ng. Do you not see--he will make me promise, he will bother me into
something; dying people always do--I can't explain. If he would just
die and have done with it!"

Even the men felt the unusual distress of mind which prompted this
outburst of selfish candour, and Miss Cordova drew away.

"Seems to me your brother's in the hands of the Lord and I guess He's
mightier than you are. My mother's a New England woman and was always
afraid about my going on the stage, and I suppose I've gone wrong
_some_, but I couldn't, like you, go back on a poor, dying creature.
Say, Pauline, hadn't you better see a clergyman? Where's that young
man? Where's Mr. Ringfield?"

"I do not require his services, thank you. But yes--you mean well. If
I'm anything, I'm a Catholic, my dear--and now take all these things
and put them away. I think I shall never _marier_ with anyone in this
world. I must go, I suppose. Antoine will drive, and I shall go
alone."

Miss Cordova silently moved about the small room, not sharing in the
gloomy views of the prospective bride, for she carefully went on
packing the scanty trousseau which included badly mended _lingerie_,
the red dinner dress, and three gay satin waists bought by Crabbe in
the shops of St. Laurent, Main Street, one of canary and black lace,
another of rose colour, and a third of apple-green. There were veils
enough to stock a store, ties, collars, ribbons, small handkerchiefs
and showy stockings in profusion, with a corresponding dearth of strong
sensible clothing. The trousseau of Pauline was essentially French in
its airiness; its cheap splendours attested to one side of her peculiar
character and the sturdier and more sensible attributes of the _belle
Canadienne_ were for the time obliterated. The blanket coat and tuque
and the Camille dress were tied up by Miss Cordova for Maisie, and
within half an hour Pauline had departed with Antoine, and the others
lapsed to the unsettled calm which overtakes a community when it is
known that the inevitable must shortly occur. That unpleasant negative
condition of waiting for a death was now shared by all at Poussette's
as the news spread through St. Ignace. Father Rielle was seen to drive
away, and Dr. Renaud was already at the Manor House, but Ringfield,
shut up in his own room, reading and pondering, heard nothing of the
matter for several hours. However, Poussette and Miss Cordova, to
relieve tedium, went into the kitchen, where