Marie stood still just where she had found her mother seated on that evening which it seemed to the girl had begun all her misery; but till now through all there had been hope--the hope given by disbelief in Leon's engagement to Elise Lesage. Now there was the sad, terrible certainty that Leon believed her false. Marie knew that though she had never pledged faith, still her eyes had shown Leon feelings which no other man had seen in them. For a moment she felt nerved to a kind of desperation: she would go and seek Leon, and tell him the truth that some one had set on foot this false report of her promise to Nicolas Marais. She turned again toward the high-road, and then her heart sank. How could she seek Leon? He did not love her, and if she made this confession would it not be a tacit owning of love for himself? The weight at her heart seemed to burden her limbs: she dragged on toward home wearily and slowly. The road turns suddenly into St. Gertrude, and takes a breathing-space at a sharp angle with a breadth of grass, bordered by a clump of nut trees. Before Marie reached the nut trees she saw Leon Roussel standing beside them. She stopped, but he had been waiting for her coming: he came forward to meet her. When he saw her face he looked grieved, but he spoke very coldly: "I have been to your cottage to inquire for you"--he raised his hat, but he made no effort to take her hand--"and then I heard you were expected home from Aubette. I did not know how ill you had been till to-day, Marie: I had been told you were quite recovered." His cold, hard manner wounded her: "Oh, I am better, thank you;" but as she spoke her sight grew dizzy: she would have fallen if Leon had not caught her in his arms. She felt that he clasped her closely for an instant, and then he loosed his hold. "Thank you!" She freed herself. "I am better. I will go home now, Monsieur Roussel." He took off his hat mechanically, and Marie turned toward St. Gertrude. But she did not move: she had no power to go forward. An impulse stronger than her will was holding her. She looked round: Leon had not moved--he stood with his eyes fixed on the ground. "I must tell you something," she said. Leon started: he had never heard Marie speak in such a humble tone. "I was in the wagon just now, and I listened to your talk with Monsieur Michel." Her cheeks grew crimson. "But, Monsieur Roussel, you are in error about me. Nicolas Marais is my friend"--Leon's face grew so stern that her eyes drooped and her voice faltered--"but he will never be more to me. He has always been my friend." Leon came close to her and took her hand: "Marie"--his voice was so harsh and severe that she shrunk from him--"you must tell the truth, and you must not be angry if I doubt you. My child, did I not see Nicolas kiss the letter you sent him, and look at you as he kissed it?"