ction. His hand, that held
a piece of torn yellow paper, trembled as though with the ague.

"Ah, Monsieur Bliss--ah, _pardon_, mademoiselle!" he stammered, and
attempted a bow. "I--I have run very fast--and--I--I--"

"Is anything the matter?" inquired Myrna coolly, joining the two at the
door.

Father Anton looked at her piteously.

"She is gone!" he said, his lips quivering.

"Gone!" repeated Henry Bliss bewilderedly. "Who is gone?"

"Our charming little Marie-Louise of Bernay-sur-Mer, of course! Who
else?"--Myrna laughed sharply. "Well, _mon cher_ Monsieur le Cure,
will you tell us how it happened? I had an idea you were very shortly
to return with her to Bernay-sur-Mer. It seems I was mistaken!"

"But I do not know how it happened!"--Father Anton shook his head
distractedly. "I was away last night and to-day. This evening when I
returned to my rooms I found this letter from her"--he stared at the
torn yellow paper in his hand, and the tears began to well into his
eyes. "She said that she was going away--that she could not go back to
Bernay-sur-Mer--that I was not to look for her--that she did not know
where she was going herself. I waited for nothing. I ran at once to
Madame Garneau's. Madame Garneau had seen nothing of Marie-Louise
since this morning. We looked in Marie-Louise's room. Her clothes
were gone. And then--and then I ran here to get help to find her."

"And so," said Myrna icily, "are we never to hear the last of her? The
trouble in the first place is of your own making, Father Anton--it is
unfortunate that others have to suffer for it! Well, what does it
mean? She did not want to go back to Bernay-sur-Mer--she has run away
from you--from everybody that could keep track of her. Why? That she
can go to Jean again without being found out?" She shrugged her
shoulders. "However, under the circumstances, if that is so, it will
do her little good, since Jean himself is going away to--"

"No, no!" Father Anton cried out brokenly. "You do not know
Marie-Louise! You do not know Marie-Louise to say that! She, more
than any one else, would not let Jean know. It is because her heart is
broken that she has gone. And it is true, I am to blame." The tears
were running down his cheeks; he held out his hands to them
imploringly. "She is not well--she is only just recovered from her
illness, my little Marie-Louise, and--and--" the words died away in a
sort of frightened sob, at a qui