ning approached, she dressed
herself and proceeded towards the cottage.

The sun was setting beautifully in the west. When she reached the
top of the hill, she could see him, gently sinking, as it were, into
the sea, illuminating the horizon and the ocean in a flood of
splendour. As it disappeared, the Hanois Lighthouse displayed its
beacon light.

The visit to Mrs. Dorant was of short duration.

At half-past six, a young couple might be seen wending their way
slowly through the beautiful country lanes. They talked in soft
accents. Now and then Adele's low, silvery laugh sounded on the
tranquil evening air.

They wandered thus for two hours. "I thought we had been out only
about one hour," said Adele as Frank returned his watch to his fob.

"Love takes no account of time," he said. "Now, let us talk
business. I profess to be a business man you know."

They talked about the obstacles to be vanquished, of Mr. Rougeant's
wrath, of Tom Soher's jealousy.

"Be of good cheer. _Amor vincit omnia_," were Frank's last words to
her that evening.

When she opened the wicket gate, Adele gave a horror-stricken start.
She perceived the form of a man, stretched at full length before the
front door. She could not restrain a cry of alarm. Frank, who had
followed her, hastily advanced to see what was the matter. He had
not gone far, before he saw the front-door open, and Mr. Rougeant
come out, holding a lighted candle in his hand.

He hastily retreated farther away and watched the trio. He could
easily see them without being seen. The light that came from inside
the house, and that from the candle, shone full on the group.

He saw Mr. Rougeant pick up the prostrate figure, set the man on his
feet, and, after having shut the gate after him, return inside.

This man, who walked with such an unsteady gait, was Tom Soher.
Frank took the trouble to follow him home. He feared for his safety,
accidents are so common with people in his state. He set his
conscience at ease by seeing the tottering figure enter the house of
the "Prenoms."

He pitied this slave to intemperance. He shuddered at the immense
per cent. of his countrymen who were like this man.

How had Tom Soher happened to be lying before the threshold of "Les
Marches?" We shall see.

That same evening, he was with a few of his sort, drinking at the
"Forest Arms." He was more than half-intoxicated, when, without a
word, he left the bar-room.

"Where are you going?"