for me! I can't!" she said;
and Father Antoine saw tears in her eyes.

"But you must speak to them, my daughter," he replied, "else they will
be grieved. They cannot understand that you are pleased if you say no
word. I will speak first till you are more calm."

When Father Antoine had finished his speech, Hetty stepped forward, and
looking round on all their faces, said:

"I do not know how to thank you, friends. I never saw any thing like
this before, and it makes me dumb. All I can say is that you have filled
my heart with joy, and I feel no more a stranger: your village is my
home."

"Thanks to thee, then, for that! Thanks to thee! And the good saints
bless the day thou wert born," shouted the people, and the little
children catching the enthusiasm, and wanting to shout something,
shouted: "Bo Tantibba! Bo Tantibba!" till the place rang. Then they
placed the pet lamb in a little enclosed paddock which had been built
for him during the day, and the children fed him with red clover
blossoms through the paling; and presently, Father Antoine considerately
led his flock away, saying,--"The good Aunt is weary. See you not that
her eyes droop, and she has no words? It is now kind that we go away,
and leave her to rest."

As the gay procession moved away crying, "Good-night, good-night!" Hetty
stood on the porch and watched them. She was on the point of calling
them back. A strange dread of being left alone seized upon her. Never
since she had forsaken her home had she felt such a sense of loneliness,
except when she was crouched under the hemlock-trees by the lake. She
watched till she could no longer see even a fluttering motion in the
distance. Then she went into the house. The silence smote her. She
turned and went out again, and went to the paddock, where the little
lamb was bleating.

"Poor little creature!" she said, "wert thou torn from thy mother? Dost
thou pine for one thou see'st not?" She untied it, led it into the
house, and spread down hay and blankets for it, in one corner of her
kitchen. The little creature seemed cheered by the light and warmth;
cuddled down and went to sleep.

Hetty's heart was full of thoughts. "Oh! what would Eben have said if he
could have seen me to-night?" "How Raby would have delighted in it all!"
"How long am I to live this strange life?" "Can this be really I?" "What
has become of my old life, of my old self?" Like restless waves driven
by a wind too powerful to be resiste