On the Sunday he engaged Marie to start with him after dinner to the
place on the hillside where they were cutting wood. It was a
beautiful autumn afternoon, in that pleasantest of all months in the
year, when the sun is not too hot, and the air is fresh and balmy,
and one is still able to linger abroad, loitering either in or out
of the shade, when the midges cease to bite, and the sun no longer
scorches and glares; but the sweet vestiges of summer remain, and
everything without doors is pleasant and friendly, and there is the
gentle unrecognised regret for the departing year, the unconscious
feeling that its glory is going from us, to add the inner charm of a
soft melancholy to the outer luxury of the atmosphere. I doubt
whether Michel Voss had ever realised the fact that September is the
kindliest of all the months, but he felt it, and enjoyed the leisure
of his Sunday afternoon when he could get his niece to take a
stretch with him on the mountain-side. On these occasions Madame
Voss was left at home with M. le Cure, who liked to linger over his
little cup of coffee. Madame Voss, indeed, seldom cared to walk
very far from the door of her own house; and on Sundays to go to the
church and back again was certainly sufficient exercise.

Michel Voss said no word about Adrian Urmand as they were ascending
the hill. He was too wise for that. He could not have given effect
to his experience with sufficient eloquence had he attempted the
task while the burden of the rising ground was upon his lungs and
chest. They turned into a saw-mill as they went up, and counted the
scantlings of timber that had been cut; and Michel looked at the
cradle to see that it worked well, and to the wheels to see that
they were in good order, and observed that the channel for the water
required repairs, and said a word as to the injury that had come to
him because George had left him. 'Perhaps he may come back soon,'