“And how do you know that?” asked Jean.

“Monsieur le Cure told me.  I soon found that nothing makes your godfather happier than to talk of you, and in our morning walks he tells me your history.  Tell me why you refused these good marriages.”

“Simply because I thought it better not to marry at all than to marry without love,” was Jean’s frank avowal.

“I think so, too,” said Bettina.

She looked at him.  He looked at her, and suddenly, to the great surprise of both, they found nothing more to say.  Fortunately, at this moment Harry and Bella burst into the room with an invitation to see their ponies.

IV.—­Bettina’s Confession

Three weeks, during which Longueval has been crowded with visitors, have passed, and the time has come for Jean to take the road for the annual artillery practice.  He will be away for twenty days, and, while he wishes to be off, he wonders how those twenty days will pass without a sight of Bettina, for now he frankly adores her.  He is happy and he is miserable.  He knows by every action and every word that she loves him as truly as he loves her.  But he feels it his duty to fight against his own heart’s wish, lest the penniless lieutenant might be thought to covet the riches of the young heiress.

But he could not drag himself away without one last meeting.  Yet when he saw how anxious Bettina was to please him and make him happy with her friendship, he was afraid to hold her in his arms lest he might be tempted to tell her how full his heart was with love for her.  She excused herself to Paul de Lavardens so that she might give his dance to Jean, but Jean declined the favour on the plea that he was not feeling well, and, to save himself, he hastened off without even shaking her hand.

But all this only told his secret the more clearly to the heart that loved him.

“I love him, dear Susie,” said Bettina that night, “and I know that he loves me for myself; not for the money I possess.”

“You are sure, my dear?”

“Yes; for he will not speak; he tries to avoid me.  My horrid money, which attracts others to me, is the thing that keeps him from declaring his love.”

“Be very sure, my dear, for you know you might have been a marchioness or a princess if you had wished.  You are sure you will not mind being plain Madame Reynaud?”

“Absolutely; for I love him!”

“Now let me make a proposal,” Bettina went on.  “Jean is going away to-morrow; I shall not see him for three weeks, and that will be time to know my own mind.  In three weeks may I go and ask him myself if he will have me for his wife?  Tell me, Susie, may I?”

Of course her sister could but consent, and Bettina was happy.

Next morning she had a wild desire to wave Jean a good-bye.  In the pouring rain she made her way through the woods to the terrace by the road, her dress torn by the thorns, and her umbrella lost, to wave to him as he passed, saying to herself that this would show him how dear he was in her thoughts.