He prowled about and contrived to fall in with Jacintha; he told her his grief.

She assured him the simple fact was their mourning was worn out, and they were ashamed to go abroad in colors.

This revelation made his heart yearn still more.
"O Jacintha," said he, "if I could only make a beginning; but here we might live a century in the same parish, and not one chance for a poor wretch to make acquaintance." Jacintha admitted this, and said gentlefolks were to be pitied.

"Why, if it was the likes of me, you and I should have made friends long before now." Jacintha herself was puzzled what to do; she would have told Rose if she had felt sure it would be well received; but she could not find out that the young lady had even noticed the existence of Edouard.

But her brain worked, and lay in wait for an opportunity.
One came sooner than she expected.