There was great rejoicing in the cottage the day that Anna’s white blouse and large green umbrella came in sight, and the three sat in the kitchen together: Anna eating smilingly the cakes and biscuits that grateful Jeanne-Marie made specially for her, and Henri crawling happily on the floor. “He said ‘Maman’ to Suzanne yesterday,” Anna would announce, as Jeanne-Marie hurried to meet her at the gate; or, “Firman says he heard him say ‘Menou,’ when the white cat ran across the yard this morning.” And many were the attempts to induce Henri to make these utterances again. “Je t’aime, je t’aime,” Jeanne-Marie would murmur to him, as she kissed him again and again, and the little boy would look up at her with his dark eyes, and smile encouragingly. All too quickly the time would go, and all too soon would come Anna’s glance at the clock, and the dreaded words: “Suzanne will make herself angry; we must go.” And as Jeanne-Marie watched them disappear along the white road, the clouds of her loneliness would gather round her again. The Sunday afternoons at the farm were looked forward to through all the week. There was little Catherine to admire, and in the summer days there was the orchard, where Henri loved to play, and where he and his aunt would sit together all the afternoon. If Suzanne were in a good temper, she would bring Catherine out in her arms, and the children would tumble about together in the long grass. And so the time wore on, and as Henri grew in mind and body, and was able to prattle and run about the fields, Jeanne-Marie hungered for him with a love more absorbing than ever. Two years had passed since Catherine’s birth, and for the last year Anna would often bring her, when she came down to Jeanne-Marie’s cottage. The one day a week had dropped gradually to every ten days; it was sometimes only every fortnight that one or both children would appear, and the days that little Henri came were marked white days on the simple calendar of Jeanne-Marie’s heart. V Now, as Jeanne-Marie stood in her garden this hot May afternoon, and shaded her eyes, as she gazed at the broad white road, her face was troubled, and there was a drawn line of apprehension round the corners of her mouth. For lately Suzanne’s jealous temper had flamed up again, and this alert jealousy boded evil days for Jeanne-Marie.