.

"Sister, are you too busy to attend the wants of a sick man?"

"Who is the sick man, my son?"

"Monsieur le Marquis de Perigny."

"He is very ill?" laying down her hooks.

"He can not leave his bed. He wishes some one to read to him. I would
gladly do it, only I should not have the quieting effect."

The blue eyes of the nun had a range that was far away. Brother
Jacques eyed her curiously.

"I will go," she said presently. "Is not the Chevalier du Cevennes the
marquis's son?"

"He is."

"And is Monsieur le Marquis of a patient mind?"

"I confess that he is not. That is why it is difficult for me to wait
upon his wants. He is a disappointed man; and being without faith, he
is without patience. However, if you are too busy . . ."

"Lead me to him, my son," quietly.

Thus it was that the marquis, waking from the light sleep into which he
had fallen after Brother Jacques's departure, espied a nun sitting in a
chair by the window facing south, the shutters of which had been thrown
wide open again. The room was warm with sunshine. The nun was not
aware that Jehan sat in a darkened corner, watching her slightest move,
nor that the marquis had awakened. She was dreaming with unclosed
eyes, the expression on her face one of repose. The face which the
marquis saw had at one time been very beautiful. Presently the
marquis's scrutiny became a stare. . . . That scar; what did it recall
to his wandering mind? A fit of trembling seized him and took the
strength from his propping arm. The creaking of the bed aroused her.

[Illustration: "She was dreaming with unclosed eyes."]

This strange land was full of phantoms. Only the other night he had
seen a face resembling Marie de Montbazon's. Bah!

"You are Sister Benie?" he said at once, narrowing his eyes. "Faith,"
he thought, "if all nuns were like this woman, Christianity were easy
to embrace."

"Yes, Monsieur," replied the nun. "Brother Jacques has sent me to you.
What may I do for you?"

"You were young once?"

This unusual question apparently had no effect upon her serenity. "I
am still young. Those who give their hearts unreservedly to God never
grow old."

The marquis's hand moved, restlessly. "How long have you been in
Quebec?"

"Fifteen years, Monsieur. Shall I read to you?"

"No. You came from France?" with a sick man's persistence.

"Yes, Monsieur. Is there something besides reading I can do?"

"Do I look ill?" querulo