mistaken? And if he had made a mistake in thinking he saw smoke
this morning, why not last night also? Yet the cure was lingering there
too long for it to be merely an empty place. Something detained him, or
why did he not come back to me? Presently a thin blue smoke curled
upward into the still air. Monsieur Laurentie was kindling a fire on the
hearth. _He_ was there then.

What would be the end of it all? My heart contracted, and my spirit
shrank from the answer that was ready to flash upon my mind. I refused
to think of the end. If Richard were ill, why, I would nurse him, as I
should have nursed him if he had always been tender and true to me. That
at least was a clear duty. What lay beyond that need not be decided
upon now. Monsieur Laurentie would tell me what I ought to do.

He came, after a long, long suspense, and opened the door, looking out
as if to make sure that I was still at my post. I sprang to my feet, and
was running forward, when he beckoned me to remain where I was. He came
across to the middle of the court, but no nearer; and he spoke to me at
that distance, in his clear, deliberate, penetrating voice.

"My child," he said, "monsieur is ill! attacked, I am afraid, by the
fever. He is not delirious at present, and we have been talking together
of many things. But the fever has taken hold upon him, I think. I shall
remain with him all the day. You must bring us what we have need of, and
leave it on the stone there, as it used to be."

"But cannot he be removed at once?" I asked.

"My dear," he answered, "what can I do? The village is free from
sickness now; how can I run the risk of carrying the fever there again?
It is too far to send monsieur to Noireau. If he is ill of it, it is
best for us all that he should remain here. I will not abandon him; no,
no. Obey me, my child, and leave him to me and to God. Cannot you
confide in me yet?"

"Yes," I said, weeping, "I trust you with all my heart."

"Go, then, and do what I bid you," he replied. "Tell my sister and Jean,
tell all my people, that no one must intrude upon me, no one must come
nearer this house than the appointed place. Monsieur le Vicaire must
remain in Ville-en-bois, and officiate for me, as though I were pursuing
my journey to England. You must think of me as one absent, yet close at
hand: that is the difference. I am here, in the path of my duty. Go, and
fulfil yours."

"Ought you not to let me share your work and your danger?" I