ow is she, our dear Dame d'Heronac? Does she know that her husband will
come?"

"She knows nothing. I told her we should settle all questions to-morrow.
She offered to keep her word to me, the dear child."

"And she told you the whole story? She had the courage? Yes? That was
fine of her, because she has never spoken of all her sorrows directly,
even to me."

"She told me everything, Father. There are no secrets any more; and her
story is a pitiful one, because she was so young."

"It is possible it has been well for them," the priest said
meditatively, looking into the glowing fire in the stove whose door he
had opened. "They were too young and undisciplined at first for
happiness--they have come through so much suffering now they will cling
to each other and joy and not let it slip from their hands. She is more
suited to such a one as the Seigneur of Arranstoun than any other--there
is a vigor of youth in her which must find expression. And it is
something to be of noble blood, after all." Here he turned and looked
contemplatively at Henry. "It makes one able to surmount anguish and
remain a gentleman with manners, even at such a cruel crisis as this.
You have all my deep understanding and sympathy, my son. I, too, have
passed that way, and know your pain. But consolation will come. I find
it here in the cure of souls--you will find it in your England, leading
your fellow countrymen to finer ends. It is not for all of us, the glory
of the dawn or the meridian, but we can all secure a sunset of blessed
peace if we will." And then, as Henry wrung his thin old hand, he
muttered with tenderness, "Good-night, and _pax vobiscum_," while a
moisture glistened in his keen black eyes.

And when the door was closed upon his guest he turned back into his
little room, this thought going on with him:

"A great gentleman--though my Dame d'Heronac will be happier with the
fierce one. Youth must have its day, and all is well."

But Henry, striding in the dark with the sound of the rushing sea for
company, found no consolation.

When he got back to the chateau and was going up the chief staircase to
his room, he met Moravia coming down. She had just left Sabine and knew
the outlines of what had happened. Her astonishment and distress had
been great, but underneath, as she was only human, there was some sense
of personal upliftment; she could try to comfort the disconsolate lover
at least. Sabine had given her to understand tha