from Miss Clairville in a
burst of self-pity. Her eager accents lent pathos to the triumphant
declaration and she fancied the priest laughing in his corner! the
doctor gave a snort of ridicule and even the lips of the impassive
nurse seemed to contract with a contemptuous smile.

"He tells you so, he tells you so. Well, may it be so then, and Heaven
bless you, Pauline. If I--if I----" his lean hand moved jerkily; it
wandered in search of her head, but instead of those dark locks of hair
it fell on the back of a cat. Pauline was swayed by extraordinary and
clashing emotions. He--her hated and despised brother--was trying to
bless her, to lay unsanctified and sinful yet yearning hands upon her,
and it was a blow to her pride to learn forbearance in such a school
and from such a teacher. But he had spoken almost his last words. He
collapsed, groaning, and the doctor and Mme. Poussette each passed an
arm under him. Father Rielle appeared at the bedside with the
sacrament.

"Not for a minute or two," said Dr. Renaud. "He is still worried in
his mind. It is you, mademoiselle, always you. He is uneasy about the
child. I know what he wishes; that you will be friendly with her,
treat her as your own blood, stay here with her, it may be, for a
season. Promise, mademoiselle, and quickly."

"I cannot! I cannot!"

"Nonsense! Promise--and at once."

Father Rielle whispered in her ear: "Promise, my daughter."

"It will be useless. I should not keep such a promise."

"What does that matter? Promise--to soothe his dying moments, even if
you break it afterwards. The Church thus orders, and the Church will
make good, will console."

Thus hemmed in, Pauline bent and gave her promise; much shaken and
still violently sobbing, she then left the room and Renaud accompanied
her. The act was significant, the leech of the body withdrawing to
make room for the leech of the soul. The door was softly drawn to by
Mme. Poussette; the low sound of Father Rielle's voice was heard at
intervals, then there was a silence. Ten minutes later the priest and
nurse came out, throwing wide the door on the remains of Henry
Clairville, just passed from this world to the next. At the same
instant, a strange incongruous sound came from the room, and Pauline,
wide-eyed and panting, stopped sobbing, and stood up with her hands
pressed over her heart. It was the penetrating chant of three lusty
kittens, new-born, blind and helpless, yet