t, and they silently shook hands.

"You are not aware, sir, why you have been sent for, I suppose?" the
priest asked, with his mild courtesy. "Pray be seated, there by the
stove, and I will endeavor to enlighten you."

Michael sat down.

"Please tell me everything," he said.

The Pere Anselme spread out his thin hands toward the warmth of the
china, while he remained standing opposite his visitor.

"The good God at last put it into the mind of the Lord Fordyce that our
Dame d'Heronac has not been altogether happy of late--and upon my
suggestion he questioned her as to the cause of this, and learned what I
believe to be the truth--which you, sir, can corroborate--namely, that
you are her husband and are obtaining the divorce not from desire, but
from a motive of loyalty to your friend."

"That is the case," assented Michael quietly, a sudden great joy in his
heart.

The priest was silent, so he went on:

"And what does Lord Fordyce mean to do?--release her and give her back
to me--or what, _mon Pere_?"

"Is it necessary to ask?" and Pere Anselme lifted questioning and almost
whimsical eyebrows. "Surely you must know that your friend is a
gentleman!"

"Yes, I know that--but it must mean the most awful suffering to
him--poor, dear old Henry--Is he quite knocked out?"

"The good God tries no one beyond his strength--he will find
consolation. But, meanwhile, it will be well that you let me offer you
the hospitality of my poor house for rest and refreshment"--here the old
man made a courtly bow--"and when you have eaten and perhaps bathed, you
can take the road to the Chateau of Heronac, where you will find Lord
Fordyce by the garden wall, and he will perhaps take you to Madame
Sabine. That is as he may think wisest--I believe she is quite
unprepared. Of the reception you are likely to receive from her you are
the best judge yourself."

"It seems too good to be true!" cried Michael, suddenly covering his
face with his hands. "We have all been through an awful time, _mon
Pere_."

"So it would seem. It is not the moment for me to tell you that you drew
it all upon yourselves--since the good God has seen fit to restore you
to happiness."

"I drew it upon us," protested Michael. "You know the whole story,
Father?"

The old priest coughed slightly.

"I know most of it, my son. In it, you do not altogether shine----"

Michael got up from his chair, while he clasped his hands forcibly.

"No, indeed, I do not