hough
perhaps he is too good to suspect evil."

Mere Giraud put her hand to her heart.

"You are not afraid?" she said, quite proudly, beginning at last to
comprehend. "You are not afraid of evil to Laure?"

"No, no, no," he answered; "surely not."

He said no more then, but he always asked to see the letters, and read
them with great care, sometimes over and over again. They came very
regularly for six or seven months, and then there was a gap of a few
weeks, and then came a strange, almost incomprehensible, letter from
Valentin, containing news which almost caused Mere Giraud's heart to
burst with joy and gratitude. Laure was married, and had made such a
marriage as could scarcely have been dreamed of. A rich aristocrat, who
had visited her employers, had fallen in love with her, and married her.
He had no family to restrain him, and her beauty had won him completely
from the first hour. He had carried her away with him to make a
prolonged tour. The family with whom she had lived had been lavish
in their gifts and kindness, but they had left Paris also and were
voyaging. The name of Laure's bridegroom was Legrand, and there came
messages from Laure, and inclosed was a handsome present of money.

Mere Giraud was overwhelmed with joy. Before three hours had passed, all
St Croix knew the marvelous news. She went from house to house showing
the letter and the money, and it was not until night that she cooled
down sufficiently to labor through a long epistle to Valentin.

It was a year before Laure returned to Paris, and during that time
she wrote but seldom; but Valentin wrote often, and answered all his
mother's questions, though not as fluently, nor with so many words as
she often wished. Laure was rich, and beautiful as ever; her husband
adored her, and showered gifts and luxuries upon her; she had equipages
and jewels; she wore velvet and satin and lace every day; she was a
great lady, and had a house like a palace. Laure herself did not say so
much. In her secret heart, Mere Giraud often longed for more, but she
was a discreet and farseeing woman.

"What would you?" she said. "She must drive out in her equipage, and she
must dress and receive great people, and I am not so blind a mother as
not to see that she will have many things to learn. She has not time to
write long letters,--and see how she cares for me,--money, see you, by
every letter, and a silk dress and lace cap she herself has chosen in
the Boulev