"but before we separate, Monsieur
le Cure, I have one favor to ask you. I should like very much, the first
time I dine at Longueval, that you would dine with me, and you, too,
Monsieur Jean, just us four alone like to-day. Oh! do not refuse my
invitation; it is given with all my heart."

"And accepted as heartily," replied Jean.

"I will write and tell you the day, and it shall be as soon as possible.
You call that having a housewarming, don't you? Well, we shall have the
house-warming all to ourselves."

Meanwhile, Pauline had drawn Miss Percival into a corner of the room,
and was talking to her with great animation. The conversation ended with
these words:

"You will be there?" said Bettina, "and you will tell me the exact
moment?"

"I will tell you, but take care. Here is Monsieur le Cure; he must not
suspect anything."

The two sisters, the Cure, and Jean left the house. To go to the church
they were obliged to cross the churchyard. The evening was delicious.
Slowly, silently, under the rays of the setting sun, the four walked
down a long avenue.

On their way was the monument to Dr. Reynaud, very simple, but which, by
its fine proportions, showed distinctly among the other tombs.

Mrs. Scott and Bettina stopped, struck with this inscription carved on
the stone:

"Here lies Dr. Marcel Reynaud, Surgeon-Major of the Souvigny Mobiles;
killed January 8, 1871, at the Battle of Villersexel. Pray for him."

When they had read it, the Cure, pointing to Jean, said:

"It was his father!"

The two sisters drew near the tomb, and with bent heads remained there
for some minutes, pensive, touched, contemplative. Then both turned, and
at the same moment, by the same impulse, offered their hands to Jean;
then continued their walk to the church. Their first prayer at Longueval
had been for the father of Jean.

The Cure went to put on his surplice and stole. Jean conducted Mrs.
Scott to the seat which belonged to the masters of Longueval.

Pauline had gone on before. She was waiting for Miss Percival in the
shadow behind one of the pillars. By a steep and narrow staircase, she
led Bettina to the gallery, and placed her before the harmonium.

Preceded by two little chorister boys, the old Cure left the vestry, and
at the moment when he knelt on the steps of the alter:

"Now! Mademoiselle," said Pauline, whose heart beat with impatience.
"Poor, dear man, how pleased he will be."

When he heard the sound of the mu