Part 37 (1/2)
”And little Jean--a beautiful child about four years old?”
”That I don't know, sir I live at Wilood half mile from here”
Aristide made for the third house past the poplar First there was a plank bridge across a grass-grown ditch; then a tiny patch of garden; then a hue with a small leaded casementon each side of the front door Unlike Hope Cottage, it did not look at all the residence of Miss Janet and Miss Anne Its appearance, indeed, oe-begone Aristide, however, went up to the door; as there was neither knocker nor bell, he rapped with his knuckles The door opened, and there, poorly dressed in blouse and skirt, stood Miss Anne
She regarded hi hie with a sharp cry
”You? You--Mr Pujol?”
”_Oui, Mademoiselle, c'est moi_ It is I, Aristide Pujol”
She put her hands on her boso you--so unexpectedly Will you come in?”
She led the way into a tiny parlour, very clean, very simple with its furniture of old oak and brass, and bade him sit She looked a little older than when he had seen her at Aix-en-Provence A few lines had marred the corey in the reddish hair, and, though still buxorown thinner Care had set its stamp upon her
”Miss Honeywood,” said Aristide ”It is on account of little Jean that I have come----”
She turned on him swiftly ”Not to take him away!”
”Then he is here!” He ju both her hands and kissed thereat embarrassment ”Ah, mademoiselle, I knew it I felt it When such an inspiration comes to a man, it is the _bon Dieu_ who sends it He is here, actually here, in this house?”
”Yes,” said Miss Anne
Aristide threw out his arms ”Letafter him for three years It was ht and laid at your threshold”
”Hush!+” said Miss Anne, with an interrupting gesture ”You must not talk so loud He is asleep in the next rooerously ill?”
”I'ain in the oak settle To Aristide the e His attitude betokened deepest misery and dejection
”And I expected to see him full of joy and health!”
”It is not my fault, Mr Pujol,” said Miss Anne
He started ”But no How could it be? You loved him when you first set eyes on hian to cry ”God knows,” said she, ”what I should do without him The dear mite is all that is left to me”
”All? But there is your sister, the dear Miss Janet”
Miss Anne's eyes were hidden in her handkerchief ”My poor sister died last year, Mr Pujol”
”I aently
There was a short silence ”It was a great sorrow to you,” he said
”It was God's will,” said Anne Then, after another pause, during which she dried her eyes, she strove to smile ”Tell me about yourself How do you co way He was in the presence of grief and sickness and trouble; the Provencal braggadocio dropped from him and he became the simple and childish creature that he was He accounted very truthfully, very convincingly, for his queer life; for his abandonment of little Jean, for his silence, for his sudden and unexpected appearance During the ingenuous _apologia pro vita sua_ Miss Anne regarded him with her honest candour