pentier, on her husband's arm, came up on deck.

Dear little Alix! I see you yet as I saw you then. And here, twenty-seven
years after our parting, I have before me the medallion you gave me, and
look tenderly on your dear features, my friend!

She had not changed her dress; only she had replaced her camail with a
scarf of blue silk about her neck and shoulders and had removed her gloves
and _capuche_. Her rich chestnut hair, unpowdered, was combed back _a la
Chinoise_, and the long locks that descended upon her shoulders were tied
by a broad blue ribbon forming a rosette on the forepart of her head. She
wore no jewelry except a pearl at each ear and her wedding ring. Suzanne,
who always saw everything, remarked afterward that Madame Carpentier wore
two.

"As for her earrings," she added, "they are nothing great. Marianne has
some as fine, that cost, I think, ten dollars."

Poor Suzanne, a judge of jewelry! Madame Carpentier's earrings were two
great pearls, worth at least two hundred dollars. Never have I met another
so charming, so lovely, as Alix Carpentier. Her every movement was grace.
She moved, spoke, smiled, and in all things acted differently from all the
women I had ever met until then. She made one think she had lived in a
world all unlike ours; and withal she was simple, sweet, good, and to love
her seemed the most natural thing on earth. There was nothing
extraordinary in her beauty; the charm was in her intelligence and her
goodness.

Maggie, the Irishwoman, was very taciturn. She never mingled with us, nor
spoke to any one except Suzanne, and to her in monosyllables only when
addressed. You would see her sometimes sitting alone at the bow of the
boat, sewing, knitting, or saying her beads. During this last occupation
her eyes never quitted Alix. One would say it was to her she addressed her
prayers; and one day, when she saw my regard fixed upon Alix, she said to
me:

"It does me good to look at her; she must look like the Virgin Mary."

Her little form, so graceful and delicate, had, however, one slight
defect; but this was hidden under the folds of her robe or of the scarf
that she knew how to arrange with such grace. One shoulder was a trifle
higher than the other.

After having greeted my father, whom she already knew, she turned to us,
hesitated a moment, and then, her two little hands extended, and with a
most charming smile, she advanced, first to me and then to Suzanne, and
embraced us bo