as she never looked at Magon. If she did--if she
dared to care for him--"

All at once she shivered as if with shame and fright, drew the
bedclothes about her head, and burst into a fit of weeping. When it
passed, she lay still and nerveless between the coarse sheets, and
sank into a deep sleep just as the dawn crept through the cracks of the
blind.

CHAPTER VIII

The weeks went by. Sophie had become the wife of the member for the
country, and had instantly settled down to a quiet life. This
was disconcerting to Madame Lavilette, who had hoped that out of
Farcinelle's official position she might reap some praise and pence
of ambition. Meanwhile, Ferrol became more and more a cherished and
important figure in the Manor Casimbault, where the Lavilettes had made
their home soon after the wedding. The old farmhouse had also secretly
become a rendezvous for the mysterious Nicolas Lavilette and his rebel
comrades. This was known to Mr. Ferrol. One evening he stopped Nic as he
was leaving the house, and said:

"See, Nic, my boy, what's up? I know a thing or so--what's the use of
playing peek-a-boo?"

"What do you know, Ferrol?"

"What's between you and Vanne Castine, for instance. Come, now, own up
and tell me all about it. I'm British; but I'm Nic Lavilette's friend
anyhow."

He insinuated into his tone that little touch of brogue which he used
when particularly persuasive. Nic put out his hand with a burst of
good-natured frankness.

"Meet me in the store-room of the old farmhouse at nine o'clock, and
I'll tell you. Here's a key." Handing over the key, he grasped Ferrol's
hand with an effusive confidence, and hurried out. Nic Lavilette was
now an important person in his own sight and in the sight of others in
Bonaventure. In him the pomp of his family took an individual form.

Earlier than the appointed time, Ferrol turned the key and stepped
inside the big despoiled hallway of the old farmhouse. His footsteps
sounded hollow in the empty rooms. Already dust had gathered, and an air
of desertion and decay filled the place in spite of the solid timbers
and sound floors and window-sills. He took out his watch; it was ten
minutes to nine. Passing through the little hallway to the store-room,
he opened the door. It was dark inside. Striking a match, he saw a
candle on the window-sill, and, going to it, he lighted it with a flint
and steel lying near. The window was shut tight. From curiosity only he
tried to op