there but Rose and
Aubertin. At sight of him Rose got up and left the room. But I suppose
she went to Josephine; for she returned in a few minutes, and rang the
bell, and ordered some supper to be brought up for Colonel Dujardin.

"You have not dined, I hear," said she, very coldly.

"I was afraid you were gone altogether," said the doctor: then turning
to Rose, "He told me he was going this evening. You had better stay
quiet another day or two," added he, kindly.

"Do you think so?" said Camille, timidly.

He stayed upon these terms. And now he began to examine himself. "Did
I wish him dead? I hope I never formed such a thought! I don't remember
ever wishing him dead." And he went twice a day to that place by the
stream, and thought very solemnly what a terrible thing ungoverned
passion is; and repented--not eloquently, but silently, sincerely.

But soon his impatient spirit began to torment itself again. Why did
Josephine shun him now? Ah! she loved Raynal now that he was dead. Women
love the thing they have lost; so he had heard say. In that case, the
very sight of him would of course be odious to her: he could understand
that. The absolute, unreasoning faith he once had in her had been
so rudely shaken by her marriage with Raynal, that now he could only
believe just so much as he saw, and he saw that she shunned him.

He became moody, sad, and disconsolate: and as Josephine shunned him, so
he avoided all the others, and wandered for hours by himself, perplexed
and miserable. After awhile, he became conscious that he was under a
sort of surveillance. Rose de Beaurepaire, who had been so kind to him
when he was confined to his own room, but had taken little notice of him
since he came down, now resumed her care of him, and evidently made it
her business to keep up his heart. She used to meet him out walking in
a mysterious way, and in short, be always falling in with him and trying
to cheer him up: with tolerable success.

Such was the state of affairs when the party was swelled and matters
complicated by the arrival of one we have lost sight of.

Edouard Riviere retarded his cure by an impatient spirit: but he got
well at last, and his uncle drove him in the cabriolet to his own
quarters. The news of the house had been told him by letter, but, of
course, in so vague and general a way that, thinking he knew all, in
reality he knew nothing.

Josephine had married Raynal. The marriage was sudden, but no doubt