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 per