ly countenance,
shaded by long white locks, which fell on the collar of his black
cassock, which was pieced in more places than one; the abbe liked
better, as they said, to clothe one or two poor children in good warm
broadcloth, than _faire le muguet_; that is, to wear his cassocks less
than two or three years. The good abbe was so old, so very old, that his
hands trembled continually, and when he occasionally lifted them up,
when speaking, it might have been supposed that he was giving a
benediction.

"M. l'Abbe," said Rodolph, respectfully, "Madame Georges has undertaken
the guardianship of this young girl, for whom I also beg your kindness."

"She is entitled to it, sir, like all who come to us. The mercy of God
is inexhaustible, my dear child, and he has evinced it in not abandoning
you in most severe trials. I know all." And he took the hand of Marie in
his own withered and trembling palms. "The generous man who has saved
you has realised the words of Holy Writ, 'The Lord is near to all those
who call upon him; he will fulfil the desire of those who fear him; he
will hear their cries, and he will save them.' Now deserve his bounty by
your conduct, and you will always find one ready to encourage and
sustain you in the good path on which you have entered. You will have in
Madame Georges a constant example, in me a careful adviser. The Lord
will finish his work."

"And I will pray to him for those who have had compassion on me and have
led me to him, father," said La Goualeuse, throwing herself on her knees
before the priest. Her emotion overcame her; her sobs almost choked her.
Madame Georges, Rodolph, and the abbe were all deeply affected.

"Rise, my dear child," said the cure; "you will soon deserve absolution
from those serious faults of which you have rather been the victim than
the criminal; for, in the words of the prophet, 'The Lord raises up all
those who are ready to fall, and elevates those who are oppressed.'"

Murphy, at this moment, opened the door.

"M. Rodolph," he said, "the horses are ready."

"Adieu, father! adieu, Madame Georges! I commend your child to your
care,--our child, I should say. Farewell, Marie; I will soon come and
see you again."

The venerable pastor, leaning on the arms of Madame Georges and La
Goualeuse, who supported his tottering steps, left the room to see
Rodolph depart.

The last rays of the sun shed their light on this interesting yet sad
group:

An old priest, t