s soon as there was work to do for
him she revived; and all these years she had kept his house, and cared
for him as if he were her son. From the day of Hetty's first arrival,
old Marie had adopted her into her affections: no one, not born
a Ladeau, ever had won such liking from Marie. Much to Hetty's
embarrassment, whenever she met her, she insisted on kissing her hand,
after the fashion of the humble servitors of great houses in France.
Probably, in all these long years of solitary service with Father
Antoine, Marie had pined for the sight of some one of her own sex, to
whom she could give allegiance, for she was fond of telling long stories
about the beautiful ladies of the house of Ladeau; and how she had
attired them for balls, and had seen them ride away with cavaliers.
There was neither splendor nor beauty in Hetty to attract Marie's fancy;
but Marie had a religious side to her nature, almost as strong as the
worldly and passionate one. She saw in Hetty's labors an exaltation of
devotion which reminded her of noble ladies who had done penances and
taken pilgrimages in her own country. Father Antoine's friendship for
Hetty, so unlike any thing Marie had seen him feel towards any woman he
had met in these wilds, also stimulated her fancy.

"Ah! but it is good that he has at last a friend to whom he may speak as
a Ladeau should speak. May the saints keep her! she has the good heart
of one the Virgin loves," said Marie, and many a candle did she buy
and keep burning on the convent's shrines for Hetty's protection and
conversion.

One night Marie overheard Father Antoine say to Hetty, as he bade her
good-night at the garden gate:

"My daughter, you look better and younger every day."

"Do I?" replied Hetty, cheerfully: "that's an odd thing for a woman so
old as I am. My birthday is next month. I shall be forty-six."

"Youth is not a matter of years," replied Father Antoine. "I have known
very young women much older than you." Hetty smiled sadly, and walked
on. Father Antoine's words had given her a pang. They were almost the
same words which Dr. Eben had said to her again and again, when she had
reasoned with him against his love for her, a woman so much older
than himself. "That is all very well to say," thought Hetty in her
matter-of-fact way, "and no doubt there are great differences in people:
but old age is old age, soften it how you will; and youth is youth; and
youth is beautiful, and old age is ugly. Fath