his duties that morning, and never did he more fully merit the name of “Happy Charlie” bestowed on him by his comrades in the gallant 22nd than he did on the morning in question.  The truth was he was beginning to tire of old Pierre Moullin’s determined refusal to have anything to say to him in the character of son-in-law.  He had made up his mind (and being of a hopeful nature, considered more than half the battle was fought in consequence), that come what might, he would prevail on Marguerite to marry him at once, and trust to gain her Father’s forgiveness when the deed was done beyond recall.  And so our friend Charlie whistled and sang through this day, building all sorts of pleasant castles about his future life, little thinking what a train was being laid, to which, if the match were applied, he and his castles would be blown up in a more sanguinary, if not more decisive manner, than these airy fabrications generally have to yield to!

Hirzel had been detained on various pretexts by his Father; in consequence he was rather late in starting for this important business on which he was to be despatched.  From the time he managed to get off, it was not at all likely that he could be back before 10 o’clock.  Marguerite’s heart quite misgave her when she heard this, but as time moved on, and it came to half-past 7, she was re-assured to find that Jacques Gaultier was putting away his tools, and finally left the house, saying that he had “work for himself at home, but would return the following morning to finish repairing those rafters that had so suddenly got out of repair.”

Matters seemed better still when her Father said he did not feel at all himself that night, and that he thought he would go off to bed.  Marguerite wished him “Good night;” and at 8 o’clock found herself alone and mistress of her own actions.  She might now have brought Charlie into the house, but that she remembered her Father’s prohibition of such a thing; and at least she thought it best and fittest to leave him master in his own house, at the same time reserving to herself liberty to control her own actions.  This was fair enough.

At about 8 o’clock, as agreed on, Marguerite took her little lantern, and going round the path to where they had been standing two evenings before, she flashed the light three times trusting that Charlie would be able to see it.  Meanwhile Jacques had come out from one of the mill sheds, where he had been concealed, and went quickly up to the room behind the granary, only pausing on his way to tell old Pierre that he was there.

We will leave him waiting for his prey, with a dark sardonic smile on his ill-favoured countenance, and return to Marguerite, who is waiting in the granary for her lover, confident that “all is well,” and having no thoughts but pleasant ones concerning the coming meeting.  Even the remembrance of Hirzel’s absence brings no disquietude with it.  Her thoughts shape themselves into a blessing when her brother’s bright manly face comes before her, and then she bends all her attention to listen for Charlie’s approach.