ueteuse, who, being, like me, a dowerless
postulante, begged from house to house throughout the city for the means
to open to her the door of the monastery.

"Heloise," replied Mere Esther, "this is idle fear. We have waited for
you, knowing that one day you would come, and you will be most welcome,
dowered or not!"

"You are ever kind, Mere Esther, but how could you know I should come to
you?" asked Heloise with a look of inquiry.

"Alas, Heloise, we know more of the world and its doings than is well
for us. Our monastery is like the ear of Dionysius: not a whisper in the
city escapes it. Oh, darling, we knew you had failed in your one great
desire upon earth, and that you would seek consolation where it is only
to be found, in the arms of your Lord."

"It is true, mother; I had but one desire upon earth, and it is crushed;
one little bird that nestled a while in my bosom, and it has flown
away. The event of to-day has stricken me and Amelie alike, and we come
together to wear out the stones of your pavement praying for the hapless
brother of Amelie."

"And the object of Heloise's faithful love!" replied the nun with tender
sympathy. "Oh! how could Le Gardeur de Repentigny refuse a heart like
yours, Heloise, for the sake of that wild daughter of levity, Angelique
des Meloises?

"But come, I will conduct you to the venerable Lady Superior, who is in
the garden conversing with Grand'mere St. Pierre, and your old friend
and mistress, Mere Ste. Helene."

The news of the tragedy in the market-place had been early carried to
the Convent by the ubiquitous Bonhomme Michael, who was out that day on
one of his multifarious errands in the service of the community.

The news had passed quickly through the Convent, agitating the usually
quiet nuns, and causing the wildest commotion among the classes
of girls, who were assembled at their morning lessons in the great
schoolroom. The windows were clustered with young, comely heads, looking
out in every direction, while nuns in alarm streamed from the long
passages to the lawn, where sat the venerable Superior, Mere Migeon
de la Nativite, under a broad ash-tree, sacred to the Convent by the
memories that clustered around it. The Ste. Therese of Canada, Mere
Marie de l'Incarnation, for lack of a better roof, in the first days of
her mission, used to gather around her under that tree the wild Hurons
as well as the young children of the colonists, to give them their first
lesson