passed through the village, a branch of palm against the rail of the
balcony--my sign, you understand. The innkeeper next door displays
a branch of pine, which, I notice, is more attractive. Every man
his day. One does not catch rabbits with a dead ferret. That is
the church--will you see it? No? Well, some other day. I will
guide you through the village. The walk will give me appetite,
which I sometimes require, for my cook is one whose husband has left
her.'



CHAPTER VIII. THE LOVE LETTER.



'I must mix myself with action lest I wither by despair.'

'No one,' Conyngham heard a voice exclaiming as he went into the
garden on returning from his fruitless ride, 'no one knows what I
have suffered.'

He paused in the dark doorway, not wishing to intrude upon Estella
and her visitors; for he perceived the forms of three ladies seated
within a miniature jungle of bamboo, which grew in feathery
luxuriance around a fountain. It was not difficult to identify the
voice as that of the eldest lady, who was stout, and spoke in deep,
almost manly tones. So far as he was able to judge, the suffering
mentioned had left but small record on its victim's outward
appearance.