. It had been her Aunt Clotilde's habit to
fast very often.

She waited anxiously to hear that her Uncle Bertrand had left his room.
He always rose late, and this morning he was later than usual as he had
had a long gay dinner party the night before.

It was nearly twelve before she heard his door open. Then she went
quickly to the staircase. Her heart was beating so fast that she put her
little hand to her side and waited a moment to regain her breath. She
felt quite cold.

"Perhaps I must wait until he has eaten his breakfast," she said.
"Perhaps I must not disturb him yet. It would, make him displeased. I
will wait--yes, for a little while."

She did not return to her room, but waited upon the stairs. It seemed to
be a long time. It appeared that a friend breakfasted with him. She heard
a gentleman come in and recognized his voice, which she had heard before.
She did not know what the gentleman's name was, but she had met him going
in and out with her uncle once or twice, and had thought he had a kind
face and kind eyes. He had looked at her in an interested way when he
spoke to her--even as if he were a little curious, and she had wondered
why he did so.

When the door of the breakfast room opened and shut as the servants went
in, she could hear the two laughing and talking. They seemed to be
enjoying themselves very much. Once she heard an order given for the mail
phaeton. They were evidently going out as soon as the meal was over.

At last the door opened and they were coming out. Elizabeth ran down the
stairs and stood in a small reception room. Her heart began to beat
faster than ever.

"The blessed martyrs were not afraid," she whispered to herself.

"Uncle Bertrand!" she said, as he approached, and she scarcely knew her
own faint voice. "Uncle Bertrand--"

He turned, and seeing her, started, and exclaimed, rather
impatiently--evidently he was at once amazed and displeased to see her.
He was in a hurry to get out, and the sight of her odd little figure,
standing in its straight black robe between the _portieres_, the slender
hands clasped on the breast, the small pale face and great dark eyes
uplifted, was certainly a surprise to him.

"Elizabeth!" he said, "what do you wish? Why do you come downstairs? And
that impossible dress! Why do you wear it again? It is not suitable."

"Uncle Bertrand," said the child, clasping her hands still more tightly,
her eyes growing larger in her excitement and terr