ed with a solemn benediction in the most Catholic form.

"He is not bad of heart, that priest," said the Pasteur, as he led the
way to the gate of a little shrubbery, "but he do try to steal my
sheep, and I protect them from him, the blood-toothed wolf. Jean, Jean!"

A brawny Swiss appeared and seized the baggage. Then they advanced
across the belt of shrubbery to a lawn, through which ran a path. Lo!
in the centre of that lawn grew such a fruit-tree, covered with large
cherries or small plums, as Godfrey had described to Miss Ogilvy, and
beyond it stood the long white house, old, and big, and peaceful
looking. What he had not described, because of them his subliminal
sense had given him no inkling, were the two ladies, who sat expectant
on the verandah, that commanded a beautiful view of the lake and the
mountains beyond.

By a kind of instinct distilled from his experience of clergymen's
belongings, Godfrey had expected to see a dowdy female, with a red, fat
face, and watery eyes, perhaps wearing an apron and a black dress
hooked awry, accompanied by a snub-nosed little girl with straight
hair, and a cold in the head. In place of these he saw a
fashionably-dressed, Parisian-looking lady, who still seemed quite
young, very pleasant to behold, with her dark eyes and graceful
movements, and a girl, apparently about his own age, who was equally
attractive.

She was brown-eyed, with a quick, mobile face, and a lithe and shapely,
if as yet somewhat unformed figure. The long thick plait in which her
chestnut hair was arranged could not hide its plenitude and beauty,
while the smallness of her hands and feet showed breeding, as did her
manners and presence. The observant Godfrey, at his first sight of
Juliette, for such was her name, marvelled how it was possible that she
should be the daughter of that plain and ungainly old pasteur. On this
point it is enough to say that others had experienced the same wonder,
and remained with their curiosity unsatisfied. But then he might as
well have inquired how he, Godfrey, came to be his father's son, since
in the whole universe no two creatures could have been more diverse.

Monsieur Boiset waddled forward, with a gait like to that of a
superannuated duck, followed at some distance by Godfrey and the
stalwart Jean with the luggage.

"My dears," he called out in his high voice, "I have found our new
little friend; the train brought him safely. Here he is."

Madame and Juliette