e Street must pass
the corner, or else make a half-mile detour and approach from the other
direction--which the person never did. Tom had thought it out the first
night that the image of Miss Betty had kept him awake--and that was the
first night Miss Carewe spent in Rouen--the St. Mary's girl would be
sure to go to mass every day, which was why the window-ledge was dusted
the next morning.

The glass doors of the little corner drug-store caught the early sun of
the hot May morning and became like sheets of polished brass; a farmer's
wagon rattled down the dusty street; a group of Irish waitresses from
the hotel made the boardwalk rattle under their hurried steps as they
went toward the church, talking busily to one another; and a blinking
youth in his shirt-sleeves, who wore the air of one newly, but not
gladly, risen, began to struggle mournfully with the shutters of
Madrillon's bank. A moment later, Tom heard Crailey come down the
stairs, sure of foot and humming lightly to himself. The door of the
office was closed; Crailey did not look in, but presently appeared,
smiling, trim, immaculate, all in white linen, on the opposite side of
the street, and offered badinage to the boy who toiled at the shutters.

The bell had almost ceased to ring when a lady, dressed plainly in
black, but graceful and tall, came rapidly out of Carewe Street, turned
at the corner by the little drug-store, and went toward the church. The
boy was left staring, for Crailey's banter broke off in the middle of a
word.

He overtook her on the church steps, and they went in together.

That afternoon Fanchon Bareaud told Tom how beautiful her betrothed
had been to her; he had brought her a great bouquet of violets and
lilies-of-the-valley, and had taken her to the cemetery to place them
on the grave of her baby brother, whose birthday it was. Tears came
to Fanchon's eyes as she spoke of her lover's goodness, and of how
wonderfully he had talked as they stood beside the little grave.

"He was the only one who remembered that this was poor tiny Jean's
birthday!" she said, and sobbed. "He came just after breakfast and asked
me to go out there with him."

CHAPTER XII. The Room in the Cupola

Mr. Carewe returned, one warm May afternoon, by the six o'clock boat,
which was sometimes a day late and sometimes a few hours early; the
latter contingency arising, as in the present instance, when the owner
was aboard. Nelson drove him from the wharf