d, though the eyes still
flashed, the lips quivered. Hers was not the face of cupidity. It was
sensitive, yet firm, as with some purpose deep as her nature was by
creation and experience, and always deepening that nature. I suddenly
got the conviction that this girl had a sorrow of some kind in her life,
and that this unreal affection for money was connected with it. Perhaps
she saw my look of interest, for she hurriedly continued: "But, pardon
me, I am foolish. I shall be better when the pain is gone. Madame is
kind; she will let me sleep this afternoon, perhaps."

I handed her the medicine, and then asked: "How long have you known Mrs.
Falchion, Miss Caron?"

"Only one year."

"Where did you join her?"

"In Australia."

"In Australia? You lived there?"

"No, monsieur, I did not live there."

A thought came to my mind--the nearness of New Caledonia to Australia,
and New Caledonia was a French colony--a French penal colony! I smiled
as I said the word penal to myself. Of course the word could have no
connection with a girl like her, but still she might have lived in the
colony. So I added quietly: "You perhaps had come from New Caledonia?"

Her look was candid, if sorrowful. "Yes, from New Caledonia."

Was she, thought I, the good wife of some convict--some political
prisoner?--the relative of some refugee of misfortune? Whatever she was,
I was sure that she was free from any fault. She evidently thought that
I might suspect something uncomplimentary of her, for she said: "My
brother was an officer at Noumea. He is dead. I am going to France, when
I can."

I tried to speak gently to her. I saw that her present position must
be a trial. I advised her to take more rest, or she would break down
altogether, for she was weak and nervous; I hinted that she might have
to give up entirely, if she continued to tax herself heedlessly; and,
finally, that I would speak to Mrs. Falchion about her. I was scarcely
prepared for her action then. Tears came to her eyes, and she said to
me, her hand involuntarily clasping my arm: "Oh no, no! I ask you not to
speak to madame. I will sleep--I will rest. Indeed, I will. This service
is so much to me. She is most generous. It is because I am so altogether
hers, night and day, that she pays me well. And the money is so much. It
is my honour--my dead brother's honour. You are kind at heart; you will
make me strong with medicine, and I will ask God to bless you. I could
not suffer s