aid the
doctor, authoritatively.

"Prescribe some of your nice tonics for me, doctor," said Josephine,
coaxingly.

"No! I can't do that; you are in the hands of another practitioner."

"What does that matter? You were at Paris."

"It is not the etiquette in our profession to interfere with another
man's patients."

"Oh, dear! I am so sorry," began Josephine.

"I see nothing here that my good friend Mivart is not competent to deal
with," said the doctor, coldly.

Then followed some general conversation, at the end of which the doctor
once more laid his commands on them to stay another fortnight where they
were, and bade them good-by.

He was no sooner gone than Rose went to the door of the kitchen, and
called out, "Madame Jouvenel! Madame Jouvenel! you may come into the
garden again."

The doctor drove away; but, instead of going straight to Beaurepaire,
he ordered the driver to return to the town. He then walked to Mivart's
house.

In about a quarter of an hour he came out of it, looking singularly
grave, sad, and stern.

CHAPTER XVII.

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