she want!"

Pere Jerome had heard her out, not interrupting by so much as a motion
of the hand. Now his decision was made, and he touched her softly with
the ends of his fingers.

"Madame Delphine, I want you to go at 'ome Go at 'ome."

"Wad you goin' mague?" she asked.

"Nottin'. But go at 'ome. Kip quite; don put you'se'f sig. I goin' see
Ursin. We trah to figs dat aw fo' you."

"You kin figs dad!" she cried, with a gleam of joy.

"We goin' to try, Madame Delphine. Adieu!"

He offered his hand. She seized and kissed it thrice, covering it with
tears, at the same time lifting up her eyes to his and murmuring:

"De bez man God evva mague!"

At the door she turned to offer a more conventional good-by; but he was
following her out, bareheaded. At the gate they paused an instant, and
then parted with a simple adieu, she going home and he returning for his
hat, and starting again upon his interrupted business.

* * * * *

Before he came back to his own house, he stopped at the lodgings of
Monsieur Vignevielle, but did not find him in.

"Indeed," the servant at the door said, "he said he might not return for
some days or weeks."

So Pere Jerome, much wondering, made a second detour toward the
residence of one of Monsieur Vignevielle's employes.

"Yes," said the clerk, "his instructions are to hold the business, as
far as practicable, in suspense, during his absence. Every thing is in
another name." And then he whispered:

"Officers of the Government looking for him. Information got from some
of the prisoners taken months ago by the United States brig _Porpoise_.
But"--a still softer whisper--"have no fear; they will never find him:
Jean Thompson and Evariste Varrillat have hid him away too well for
that."

CHAPTER XIII

TRIBULATION.

The Saturday following was a very beautiful day. In the morning a light
fall of rain had passed across the town, and all the afternoon you could
see signs, here and there upon the horizon, of other showers. The ground
was dry again, while the breeze was cool and sweet, smelling of wet
foliage and bringing sunshine and shade in frequent and very pleasing
alternation.

There was a walk in Pere Jerome's little garden, of which we have not
spoken, off on the right side of the cottage, with his chamber window at
one end, a few old and twisted, but blossom-laden, crape-myrtles on
either hand, now and then a rose of some unpretending varie