d, and she would rather die than speak.

The Superior hastened to assure her that he had no intention of
questioning her, but she would not listen to him. She was started, and a
wind-mill under full sail would have been more easily arrested than
her torrent of words, of which probably not one was true, for she
contradicted herself perpetually throughout her incoherent discourse,
yet withal there was something sincere, something touching even in this
love between mother and child. They had always been together. He had
been taught at home by masters, and she wished now to separate from him
only because of his intelligence and his eyes that saw things that were
not intended for his vision.

"The best thing to do, it seems to me," said the priest, gravely, "would
be to live such a life that you need fear neither the scrutiny of your
child nor of any one else."

"That was my wish, sir," she answered. "As Jack grew older, I wished to
make his home all that which it ought to be. Besides, before long, my
position will be assured. For some time I have been thinking of
marrying, but to do this it was necessary to send my boy away for a time
that he might obtain the education worthy of the name he ought to bear.
I thought that nowhere could he do as well as here, but at one blow you
repulse him and discourage his mother's good resolutions."

Here the Superior arrested her with an exclamation of astonishment. He
hesitated a moment; then looking her straight in her eyes, said,--

"So be it, madame. I yield to your wishes. Little Jack pleases me very
much; I consent to receive him among our pupils."

"My dear sir!"

"But on two conditions."

"I am ready to accept all."

"The first is, that until the day that your position is assured, the
child shall spend his vacations under this roof, and shall not return to
yours."

"But he will die, my poor Jack, if he does not see his mother!"

"Oh, you can come here whenever you please; only--and this is my second
condition--you will not see him in the parlor, but always here in my
private room, where I shall take care that you are not interfered with
and that no one sees you."

She rose in indignation.

The idea that she could never enter the parlor, or be present on the
reception-days, when she could astonish the other guests with the beauty
of her child, with the richness of her toilette, that she could never
say to her friends, "I met at the school, yesterday, Madame de C----