ater, that she was possessed with
the idea of her son being in Quebec, or I might have persuaded her
of its folly. But I knew nothing of it, and thought she was quite
content to await your return, when we were astonished by her
disappearance. She left a note behind, which, however, did not tell
us anything beyond the word Quebec, as it was, of course, in English.
Angelique, fetch the note; it is in my red box. We had search made
for her as soon as possible, and heard of her along the road as
far as Beaumont, but there all trace was lost. Here is the note,
my dear," she said, as Angelique entered.

The poor little letter was not addressed, and was written in a
trembling hand.

"I am going to Quebec to find my son" [I read]. "M. de
Sarennes tells me he is there, and I need not stay from
him now my mistress is gone. I am thankful to every one
who was kind to me, and I will pray for each one every
night. LUCY."

"It is as I thought," said Mme. de Sarennes. "Poor soul, I am more
distressed at the thought of her unrest than for her safety, for
our people are very good, particularly to any one they see is not
of strong mind. She had some money, Angelique tells me. I have sent
her description to the different convents, where they are likely
to know of any one in want; and in a small place like this it will
not be long before we hear of her."

"But I am greatly distressed, madame, that you should have had this
anxiety, in addition to what I have caused."

"If we had not cared for her, we should have had no anxiety; and
as for yourself, my dear, you must not think we were troubled when
le pere Jean told us you were under his direction; and now that
you have come back to us in safety, your long absence is atoned
for. I did not know I could have missed any one so much who was
outside of my own family."

This unexpected tenderness from one I had respected rather than
loved, for I had stood somewhat in awe of the usually unresponsive
old lady, touched me more than I can tell, and gave me a sense of
home and protection which I had long missed, and it was a pain to
think I was forced to hide the true reason of my flight from her
loyal heart.

The Sarennes house made one of a tower-like group of dwellings
forming a little island, as it were, at the head of the Cote de la
Montagne, round which swept the streets to zigzag down the long,
steep hill, and join, after many turnings, at its foot. Fronting
it stood th