he had felt uneasy about her,
had gone to her room, and was just issuing in search of her. Gaston
resigned her, softly advised not waking her, and bade the clergyman
good-night.

But presently he turned, touched the arm of the old man, and said
meaningly:

"I know."

The rector's voice shook as he replied: "You have not spoken to her?"

"No."

"You will not speak of it?"

"No."

"Unless I should die, and she should wish it?"

"Always as she wishes."

They parted, and Gaston returned to the Court.

CHAPTER VIII. HE ANSWERS AN AWKWARD QUESTION

The next morning Brillon brought a note from Ian Belward, which said
that he was starting, and asked Gaston to be sure and come to Paris.
The note was carelessly friendly. After reading it, he lay thinking.
Presently he chanced to see Jacques look intently at him.

"Well, Brillon, what is it?" he asked genially. Jacques had come on
better than Gaston had hoped for, but the light play of his nature was
gone--he was grave, almost melancholy; and, in his way, as notable as
his master. Their life in London had changed him much. A valet in St.
James's Street was not a hunting comrade on the Coppermine River. Often
when Jacques was left alone he stood at the window looking out on the
gay traffic, scarcely stirring; his eyes slow, brooding. Occasionally,
standing so, he would make the sacred gesture. One who heard him
swear now and then, in a calm, deliberate way,--at the cook and the
porter,--would have thought the matters in strange contrast. But his
religion was a central habit, followed as mechanically as his appetite
or the folding of his master's clothes. Besides, like most woodsmen, he
was superstitious. Gaston was kind with him, keeping, however, a firm
hand till his manner had become informed by the new duties. Jacques's
greatest pleasure was his early morning visits to the stables. Here were
Saracen and Jim the broncho-sleek, savage, playful. But he touched the
highest point of his London experience when they rode in the Park.

In this Gaston remained singular. He rode always with Jacques. Perhaps
he wished to preserve one possible relic of the old life, perhaps he
liked this touch of drama; or both. It created notice, criticism, but
he was superior to that. Time and again people asked him to ride, but
he always pleaded another engagement. He would then be seen with Jacques
plus Jacques's earrings and the wonderful hair, riding grandly in the
Row. Jacque