ven suspecting what was wanted of him, Angelot, who knew
all, yet found it impossible to believe. Therefore he could not bring
himself to give the Cure any explanation, or even to mention Helene's
name. Her father, for whom he now felt a passionate, enthusiastic
reverence and love, had trusted him in the matter. He had said, resting
his hand on his shoulder: "Tell Monsieur le Cure what you please. Or
leave it to me to tell him all;" and Angelot had felt that the Cure must
be brought in ignorance. Afterwards he knew that there were other
reasons for this, besides the vagueness in his own mind. The Cure had a
great sense of the fitness of things. Also, next to God and his Bishop,
he felt bound to love and serve Urbain and Anne de la Mariniere.

When Angelot opened the little door, which he found ajar, there was a
flickering light on the damp narrow stairs that wound up in the
thickness of the wall. There stood Herve de Sainfoy, tall, pale, very
calm now, with a look of resolution quite new to his pleasant features.

"You are welcome, Monsieur le Cure," he said. "Follow me."

The old man obeyed silently, and the two passed on before Angelot. When
they reached the topmost winding of the staircase, Herve led the Cure
round into the corridor, still carrying his light, and saying, "A word
alone with you." At the same time he motioned to Angelot to go forward
into the chapel.

The altar was partly arranged for service, the candles were lighted, and
one white figure, its face hidden, was kneeling there. Angelot stood and
looked for a moment, with dazzled eyes. The wind moaned, the distant
valse flowed on. Here in the old neglected chapel, under the kind eyes
of the Virgin's statue, he had left Helene that night, weeks ago. He had
never seen her since, except in the ball-room this very evening, lovely
as a dream; but she was lovelier than any dream now.

He went up softly beside her, stooped on one knee and kissed the fingers
that rested on the old worm-eaten bench. She looked up suddenly,
blushing scarlet, and they both rose to their feet and stood quite
still, looking into each other's eyes. They did not speak; there was
nothing to say, except "I love you," and words were not necessary for
that. At first there was terror and bewilderment, rather than
happiness, in Helene's face, and her hands trembled as Angelot held
them; but soon under his gaze and his touch a smile was born. All those
weeks of desolate loneliness were ov