arie-Antoinette Colombe
Brigide Zenobie
Eugenie Louise Angelique
Bernardette Ste. Anne.

The dining-room at Poussette's was transformed for the occasion into a
moderate sized concert hall, by the erection of a platform at one end
by Antoine Archambault under Pauline's skilled directions, and by rows
of planks crosswise over chairs, the people of the village joining
forces with those at Poussette's, just as in towns others conspire
together to hold fetes and bazaars; but Ringfield stood afar off and
would have nothing to say to it. Miss Clairville intercepted him that
day after dinner and asked him to assist her.

"I cannot think," said she, "how you remain so narrow in one respect,
while broad enough in others! I am sure that sermon yesterday about
the widow and the fatherless was the most beautiful thing I ever heard,
and that you have ever said. How then--is it wicked to get up a
concert, act, sing, and amuse ourselves, and all for a good object,
that we make money for the unfortunate? Ah--but I do not understand
you at all!"

"No, I suppose I cannot expect you to do so," replied Ringfield sadly.
"But I have never approved of similar practices in the city, and it
seems to me that I must now include the country. Why not make a
personal canvass from house to house, through the mill, and so on, and
interest the members of our small community in the Tremblays--I believe
you would raise more."

"Ah!" exclaimed Pauline, with a swift shrug of impatience; "see
now--how we should quarrel always! Quarrel? I think it would be one
grand, great long fight, if I--if I----" she faltered, and he noted
with quick passion the drooping of her ordinarily flashing eyes.

"If you----" he repeated softly. "Oh--say the rest, or if you would
rather not--I will say it for you. You mean, if you could make up your
mind to leave all this, leave everything and everyone you have known,
and come to me--is that it?"

They were for a moment completely alone, but as Antoine might approach
at any instant, laden with boughs of evergreen for decoration purposes,
conversation was of a stolen and hurried kind. Ringfield, in whom
first love had rapidly modified all natural shyness of the sex, was no
lukewarm lover; he took Pauline's hands, and bringing them to his lips,
pressed ardent kisses upon them, urging her to at once decide in his
favour and give him the right to guard her interests for ever. How or
where they would live wa