d after he
lifted her from her lowly sphere, and would tremble whenever she met any
of his own sort, of course it may be a sad mistake, but it can't be
helped. She must go back to Eriecreek, and try to worry along without
him. Perhaps she'll work out her destiny some other way."

XIV.

AFTERWARDS.

Mrs. Ellison had Kitty's whole story, and so has the reader, but for a
little thing that happened next day, and which is perhaps scarcely
worthy of being set down.

Mr. Arbuton's valise was sent for at night from the Hotel St. Louis, and
they did not see him again. When Kitty woke next morning, a fine cold
rain was falling upon the drooping hollyhocks in the Ursulines' Garden,
which seemed stricken through every leaf and flower with sudden autumn.
All the forenoon the garden-paths remained empty, but under the porch by
the poplars sat the slender nun and the stout nun side by side, and held
each other's hands. They did not move, they did not appear to speak.

The fine cold rain was still falling as Kitty and Fanny drove down
Mountain Street toward the Railway Station, whither Dick and the baggage
had preceded them, for they were going away from Quebec. Midway, their
carriage was stopped by a mass of ascending vehicles, and their driver
drew rein till the press was over. At the same time Kitty saw advancing
up the sidewalk a figure grotesquely resembling Mr. Arbuton. It was he,
but shorter, and smaller, and meaner. Then it was not he, but only a
light overcoat like his covering a very common little man about whom it
hung loosely,--a burlesque of Mr. Arbuton's self-respectful overcoat, or
the garment itself in a state of miserable yet comical collapse.

"What is that ridiculous little wretch staring at you for, Kitty?" asked
Fanny.

"I don't know," answered Kitty, absently.

The man was now smiling and gesturing violently. Kitty remembered having
seen him before, and then recognized the cooper who had released Mr.
Arbuton from the dog in the Sault au Matelot, and to whom he had given
his lacerated overcoat.

The little creature awkwardly unbuttoned the garment, and took from the
breast-pocket a few letters, which he handed to Kitty, talking eagerly
in French all the time.

"What _is_ he doing, Kitty?"

"What is he saying, Fanny?"

"Something about a ferocious dog that was going to spring upon you, and
the young gentleman being brave as a lion and rushing forward, and
saving your life." Mrs. Ellison was n