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.”