testations prevented
her hearing the sound of a falling window which came from the
direction of Marie's bedroom.

"Yes, yes," Delmia rambled on, "my hearing is very bad now." Presently
she stopped, leaned her head toward the door and listened again.
"Marie sleeps soundly," she said with a tired, contented sigh. Poor
Delmia!

The strangely-clad figure, which had sprung through the window,
crouched close to the side of the house, and with rapidly-beating
heart listened to hear if Delmia had heard the noise the treacherous
sash had made as it fell behind her. She knew there was no danger of
the Little Mother being aroused, for she was listening at the bedroom
door and had heard her go out; she had only the aged Delmia to fear.

There was no need for alarm; Delmia had not heard.

The rays from the gas-lamp cast yellow flickering shadows on the lane
and the side of the old brick house, and at intervals upon the
crouching figure. Suddenly Marie sprang to her feet and started to
run; but before she had gone many steps, something white and
cloud-like, which was fastened about her head, and which unperceived
by her, had become fastened in the window, caused her to halt
abruptly. She caught the tremulous thing in her hands and gave it a
quick pull; there was a sound of tearing and then she was free. As she
ran across the sidewalk under the lamp, her strange attire was
distinctly revealed; it was that of a bride! Strikingly grotesque in
the storm appeared her long white dress, flowing veil, and white kid
shoes.

On reaching the opposite side of the road, where the shadows were
deep, Marie paused and looked back at the little house which she had
so suspiciously left. Finding that she was not being pursued, she
turned, regardless of the storm, and began to walk toward the east,
where lay, some six miles distant, the great penitentiary of St.
Vincent de Paul. As she sped along in the shadow of the houses, she
began to talk to herself like a pleased child. "This is our
wedding-day, and he will be so glad to see me," she chattered.

Suddenly the smile died out of her face, and she said anxiously: "But
how shall I know him, now that they have changed his name?" She wrung
her hands distressfully. Soon the smile returned to her round, sweet
face, and she went on: "But he cannot have forgotten that this is our
wedding-day, and when he sees me, he is sure to know me."

* * * * *

If tender-hearted l