r. I--wish everything were
different, so that--I think I should love her very much if I might."

"Mademoiselle," said Ste. Marie, "will you promise me something?"

She looked at him with her sombre eyes, and after a little she said: "I
am afraid you must tell me first what it is. I cannot promise blindly."

He said: "I want you to promise me that if anything ever should
happen--any difficulty--trouble--anything to put you in the position of
needing care or help or sympathy--"

But she broke in upon him with a swift alarm, crying: "What do you mean?
You're trying to hint at something that I don't know. What difficulty or
trouble could happen to me? Please tell me just what you mean."

"I'm not hinting at any mystery," said Ste. Marie. "I don't know of
anything that is going to happen to you, but--will you forgive me for
saying it?--your father is, I take it, often exposed to--danger of
various sorts. I'm afraid I can't quite express myself, only, if any
trouble should come to you, Mademoiselle, will you promise me to go to
Lady Margaret, your aunt, and tell her who you are and let her care for
you?"

"There was an absolute break," she said. "Complete."

But the man shook his head, saying:

"Lady Margaret won't think of that. She'll think only of you--that she
can mother you, perhaps save you grief--and of herself, that in her old
age she has a daughter. It would make a lonely old woman very happy,
Mademoiselle."

The girl bent her head away from him, and Ste. Marie saw, for the first
time since he had known her, tears in her eyes. After a long time she
said:

"I promise, then. But," she said, "it is very unlikely that it should
ever come about--for more than one reason. Very unlikely."

"Still, Mademoiselle," said he, "I am glad you have promised. This is an
uncertain world. One never can tell what will come with the to-morrows."

"I can," the girl said, with a little tired smile that Ste. Marie did
not understand. "I can tell. I can see all the to-morrows--a long, long
row of them. I know just what they're going to be like--to the very
end."

But the man rose to his feet and looked down upon her as she sat before
him. And he shook his head.

"You are mistaken," he said. "Pardon me, but you are mistaken. No one
can see to-morrow--or the end of anything. The end may surprise you very
much."

"I wish it would!" cried Mlle. O'Hara. "Oh, I wish it would!"

* * * * *