as breaking.

"Oh, Marguerite, for shame! To think of your being at the ball and
never letting me know!" she cried, to my consternation; but added,
immediately: "I'm glad you went, though. Didn't we all look fine?"

"Very fine, and I admired you most of all the women, cherie."

"Flatterer! You made a fine stir yourself when you crossed the
floor. I wish I had seen you, and I would have captured you, then
and there! Did you not know you could have gone round by the
passage?"

"That is the way I came; but when I wished to go, the door was
locked," I answered, boldly, as I saw she suspected nothing.

"I guessed who it was the moment they spoke of your hair; but I
told no one, not even M. de Maxwell. Did you see him? He wore a
brown coat laced with silver, and we were at your end of the room,
I suppose, while you were there."

"Yes, cherie, I saw him when he first came to you."

"And am I not right? Has he not le bel air?"

"He certainly has."

"But who else in the world do you think was there? You will never
guess. Charles! He was on his way to Montreal, and came to the ball
only to see me in my finery, he said. Not every brother would do
that, let me tell you! and he is off the first thing this morning
without ever coming to the house. Now I must be off to bed; I
couldn't help waking you to tell you my news;" and she kissed me
and went to dream of her pleasures.

The following afternoon we went to the Jesuits for benediction--to
me the sweetest service of the day. It was already growing dark as
we entered. Within, the narrow windows broke the blackness of the
walls with their slits of dull gray, and the worshippers sate or
knelt in the twilight, a shadowy throng, over which the twinkling
flood of light from countless tapers on the altar broke in yellow
softness.

The peaceful, tender service was in perfect harmony with the quiet
of the evening, and I felt my heart filled with a great comfort;
when suddenly from the loft behind us, where the musicians stood,
floated out the familiar words,

Tantum ergo sacramentum
Veneremur cernui...

and I sank trembling to my knees, for the voice to me was as the
voice of an angel--it was Hugh's! I covered my face with my hands
and wept silent, blessed tears of joy, while the beautiful hymn
thrilled through my very soul.

[Illustration: "Tantum ergo sacramentum Veneremur cernui..."]

"It is M. de Maxwell," whispered Angelique; but I could make no
answer.

As