nsignor," replied the Beaubien, scanning him
narrowly as she accompanied him to the door. "By the way, you forgot
our little compact, did you not?" she added coldly.

"Madam, I came out of a sense of duty."

"Of that I have no doubt, Monsignor. _Adieu_."

She returned again to the music room, where Carmen made her acquainted
with Father Waite, and related the conversation with Lafelle. While
the girl talked the Beaubien's expression grew serious. Then Carmen
launched into her association with the ex-priest, concluding with:
"And he must have something to do, right away, to earn his living!"

The Beaubien laughed. She always did when Carmen, no matter how
serious the conversation, infused her sparkling animation into it.
"That isn't nearly as important as to know what he thinks about
Monsignor's errand here this afternoon, dearie," she said.

Father Waite bowed. "Madam," he said with great seriousness, "I would
be very wide awake."

The Beaubien studied him for a moment. "Why?" she asked.

"I think--I think--" He hesitated, and looked at Carmen.

"Well?" impatiently.

"I think he--has been greatly angered by--this girl--and by my
presence here."

"Ah!" Her face set hard. Then abruptly: "What are you going to do
now?"

"I have funds enough to keep me some weeks, Madam, while making plans
for the future."

"Then remain where I can keep in touch with you."

For the Beaubien had just returned from a two hours' ride with J.
Wilton Ames, and she felt that she needed a friend.

CHAPTER 20

The Beaubien sat in the rounded window of the breakfast room. Carmen
nestled at her feet. The maid had just removed the remains of the
light luncheon.

"Dearest, please, _please_ don't look so serious!"

The Beaubien twined her fingers through the girl's flowing locks. "I
will try, girlie," she said, though her voice broke.

Carmen looked up into her face with a wistful yearning. "Will you not
tell me?" she pleaded. "Ever since Monsignor Lafelle and Father Waite
were here you have been so quiet; and that was nearly a week ago. I
know I can help, if you will only let me."

"How would you help, dearie?" asked the woman absently.

"By knowing that God is everywhere, and that evil is unreal and
powerless," came the quick, invariable reply.

"My sweet child! Can nothing shake your faith?"

"No. Why, if I were chained to a stake, with fire all around me, I'd
know it wasn't true!"

"I think you are chained--and