observation for Veronica, for to their mutual embarrassment, they caught
one another climbing cautiously up the wooden stair-case, or slipping under
the dusty joists. Again he was caught in fault. What business had he in
that loft?

He resumed his walks and prolonged them as much as possible; he resumed his
pastoral visits with a zeal which charmed the feminine portion of his
flock; but nowhere did he see or hear anything of Suzanne. That name filled
his heart, and he dreaded the least suspicion, the slightest comment.

He was seen always abroad. He fled from his house, his books, his flowers,
that little home which he loved so well when it was quiet, and where now he
heard the muttering storms; he suspected some infernal plot.

And the remembrance of that hand which was surrendered to him, and on which
he had placed his lips, that remembrance consumed his heart. He saw again
Suzanne's emotion, her large dark eyes full of amazement, yet without
anger, and he would have wished to see them again, were it only for a
second, in order to read in them the impression which his presence left
there.




XLV.


TREACHEROUS MANOEUVRE.

"He stepped more lightly than a