l my heart and soul!"

CHAPTER VIII. LOVE'S SAD ENDING

The kitchen was bright with sunshine, and the industrious bees were
buzzing around the flowers on the window-sills, while Reine was
listlessly attending to culinary duties, and preparing her father's
meal. The humiliating disclosures made by the Abbe Pernot weighed
heavily upon her mind. She foresaw that Claudet would shortly be at La
Thuiliere in order to hear the result of the cure's visit; but she did
not feel sufficiently mistress of herself to have a decisive interview
with him at such short notice, and resolved to gain at least one day
by absenting herself from the farm. It seemed to her necessary that she
should have that length of time to arrange her ideas, and evolve some
way of separating Claudet and herself without his suspecting the real
motive of rupture. So, telling La Guite to say that unexpected business
had called her away, she set out for the woods of Maigrefontaine.

Whenever she had felt the need of taking counsel with herself before
deciding on any important matter, the forest had been her refuge and her
inspiration. The refreshing solitude of the valleys, watered by living
streams, acted as a strengthening balm to her irresolute will; her soul
inhaled the profound peace of these leafy retreats. By the time she had
reached the inmost shade of the forest her mind had become calmer,
and better able to unravel the confusion of thoughts that surged like
troubled waters through her brain. The dominant idea was, that her
self-respect had been wounded; the shock to her maidenly modesty, and
the shame attendant upon the fact, affected her physically, as if she
had been belittled and degraded by a personal stain; and this
downfall caused her deep humiliation. By slow degrees, however, and
notwithstanding this state of abject despair, she felt, cropping
up somewhere in her heart, a faint germ of gladness, and, by close
examination, discovered its origin: she was now loosed from her
obligations toward Claudet, and the prospect of being once more free
afforded her immediate consolation.

She had so much regretted, during the last few weeks, the feeling of
outraged pride which had incited her to consent to this marriage; her
loyal, sincere nature had revolted at the constraint she had imposed
upon herself; her nerves had been so severely taxed by having to receive
her fiance with sufficient warmth to satisfy his expectations, and yet
not afford an