ishment; and, as she
took it, added: "Thank you, Father Loriot."

"You do not want anything?"

"No, Father Loriot."

"My respects to the ladies!" and the dyer went out.

"Mother Bunch, will you read this letter for me?" said Frances, anxious
to learn the contents of the missive in question.

"Yes, mother,"--and the young girl read as follows:

"'MY DEAR MADAME BAUDOIN,--I am in the habit of hearing you Tuesday and
Saturday, but I shall not be at liberty either to-morrow or the last day
of the week; you must then come to me this morning, unless you wish to
remain a whole week without approaching the tribunal of penance.'"

"Good heavens! a week!" cried Dagobert's wife. "Alas! I am only too
conscious of the necessity of going there today, notwithstanding the
trouble and grief in which I am plunged."

Then, addressing herself to the orphans, she continued: "Heaven has
heard the prayers that I made for you, my dear young ladies; this very
day I shall be able to consult a good and holy man with regard to the
great dangers to which you are exposed. Poor dear souls, that are so
innocent, and yet so guilty, without any fault of your own! Heaven is my
witness, that my heart bleeds for you as much as for my son."

Rose and Blanche looked at each other in confusion; they could not
understand the fears with which the state of their souls inspired
the wife of Dagobert. The latter soon resumed, addressing the young
sempstress:

"My good girl, will you render me yet another service?"

"Certainly."

"My husband took Agricola's week's wages with him to pay his journey
to Chartres. It was all the money I had in the house; I am sure that my
poor child had none about him, and in prison he will perhaps want some.
Therefore take my silver cup, fork, and spoon, the two pair of sheets
that remain over, and my wadded silk shawl, that Agricola gave me on my
birthday, and carry them all to the pawnbroker's. I will try and find
out in which prison my son is confined, and will send him half of
the little sum we get upon the things; the rest will serve us till my
husband comes home. And then, what shall we do? What a blow for him--and
only more misery in prospect--since my son is in prison, and I have
lost my sight. Almighty Father!" cried the unfortunate mother, with an
expression of impatient and bitter grief, "why am I thus afflicted? Have
I not done enough to deserve some pity, if not for myself, at least for
those belonging to me