half of College progress since, he had been astonishing us with
similar terrible application and results. Professors encouraged, friends
applauded, we wondered at and admired him. We did not envy him, however,
for he became, as I commenced by saying, a pitiable wreck. Look at him
as he stoops upon the horse!

* * * * *

Good old Father St. Esprit--oldest and humblest of the Order in the
College--who was his friend, and whom everybody, and especially Quinet,
venerated, took a private word with him before he departed from that
institution.

"My son," said he, "I see the quality of thy mind, and that the Church
of God will not be able to contain thee. Thou mayst wander, poor child;
yet carry thou at least in thy heart ever love of what thou seest to be
good, and respect for what is venerated by another. Put this word away
in thy soul in memory of thy friend the Pere St. Esprit."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE TOBOGGAN SLIDE.

"What is there in this blossom-hour should knit
An omen in with every simple word?"

--ISABELLA VALANCEY CRAWFORD.

During the next few days I could do nothing of interest to me but make
prudent enquiries about Alexandra Grant. I remember an answer of Little
Steele's "Ah--_That_ is a beautiful girl!"

"You _were_ beautiful, Alexandra!"

I caught glimpses of her on the street and in her carriage; memory marks
the spots by a glow of light; they are my holy places. I saw her open
her purse for a blind man begging on a church step. I watched her turn
and speak politely to a ragged newsgirl. One day, when Quinet and I,
coming down from College and seeing a little boy fall on the path, threw
away our books and set him on his feet, it was _her_ face of approval
that beamed out of a carriage window on the opposite side of the street.

I was introduced to her at the Mackenzie's, at a toboggan party given
for Lockhart, the son, my friend.

Shall I ever forget our slide on the toboggan hill and my emotions in
that simple question, "Will you slide with me?"

I was already far into a _grande passion_,--foolish and desperate.

She assented, stepped over to my toboggan kindly, sat down and placed
her feet under its curled front. The crown of the hill about us was
illumined by a circle of Chinese lanterns, and the moon, rising in the
East, reflected a dim light on the fields of snow. I lifted the
toboggan, gave the little run and leaped on at the end of the cushion,