nd his warm cheeks blush. Above John's queer, Irish chuckle,
I heard Edouard's voice, with its dainty Parisian accent, retailing
jokes and leading in the laughter. The tramp was stretched out longer
than usual, so pleasant did they find it. At this development I was much
amazed.

The same change was noticeable in all that Edouard did. Instead of the
apathy with which he had discharged his nominal duties, his baby pupils
(for Photius had gone to Peru) now became bewitched with him. He told
them droll stories, incited their rivalry in study by instituting prizes
for which they struggled monthly, and, in short, metamorphosed his
department. The change spread to himself. His cheeks took on a ruddier
hue, the sparkle of his black eyes mellowed into a calm and steady
radiance. There was no trace of feverish elation which, in solitude,
recoiled to the brink of despair. He sang to himself evenings in his
dormitory, clearly and with joy. His step was as elastic as that of any
school-boy. I often thought upon this change, and meditated how
beautiful an illustration of confession's blessings it furnished.
Frequently we were alone, but he never referred again to that memorable
evening, even by implication. At first I dreaded to have the door close
upon us, feeling that he must perforce seek to take up the thread where
he had broken it then. But he talked of other things, and so easily and
naturally that I felt embarrassed. For weeks I could not shake off the
feeling that, at our next talk, he would broach the subject. But he
never did.

Elysee returned, bringing me kind words from the Mother house, and a
half-jocular hint that Superior General Philippe had me much in his
mind. No doubt there had been a time when the idea of becoming a
Director would have stirred my pulses. Surely it was gone now. I asked
for nothing but to stay beside Edouard, to watch him, and to be near to
lend him a helping hand when his hour of trouble should come. From that
ordeal, which I saw approaching clearly and certainly, I shrank with all
my nerves on edge. As the object of my misery grew bright-eyed and
strong, I felt myself declining in health. My face grew thin, and I
could not eat. I saw before my eyes always this wretched boy singing
upon the brow of the abyss. Sometimes I strove not to see his
fall--frightful and swift. His secret seemed to harass him no longer.
To me it was heavier than lead.

The evening the Brother Director returned, we sat