er in which
he treated----"
Here Lacroix hesitated, grew very red and lost his place.
Marie, observing his distress, remarked placidly: "Please go on, I do not
mind; that is all a closed page in my history."
"The manner in which he treated," continued Lacroix, "that poor girl
was unpardonable. At an age, too, when she should have
been most carefully guarded, when her feelings were most sensitive,
he, for all he knew to the contrary, broke her heart. And, under the
cowardly pretence that it was she who bade him go, he left her to
live, for aught he cared, a dreary, colorless existence at Father
Point.
"Fortunately Marie was a girl of no ordinary stamp. She could rise
above disappointments--remember, I do not say forget them; and she
threw her whole energies into her art. I am a priest, and know human
nature, its weakness and its strength--and human nature is the same
all the world over--and I can honestly say that the daughter of the
fisherman at Father Point is the noblest woman I have ever met.
"I can feel no interest in what you tell me of Noel McAllister. As I
said before, I do not wish you to mention him. Madame McAllister died
last week, very calmly and peacefully. We laid her in the churchyard
beside her husband and his ancestors. She had been very frail of late
years, but of course she was a great age, ninety-six.
"You will scarcely know Father Point when you return. An enterprising
merchant from Montreal has built a large summer hotel on the Point,
and hopes to attract crowds of visitors during the warm weather.
"Of course you have heard of the honor conferred on our Archbishop.
I went up to Quebec to attend the ceremony when they gave him his
Cardinal's hat, and he is soon to visit my humble parish, and I trust
will approve of our progress, both in things spiritual and temporal.
"Hoping to see you soon, and with every good wish for your safe voyage,
"Believe me, as ever,
"Your very sincere friend,
"Rene Bois-le-Duc,
"Cure of Father Point, Province of Quebec, Canada."
* * * * *
"Dear M. Bois-le-Duc," repeated Marie, "I am glad he thinks so well of
me. The approval of one true friend like that is worth more than all the
applause I get night after night at the opera. He knows me for myself;
they only recognize my art and the pleasure it affords them."
"Yes; you were alw
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