His sadness grew deeper and heavier, and presented at this moment a curious contrast with the eager countenances of those about him. The noise and the excitement soon became intolerable to him, and he rose and went out without exciting notice. He crossed the courtyard and passing behind the mill-wheel entered the miller's garden, followed the water-course, and finally sat down on the rail of a little bridge some two or three hundred yards from the house.
He had been sitting there about an hour, indulging in all the dismal ideas which the consciousness of his unfortunate position suggested to him, when he noticed a man who was coming toward him along the path he himself had just taken.
"Is that you, Monsieur Michel?" asked the man.
"Jean Oullier!" cried Michel. "Jean Oullier! Heaven has sent you. When did you get back?"
"Half an hour ago."
"Have you seen Mary?"
"Yes, I have seen Mademoiselle Mary."
And the old keeper raised his eyes to heaven and sighed. The tone in which he said the words, the gesture, and the sigh which accompanied them, showed that his deep solicitude was not blind to the cause of the young girl's fading appearance, and also that he fully appreciated the gravity of the situation.
Michel understood him; he covered his face with his hands and merely murmured:--
"Poor Mary!"