r-work affair, covered with delicate china of palest
pink, blue and green tints. The cups and saucers were clustered
invitingly round a huge old-fashioned silver teapot, and, on the nob of
the little fire-place a kettle was singing away merrily. A great rug of
white bear-skin was stretched on the floor, and curled up comfortably
in its warmest corner lay a large Persian cat, which, at the entrance of
the visitor, merely turned languidly to see whether he had a dog, and
then sank into sleep again.

A very homelike scene it was that Eugene Lacroix was ushered upon that
summer afternoon, and the greeting of his hostess set him at once at his
ease.

"How do you feel, Mr. Lacroix, to-day, after all your triumphs yesterday?
You received quite an ovation at the reception."

"Oh, I feel very well, indeed, thank you; this fresh country air puts new
life into one. You were wise, mademoiselle, to choose your home in such a
spot."

"Yes, I think I did well, though the place has its drawbacks. It is a
long way from London and the opera. Still, I could not bear to live quite
in town; the air there stifles me. After the clear bracing air of Canada,
I find London very oppressive. But, M. Lacroix, you must be tired after
your long walk up the hill. Do take that comfortable arm-chair and let me
give you a cup of tea."

"Yes, gladly; tea is one of my weaknesses. Oh! how I missed it in Paris.
It is almost impossible to get a good cup of tea there."

"I always make mine myself, and have it regularly at five o'clock, and,
even now, I still keep the fire lighted here, for the evenings are apt to
be chilly, and I have to take care of my throat. That is _my_ fortune,
you know."

"Yes, it is indeed, mademoiselle. How strange that all three of the
cure's pupils should have succeeded so well in life, and all so far from
their own land."

"It is indeed strange. That thought has often occurred to me, too," said
Marie, musingly.

"But," went on Lacroix, "though, of course, I like London and Paris and
all this excitement for a time, I often pine for our fresh Canadian
breezes, for the dash of the Gulf against the rocks at Father Point! City
life is so trammelled, and I long for the unconventional home life from
which I have been removed so long."

"Ah! I see you have _mal de pays_; you see I know the symptoms," said
Marie, smiling.

"Yes, I suppose it must be that."

"But how delighted you must be at the success of your picture. I saw