fibbing when it's for doing good, Miss."

"If you are prepared to utter falsehoods, Jacques, for the sake of shielding me, you will lose my approbation. I shall be very angry with you if you do so. You understand; you must not swerve from the path of truth."

"Well, I never," said Jacques, "and it was all for your sake. We shall see. I'm not going to let your father learn anything from me.

Jerusalem, I would rather pull the hair off my head."

"The plain truth," said Adele, shaking her forefinger at him and looking very severe.

"I know my work, Miss," he replied as he followed her into the house.

The farmer was seated near the fire. He did not even turn round when Jacques entered. The latter went straight up to his employer and said: "You wanted me to come and speak to you."

Adele tried to look composed, but her nerves were unsteady. She could not bear to leave the room, while the men were talking about her. No, she must hear her doom; at any rate, she must be there to try and defend herself.

"Yes," said the farmer after a while, "what was it about now? oh!

this evening----."

"Yesterday evening;" thought Adele, "he is making a mistake."

"This evening," the farmer went on, "you will carry my boots to the shoemaker's."

"All right, Sir," answered Jacques.

The young lady could not restrain a sigh of relief.

Jacques looked at her and winked--a most rude thing to do--but then Jacques did not know better.

Quoth Mr. Rougeant, his eyes fixed on the grate: "You will tell him to be as quick as he can about mending them; I mean to walk in a few days."

"All right, Sir."

"I don't want anything expensive; in fact, I want him to mend them as cheaply as he possibly can. But, you understand, I want him to repair them well."

"A good job costs money," Jacques ventured to interpose.

"I told you I don't want anything expensive," retorted the farmer angrily.

"Oh, that's all right, Sir; I'll tell him so, Sir," said the workman, frightened at Mr. Rougeant's sour tone.

"Well, you will fetch them this evening and be careful to tell him what I require; a good and inexpensive job, or I won't pay him."

"All right, Sir," said Jacques, and he left the room muttering: "He's growing from bad to worse; he is a stingy old n.i.g.g.ard."

What was Tom Soher doing all this time? He was drinking.

He had never loved Adele Rougeant, and when he saw that there was not much chance of winning her, he took to drink. In reality, he preferred his bottle to his cousin. Of course, he put all the blame on the misfortunes which he had encountered.

Once, and only once, his father tried timidly to rebuke him. "No,"