ept grass in the garden looked
pleasantly fresh behind the brown railings.

"Come with me; it will do you good," said the older woman suddenly, "and
it will amuse you to see France in this old dark London of ours."

She carried a large basket, and looked, in her trim dark dress and
bonnet, so exactly what she was that it occurred to Brigit, by force of
contrast, how remarkably few people nowadays _do_ look what they are.

"I will come with pleasure," she said gently, as they turned to the
left. "Where do you go first?"

"To Notre Dame de France in Leicester Street. There's a Low Mass at
seven. Then I must go to the butcher in Pulteney Street, and to the Ile
de Java for coffee. Toinon," she continued, reflecting, pausing to give
a penny to a beggar, "is a very good girl, but she cannot _buy_. She
simply takes what they offer her, and no housekeeper can stand that, of
course."

Leicester Street is but a ten minutes' walk from Golden Square, and
Brigit felt as she walked that the world was meant for better things
than tragedy, after all.

Her torture of Joyselle the evening before had been infinitely cruel,
and yet her love for him had grown as she tortured him. She was as yet
quite unused to the dominion of her own emotions, and they, being so
much stronger than her self-control, had carried her away with them. It
had been a kind of mental fakirism, and as fakirs smile as they burn and
cut themselves, so she had been able to smile as she burnt and cut at
her own heart in Joyselle. Yet she was not an altogether cruel woman.

And this quiet walk with the homely, good, little Felicite tranquillised
and steadied her maddened nerves and brought reason to her mind.

Felicite left her basket in the vestibule of the church, and going in
dipped her fingers into the holy water fountain and held her hand out to
Brigit.

Unconsciously the girl touched it, and then, as the other woman turned
and knelt at one of the worn praying-desks, Brigit hastily touched her
own forehead and breast.

The drop of water stayed for some seconds on her forehead, and in its
coolness seemed to burn her.

After a short pause she walked down the aisle and sat down in the
second row of seats.

The priest came out as she took her place, and the Mass began.

Its very silence was restful to the girl, and as she watched, the sleep
that had refused to come to her all through the night touched her
eyelids and they closed wearily.

When she opene