oice of an angel was heard afar off in the darkness.

The ringing of the Angelus went on. Her heart was utterly melted. Her
eyes, long parched, as a spent fountain in the burning desert, were
suddenly filled with tears. She felt no longer the agony of the eyes
that cannot weep. The blessed tears flowed quietly as the waters of
Shiloh, bringing relief to her poor soul, famishing for one true word of
affection. Long after the sweet bells ceased their chime Caroline kept
on praying for him, and long after the shades of night had fallen over
the Chateau of Beaumanoir.

CHAPTER XVI. ANGELIQUE DES MELOISES.

"Come and see me to-night, Le Gardeur." Angelique des Meloises drew the
bridle sharply as she halted her spirited horse in front of the officer
of the guard at the St. Louis Gate. "Come and see me to-night: I shall
be at home to no one but you. Will you come?"

Had Le Gardeur de Repentigny been ever so laggard and indifferent a
lover the touch of that pretty hand, and the glance from the dark eye
that shot fire down into his very heart, would have decided him to obey
this seductive invitation.

He held her hand as he looked up with a face radiant with joy. "I will
surely come, Angelique; but tell me--"

She interrupted him laughingly: "No; I will tell you nothing till you
come! So good-by till then."

He would fain have prolonged the interview; but she capriciously shook
the reins, and with a silvery laugh rode through the gateway and into
the city. In a few minutes she dismounted at her own home, and giving
her horse in charge of a groom, ran lightly up the broad steps into the
house.

The family mansion of the Des Meloises was a tall and rather pretentious
edifice overlooking the fashionable Rue St. Louis.

The house was, by a little artifice on the part of Angelique, empty of
visitors this evening. Even her brother, the Chevalier des Meloises,
with whom she lived, a man of high life and extreme fashion, was
to-night enjoying the more congenial society of the officers of the
Regiment de Bearn. At this moment, amid the clash of glasses and the
bubbling of wine, the excited and voluble Gascons were discussing in
one breath the war, the council, the court, the ladies, and whatever gay
topic was tossed from end to end of the crowded mess-table.

"Mademoiselle's hair has got loose and looks like a Huron's," said her
maid Lizette, as her nimble fingers reaerranged the rich dark-golden
locks of Angelique, whi