After a tedious search throughout all the environs of Aix, Graham himself came, by the merest accident, upon the vestiges of Louise's friend. He had been wandering alone in the country round Aix, when a violent thunderstorm drove him to ask shelter in the house of a small farmer, situated in a field, a little off the byway which he had taken. While waiting for the cessation of the storm, and drying his clothes by the fire in a room that adjoined the kitchen, he entered into conversation with the farmer's wife, a pleasant, well-mannered person, and made some complimentary observation on a small sketch of the house in water-colours that hung upon the wall. "Ah," said the farmer's wife, "that was done by a French lady who lodged here many years ago. She drew very prettily, poor thing." "A lady who lodged here many years ago,--how many?" "Well, I guess somewhere about twenty." "Ah, indeed! Was it a Madame Marigny?" "Bon Dieu! That was indeed her name. Did you know her? I should be so glad to hear she is well and--I hope--happy." "I do not know where she is now, and am making inquiries to ascertain. Pray help me. How long did Madame Marigny lodge with you?" "I think pretty well two months; yes, two months. She left a month after her confinement." "She was confined here?" "Yes. When she first came, I had no idea that she was _enceinte_. She had a pretty figure, and no one would have guessed it, in the way she wore her shawl. Indeed I only began to suspect it a few days before it happened; and that was so suddenly, that all was happily over before we could send for the _accoucheur_." "And the child lived?--a girl or a boy?" "A girl,--the prettiest baby." "Did she take the child with her when she went?" "No; it was put out to nurse with a niece of my husband who was confined about the same time. Madame paid liberally in advance, and continued to send money half-yearly, till she came herself and took away the little girl." "When was that,--a little less than five years after she had left it?" "Why, you know all about it, Monsieur; yes, not quite five years after. She did not come to see me, which I thought unkind, but she sent me, through my niece-in-law, a real gold watch and a shawl. Poor dear lady-- for lady she was all over,--with proud ways, and would not bear to be questioned. But I am sure she was none of your French light ones, but an honest wife like myself, though she never said so." "And have you no idea where she was all the five years she was away, or where she went after reclaiming her child?" "No, indeed, Monsieur." "But her remittances for the infant must have been made by letters, and the letters would have had post-marks?" "Well, I dare say; I am no scholar myself. But suppose you see Marie Hubert, that is my niece-in-law, perhaps she has kept the envelopes." "''Where does Madame Hubert live?"