se of peace, after the flames have burnt themselves out--or it
comes through fusion of love at fever heat----"

"Yes?" Henry faltered, rather anxiously.

"When there are still some cinders alight--the peaceful happiness is not
quite certain of fulfilment; it becomes an experiment then with some
risks."

"What makes you say this to me?"

The old priest did not look at him, but continued to gaze ahead.

"I have the welfare of our Dame d'Heronac very strongly at heart,
Monsieur, as you can guess, and I am not altogether sure that the
cinders are not still red. It would be well for you to ascertain whether
this be so or not before you ask her to make fresh bonds."

"You think she still cares for her husband, then?" Henry was very pale.

"I do not know that she ever cared--but I do know that even his memory
has power to disturb her. He must have been just such another as your
friend, the Seigneur of Arranstoun. It is his presence which has
reminded her of something of the past, since it cannot be he himself."

"No, of course it cannot be Michael--" and Henry laughed shortly. "He is
an Englishman. She had never seen him before yesterday--You think she
seems disturbed?"

"Yes."

"What would you have me do, then, Father? I love this woman more than my
life and only desire her happiness."

The Cure of Heronac shrugged his high shoulders slightly.

"It is not for me to give advice to a man of the world--but had it been
in the days when I was Gaston d'Heronac, of the Imperial Guard, I should
have told you--Use your intelligence, search, investigate for yourself.
Make her love you--leave nothing vague or to chance. As a priest, I must
say that I find all divorces wrong--and that for me she should remain
the wife of the other man."

"Even when the man is a drunkard or a lunatic, and there have been no
children?" Henry demanded.

A strange look came in the old Cure's eye as he glanced at his companion
covertly, and for a second it seemed as though he meant to speak his
thought--but the only words which came were in Latin:

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," and then
he held out his thin, brown hand; they had reached his door.

"In all cases you have my good wishes, my son, for you seem worthy of
her--my good wishes and my prayers."

Lord Fordyce mounted the stairs to his lady's sitting-room with lagging
steps. The Pere Anselme's advice had caused him to think deeply, and it
was necessar