e certainly is very ill, but I cannot agree with Doctor Prenoveau,
if he says there is no hope." The words were kindly spoken, for he had
noticed how the old man trembled and how poorly assumed was his air of
defiance.

"You really think she may not die, doctor?" he asked, almost
incredulously.

"I really think not."

Farmer Frechette sank heavily on his chair. "I am beginning to feel
old, very old, doctor," he said weakly.

Never before had Doctor Chalmers taken so keen an interest in a case.
Inch by inch he contested with death for the life of the young girl
upon whose recovery was founded so many hopes.

It was a beautiful June day when, for the first time since Adele's
illness, she ventured out of the house, supported on the young
doctor's arm, and walked as far as the little garden at the back of
the house. Very lovely she looked in her light-colored, soft, clinging
dress, large brimmed straw hat, the health color struggling back to
her cheeks, her sweet lips parted, and her heavily fringed dark eyes
lighted up with hope and happiness.

Among his friends, Doctor Chalmers was known as a man not prone to
many words. Could they but have heard him this afternoon as he sat by
her side on the quaint garden seat, they simply would have been
astounded.

It had come so gradually, this love of his, that before he was quite
aware, it had taken possession of his heart so that no reasoning could
have forced it to withdraw. He saw no reason, indeed, why he should
wish to banish it; besides being beautiful and winning, she had
received an excellent education, and was in every way fitted to be his
wife. Of Adele's dedication to the Church from her birth, he knew
nothing, so that no misgivings assailed him. Little wonder then that
his heart should be light, and that the primitive garden should appear
to him the most beautiful spot he had ever seen.

After this little walk and chat in the garden, life seemed to come
back to her with strides. By the end of August Adele was quite strong
again. The change in her health made a new man of her father; from the
day Doctor Prenoveau had said she would not recover, until the day
Doctor Chalmers had pronounced her out of danger, he had not entered
the doors of the church. Now all was different; twice a week he went
to confession, and almost every day knelt before the altar and asked
forgiveness for the dreadful sins of the past. It had never struck him
as being strange that Doctor