But he was not glum; I resented that, till Dr. John begged my pardon.  Martin did not smile as quickly as Dr. John, he was not forever ready with a simper, but when he did smile it had ten times more expression.  I liked to watch for it, for the light that came into his eyes now and then, breaking through his gravity as the sun breaks through the clouds on a dull day.

Perhaps he thought I liked to be free.  Yes, free from tyranny, but not free from love.  It is a poor thing to have no one’s love encircling you, a poor freedom that.  A little clew came to my hand one day, the other end of which might lead me to the secret of Martin’s reserve and gloom.  He and Dr. Senior were talking together, as they paced to and fro about the lawn, coming up the walk from the river-side to the house, and then back again.  I was seated just within the drawing-room window, which was open.  They knew I was there, but they did not guess how keen my hearing was for any thing that Martin said.  It was only a word or two here and there that I caught.

“If you were not in the way,” said Dr. Senior, “John would have a good chance, and there is no one in the world I would sooner welcome as a daughter.”

“They are like one another,” answered Martin; “have you never seen it?”

What more they said I did not hear, but it seemed a little clearer to me after that why Martin kept aloof from me, and left me to ride, and talk, and laugh with his friend Jack.  Why, they did not know that I was happier silent beside Martin, than laughing most merrily with Dr. John.  So little did they understand me!

Just before Lent, which was a busy season with him, Monsieur Laurentie paid us his promised visit, and brought us news from Ville-en-bois.  The money that had been lying in the bank, which I could not touch, whatever my necessities were, had accumulated to more than three thousand pounds, and out of this sum were to come the funds for making Ville-en-bois the best-drained parish in Normandy.  Nothing could exceed Monsieur Laurentie’s happiness in choosing a design for a village fountain, and in examining plans for a village hospital.  For, in case any serious illness should break out again among them, a simple little hospital was to be built upon the brow of the hill, where the wind sweeps across leagues of meadow-land and heather.

“I am too happy, madame,” said the cure; “my people will die no more of fever, and we will teach them many English ways.  When will you come again, and see what you have done for us?”

“I will come in the autumn,” I answered.

“And you will come alone?” he continued.

“Yes, quite alone,” I answered, “or with Minima only.”

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.

BREAKING THE ICE.

Yet while I told Monsieur Laurentie seriously that I should go alone to Ville-en-bois in the autumn, I did not altogether believe it.  We often speak in half-falsehoods, even to ourselves.