Edouard Riviere contrived one Saturday to work off all arrears of business, and start for Beaurepaire.He had received a very kind letter from Rose, and his longing to see her overpowered him.On the road his eyes often glittered, and his cheek flushed with expectation.At last he got there.His heart beat: for four months he had not seen her.He ran up into the drawing-room, and there found the baroness alone; she welcomed him cordially, but soon let him know Rose and her sister were at Frejus.His heart sank.
Frejus was a long way off.But this was not all.Rose's last letter was dated from Beaurepaire, yet it must have been written at Frejus.He went to Jacintha, and demanded an explanation of this.
The ready Jacintha said it looked as if she meant to be home directly; and added, with cool cunning, "That is a hint for me to get their rooms ready.""This letter must have come here enclosed in another," said Edouard, sternly.
"Like enough," replied Jacintha, with an appearance of sovereign indifference.
Edouard looked at her, and said, grimly, "I will go to Frejus.""So I would," said Jacintha, faltering a little, but not perceptibly; "you might meet them on the road, if so be they come the same road; there are two roads, you know."Edouard hesitated; but he ended by sending Dard to the town on his own horse, with orders to leave him at the inn, and borrow a fresh horse."I shall just have time," said he.He rode to Frejus, and inquired at the inns and post-office for Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire.They did not know her; then he inquired for Madame Raynal.No such name known.He rode by the seaside upon the chance of their seeing him.He paraded on horseback throughout the place, in hopes every moment that a window would open, and a fair face shine at it, and call him.At last his time was up, and he was obliged to ride back, sick at heart, to Beaurepaire.He told the baroness, with some natural irritation, what had happened.She was as much surprised as he was.
"I write to Madame Raynal at the post-office, Frejus," said she.
"And Madame Raynal gets your letters?"
"Of course she does, since she answers them; you cannot have inquired at the post.""Why, it was the first place I inquired at, and neither Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire nor Madame Raynal were known there."Jacintha, who could have given the clew, seemed so puzzled herself, that they did not even apply to her.Edouard took a sorrowful leave of the baroness, and set out on his journey home.
Oh! how sad and weary that ride seemed now by what it had been coming.His disappointment was deep and irritating; and ere he had ridden half way a torturer fastened on his heart.That torture is suspicion; a vague and shadowy, but gigantic phantom that oppresses and rends the mind more terribly than certainty.In this state of vague, sickening suspicion, he remained some days: then came an affectionate letter from Rose, who had actually returned home.In this she expressed her regret and disappointment at having missed him; blamed herself for misleading him, but explained that their stay at Frejus had been prolonged from day to day far beyond her expectation."The stupidity of the post-office was more than she could account for," said she.But, what went farthest to console Edouard, was, that after this contretemps she never ceased to invite him to come to Beaurepaire.Now, before this, though she said many kind and pretty things in her letters, she had never invited him to visit the chateau; he had noticed this."Sweet soul," thought he, "she really is vexed.I must be a brute to think any more about it.
Still"--
So this wound was skinned over.
At last, what he called his lucky star ordained that he should be transferred to the very post his Commandant Raynal had once occupied.He sought and obtained permission to fix his quarters in the little village near Beaurepaire, and though this plan could not be carried out for three months, yet the prospect of it was joyful all that time--joyful to both lovers.Rose needed this consolation, for she was very unhappy: her beloved sister, since their return from Frejus, had gone back.The flush of health was faded, and so was her late energy.She fell into deep depression and languor, broken occasionally by fits of nervous irritation.
She would sit for hours together at one window languishing and fretting.Can the female reader guess which way that window looked?
Now, Edouard was a favorite of Josephine's; so Rose hoped he would help to distract her attention from those sorrows which a lapse of years alone could cure.
On every account, then, his visit was looked forward to with hope and joy.
He came.He was received with open arms.He took up his quarters at his old lodgings, but spent his evenings and every leisure hour at the chateau.
He was very much in love, and showed it.He adhered to Rose like a leech, and followed her about like a little dog.
This would have made her very happy if there had been nothing great to distract her attention and her heart; but she had Josephine, whose deep depression and fits of irritation and terror filled her with anxiety; and so Edouard was in the way now and then.On these occasions he was too vain to see what she was too polite to show him offensively.
But on this she became vexed at his obtuseness.
"Does he think I can be always at his beck and call?" thought she.
"She is always after her sister," said he.
He was just beginning to be jealous of Josephine when the following incident occurred:--Rose and the doctor were discussing Josephine.Edouard pretended to be reading a book, but he listened to every word.
Dr.Aubertin gave it as his opinion that Madame Raynal did not make enough blood.
"Oh! if I thought that!" cried Rose.
"Well, then, it is so, I assure you."
"Doctor," said Rose, "do you remember, one day you said healthy blood could be drawn from robust veins and poured into a sick person's?""It is a well-known fact," said Aubertin.
"I don't believe it," said Rose, dryly.
"Then you place a very narrow limit to science," said the doctor, coldly.
