"Your foot is better then?" said the workman, eager to commence the conversation, for Mr. Rougeant was already moving in a contrary direction.
"Yes, it's quite better now," replied the farmer, arresting his steps.
"Where's Miss Rougeant?" questioned Jacques.
"Rummaging the house; do you want to speak to her?"
"My wife told me that there was a long time she had not seen her. She says she is lonely and would very much like to see Miss Rougeant. She says your daughter is so kind and so much like her mother, that she would be very thankful if Miss Rougeant would condescend to visit her once or twice while she is laid up."
At the mention of his wife, Mr. Rougeant felt sorrow in his heart. He had loved once, but now, his nature was changed; he used to be happy and full of contentment then, although a struggling young farmer, for he had a bright, lovable and loving wife to cheer him up.
Now he was worth ten thousand pounds, and he felt the most miserable of men.
He stood still, the very picture of abject misery, not uttering a single word.
"Perhaps you will not mind telling her," said Jacques, breaking the silence.