kindly and
tender--the poor tailor's lonely woman will tell you. And she spent
hours with poor Madame Campeau when her own daughter left her and went
away to a convent, comforting her and reading prayers. No, she is not
cold hearted."

"Then you have taken all her love," complainingly.

"It is not that, either," returned the woman.

"Jeanne, I shall love thee always, cruel as thou hast been. And if thou
art so generous as to pray for others, say a little prayer that will
help me bear my loneliness through the cold northern winter that I had
hoped might be made warm and bright by thy presence. Have a little pity
if thou hast no love."

He was mournfully handsome as he stood there in the silvery light.
Almost her heart was moved. She said a special prayer for only one
person, but Louis Marsac might slip into the other class that was "all
the world."

"Monsieur, I will remember," bowing a little.

"Oh, lovely icicle, you are enough to freeze a man's soul, and yet you
rouse it to white heat! I can make no impression I see. Adieu, adieu."

He gave a sudden movement and would have kissed her mouth but she put
her hand across it, and Pani, divining the endeavor, rose at the same
instant.

"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot, you will repent this some day!" and his tone
was bitter with revenge.

Then he plunged down the street with an unsteady gait and was lost in
the darkness.

"Pani, come in, bar the door. And the shutter must be fastened;" pulling
the woman hastily within.

"But the night will be hot."

"It is cooler now. There has been a fresh breeze from the river. And--I
am sore afraid."

It was true that the night dews and the river gave a coolness to the
city at night, and on the other side was the great sweep of woods and
hills.

Nothing came to disturb them. Jeanne was restless and had bad dreams,
then slept soundly until after sunrise.

"Antoine," she said to the tailor's little lad, "go down to the wharf
and watch until the 'Flying Star' sails up the river. The tide is
early. I will reward you well."

"O Mam'selle, I will do it for love;" and he set off on a trot.

"There are many kinds of love," mused Jeanne. "Strange there should be a
kind that makes one afraid."

At ten the "Flying Star" went up the river.

"Thou hast been a foolish girl, Jeanne Angelot!" declared one of the
neighbors. "Think how thou mightst have gone up the river on a wedding
journey, and a handsome young husband such as falls