inner charm of a soft melancholy to the outer luxury of the atmosphere.  I doubt whether Michel Voss had ever realised the fact that September is the kindliest of all the months, but he felt it, and enjoyed the leisure of his Sunday afternoon when he could get his niece to take a stretch with him on the mountain-side.  On these occasions Madame Voss was left at home with M. le Cure, who liked to linger over his little cup of coffee.  Madame Voss, indeed, seldom cared to walk very far from the door of her own house; and on Sundays to go to the church and back again was certainly sufficient exercise.

Michel Voss said no word about Adrian Urmand as they were ascending the hill.  He was too wise for that.  He could not have given effect to his experience with sufficient eloquence had he attempted the task while the burden of the rising ground was upon his lungs and chest.  They turned into a saw-mill as they went up, and counted the scantlings of timber that had been cut; and Michel looked at the cradle to see that it worked well, and to the wheels to see that they were in good order, and observed that the channel for the water required repairs, and said a word as to the injury that had come to him because George had left him.  ‘Perhaps he may come back soon,’ said Marie.  To this he made no answer, but continued his path up the mountain-side.  ’There will be plenty of feed for the cows this autumn,’ said Marie Bromar.  ‘That is a great comfort.’

‘Plenty,’ said Michel; ‘plenty.’  But Marie knew from the tone of his voice that he was not thinking about the grass, and so she held her peace.  But the want or plenty of the pasture was generally a subject of the greatest interest to the people of Granpere at that special time of the year, and one on which Michel Voss was ever ready to speak.  Marie therefore knew that there was something on her uncle’s mind.  Nevertheless he inspected the timber that was cut, and made some remarks about the work of the men.  They were not so careful in barking the logs as they used to be, and upon the whole he thought that the wood itself was of a worse quality.  What is there that we do not find to be deteriorating around us when we consider the things in detail, though we are willing enough to admit a general improvement?  ‘Yes,’ said he, in answer to some remarks from Marie, ’we must take it, no doubt, as God gives it to us, but we need not spoil it in the handling.  Sit down, my dear; I want to speak to you for a few minutes.’  Then they sat down together on a large prostrate pine, which was being prepared to be sent down to the saw-mill.  ‘My dear,’ said he, ’I want to speak to you about Adrian Urmand.’  She blushed and trembled as she placed herself beside him; but he hardly noticed it.  He was not quite at his ease himself, and was a little afraid of the task he had undertaken.  ’Adrian tells me that he asked you to take him as your lover, and that you refused.’