r
master,--

"Have you anything against me?"

"No, mademoiselle," he answered, "No--" [a pause] "On the contrary."

"You seemed annoyed the other day to hear I was an honest girl."

"No, I only wished to know--" [a pause] "But you would not tell me--"

"On my word!" she said, "I will tell you the whole truth."

"The whole truth about--my father?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"Your father," she said, looking full into her master's eye, "was a
worthy man--he liked a joke--What of that?--there was nothing in it.
But, poor dear man, it wasn't the will that was wanting. The truth is,
he had some spite against you, I don't know what, and he meant--oh! he
meant you harm. Sometimes he made me laugh; but there! what of that?"

"Well, Flore," said the heir, taking her hand, "as my father was
nothing to you--"

"What did you suppose he was to me?" she cried, as if offended by some
unworthy suspicion.

"Well, but just listen--"

"He was my benefactor, that was all. Ah! he would have liked to make
me his wife, but--"

"But," said Rouget, taking the hand which Flore had snatched away from
him, "if he was nothing to you you can stay here with me, can't you?"

"If you wish it," she said, dropping her eyes.

"No, no! if you wish it, you!" exclaimed Rouget. "Yes, you shall be
--mistress here. All that is here shall be yours; you shall take care
of my property, it is almost yours now--for I love you; I have always
loved you since the day you came and stood there--there!--with bare
feet."

Flore made no answer. When the silence became embarrassing,
Jean-Jacques had recourse to a terrible argument.

"Come," he said, with visible warmth, "wouldn't it be better than
returning to the fields?"

"As you will, Monsieur Jean," she answered.

Nevertheless, in spite of her "as you will," Jean-Jacques got no
further. Men of his nature want certainty. The effort that they make
in avowing their love is so great, and costs them so much, that they
feel unable to go on with it. This accounts for their attachment to
the first woman who accepts them. We can only guess at circumstances
by results. Ten months after the death of his father, Jean-Jacques
changed completely; his leaden face cleared, and his whole countenance
breathed happiness. Flore exacted that he should take minute care of
his person, and her own vanity was gratified in seeing him
well-dressed; she always stood on the sill of the door, and watched
him starting for a