ittle
one by death about the same age. She supposed at first that some one
would claim it, but no one ever did. Then she brought the child to me
and had it christened by the name on the card, Jeanne Angelot. Madame
had a longing for the ministrations of the Church, but her husband was
opposed. In her last illness he consented. He loved her very dearly. I
think he was afraid of the influence of a priest, but he need not have
been. She gave me all the things belonging to the child, and I promised
to yield them up to the one who claimed her, or Jeanne herself when she
was eighteen, or on her wedding day when she was married. Her husband
promised to provide for the child as long as she needed it. He was very
fond of her, too."

"And was there no suspicion?" St. Armand hesitated.

The pale face betrayed a little warmth and the slim fingers clasped each
other.

"I understand, Monsieur. There was and I told him of it. With his hand
on God's word he declared that he knew no more about her than Pani's
story, and that he had loved his wife too well for his thoughts ever to
stray elsewhere. He was an honest, upright man and I believe him. He
planned at first to take the child to New Orleans, but Mademoiselle, who
was about fourteen, objected strenuously. She _was_ jealous of her
father's love for the child. M. Bellestre was a large, fair man with
auburn hair and hazel eyes, generous, kindly, good-tempered. The child
is dark, and has a passionate nature, beats her playmates if they offend
her, though it is generally through some cruel thing they have done. She
has noble qualities but there never has been any training. Yet every one
has a good word for her and a warm side. I do not think the child would
tell a lie or take what did not belong to her. She would give all she
had sooner."

"You interest me greatly. But would it not be wiser for her to have a
better home and different training? Does M. Bellestre consent to have
her grow up in ignorance?"

"I have proposed she and Pani should come to the Recollet house. We have
classes, you know, and there are orphan children. Several times we have
coaxed her in, but it was disastrous. She set our classes in an uproar.
The sister put her in a room by herself and she jumped out of the window
and threatened to run away to the woods if she were sent again. M.
Bellestre thinks to come to Detroit sometime, when it will be settled no
doubt. His daughter is married now. He may take Jeanne