sing for himself again.

Contrary to what Mere Langlois had thought, he had not been perturbed by
the parish noise about the savage incident at "The Red Eagle," and the
desperate affair which would cause the arrest of his father-in-law. He
was at last well inclined to be rid of Sebastian Dolores, who had ceased
to be a comfort to him, and who brought him hateful and not kindly
memories of his lost women, and the happy hours of the past they
represented.

M. Fille had come to the Manor in much alarm, lest the news of the
miserable episode at "The Red Eagle" should bring Jean Jacques down again
to the depths. He was infinitely relieved, however, to find that the
lord of the Manor Cartier seemed only to be grateful that Sebastian
Dolores did not return, and nodded emphatically when M. Fille remarked
that perhaps it would be just as well if he never did return.

As M. Fille sat with his host at the table in the sunset light, Jean
Jacques seemed quieter and steadier of body and mind than he had been for
a long, long time. He even drank three glasses of the cordial which Mere
Langlois had left for him, with the idea that it might comfort him when
he got the bad news about Sebastian Dolores; and parting with M. Fille at
the door, he waved a hand and said: "Well, good-night, master of the
laws. Safe journey! I'm off to bed, and I'll sleep without rocking,
that's very sure and sweet."

He stood and waved his hand several times to M. Fille--till he was
out of sight indeed; and the Clerk of the Court smiled to himself long
afterwards, recalling Jean Jacques' cheerful face as he had seen it at
their parting in the gathering dusk. As for Jean Jacques, when he locked