back with him."

"That would be a blessing. But she has an eager mind and now we are
learning that a broader education is necessary. It seems a pity--"

"Monsieur, there are only two lines that seem important for a woman. One
is the training to make her a good wife and mother, and in new countries
this is much needed. It is simplicity and not worldly arrogance,
obedience and not caviling; first as a daughter, then as a wife. To
guide the house, prepare the meals, teach her children the holy truths
of the Church, and this is all God will require of her. The other is to
devote her whole life to God's work, but not every one has this gift.
And she who bears children obeys God's mandate and will have her
reward."

"Whether the world is round or square," thought the Sieur St. Armand,
but he was too courteous even to smile. Jeanne Angelot would need a
wider life than this, and, if unduly narrowed, would spring over the
traces.

"You think M. Bellestre means to come?"

"He has put it off to next year now. There is so much unrest and
uncertainty all over the country, that at present he cannot leave his
business."

St. Armand sighed softly, thinking of Jeanne.

"Would you show the clothes and the trinkets?"

"O yes, Monsieur, to a person like you, but not to the idly curious.
Indeed, for that matter, they have been mostly forgotten. So many things
have happened to distract attention."

He rose and went to the old escritoire. Unlocking a drawer he took out a
parcel folded in a piece of cloth.

"The clothes she wore," he said, "even to the little shoes of deerskin.
There is nothing special about them to denote that she was the child of
a rich person."

That was very true, St. Armand saw, except that the little stockings
were fine and bore the mark of imported goods. He mused over them.

The priest opened a small, oblong box that still had the scent of snuff
about it. On it was the name of Bellestre. So that was no clew.

"Here is the necklet and the little ring and the paper with her name.
Madame Bellestre placed these in my hand some time before she died."

The chain was slender and of gold, the locket small; inside two painted
miniatures but very diminutive, and both of them young. One would hardly
be able to identify a middle aged person from them. There was no mark or
initials, save an undecipherable monogram.

"It is a pity there are no more chances of identification," St. Armand
said. "This and the stockin