streaming in the window made a sort of pathway of light between
them, while they were in the shade.

"He seems no worse, and to-day he is wheeling himself about."

"He is stronger, then--that's good. Is there any fear that he must go to
the hospital again?"

She inclined her head. "The doctor says he may have to go any moment. It
may be his one chance. The Cure is very kind, and says that, with your
permission, his sister will keep the office here, if--if needed."

The Seigneur nodded briskly. "Of course, of course. But have you not
thought that we might secure another postmistress?"

Her face clouded a little; her heart beat hard. She knew what was
coming. She dreaded it, but it was better to have it over now.

"We could not live without it," she said helplessly.

"What we have saved is not enough. The little my mother had must pay for
the visits to the hospital. I have kept it for that. You see, I need the
place here."

"But you have thought, just the same. Do you not know the day?" he asked
meaningly.

She was silent.

"I have come to ask you to marry me--this is Michaelmas day, Rosalie."

She did not speak. He had hopes from her silence. "If anything happened
to your father, you could not live here alone--but a young girl! Your
father may be in the hospital for a long time. You cannot afford that.
If I were to offer you money, you would refuse. If you marry me, all
that I have is yours to dispose of at your will: to make others happy,
to take you now and then from this narrow place, to see what's going on
in the world."

"I am happy here," she said falteringly.

"Chaudiere is the finest place in the world," he replied proudly, and as
a matter of fact. "But, for the sake of knowledge, you should see what
the rest of the world is. It helps you to understand Chaudiere better. I
ask you to be my wife, Rosalie."

She shook her head sorrowfully.

"You said before, it was not because I am old, not because I am rich,
not because I am Seigneur, not because I am I, that you refused me."

She smiled at him now. "That is true," she said.

"Then what reason can you have? None, none. 'Pon honour, I believe you
are afraid of marriage because it's marriage. By my life, there's naught
to dread. A little giving here and taking there, and it's easy. And when
a woman is all that's good, to a man, it can be done without fear or
trembling. Even the Cure would tell you that."

"Ah, I know, I know," she said, in a voi