eseen death and prayed
against it, she faced the priest with a smiling countenance, her
tremors past, her conviction--that her lover was alive and well and
able to take her away that instant if necessary--quite unaltered.
Father Rielle had a difficult task to perform and he realized it.

Twice he essayed to speak and twice he stammered only unmeaning words.
Pauline translated his incoherent and confused murmurs with
characteristic and vigorous conceit; she believed him so anxious to
make her a private farewell instead of a stereotyped adieu in public
that she thought he had walked out from St. Ignace on purpose.

"It is all settled and therefore hopeless!" she began. "You cannot
interfere or change me now."

The priest repeated the words after her. "Settled? Hopeless?" he
uttered in a furtive manner as if anxious to escape.

"I mean my marriage," she went on gaily. "It has been discovered that
I am no longer, if I was ever, a good Catholic, and there is
consequently no hitch, no difficulty! I am supposed to be nothing at
all, so we shall be just married in the one church, his church, you
understand. And now you may absolve me, your Reverence, if you choose,
for the last time."

"Mademoiselle," began the priest with a scared look at the bright face
above him, "it is of that I must speak. Mademoiselle, this marriage,
your marriage, it--it will not take place. It cannot take place."

The brilliant eyes hardened, the barred gate stood out upon her
forehead.

"You think because I am a Catholic----"

"No, Mademoiselle, it has nothing to do with that. I came here to tell
you, I was sent--there is something you must be told, that you must
know--it is very difficult for me. Oh! Mademoiselle, I find it even
more difficult than I thought, I must have help, I must ask some one
else, I cannot--cannot."

His voice broke, stopped. The other men, turning at last towards the
house, saw the priest's bowed head and Pauline's bright but angry face,
and Dr. Renaud at once came to Father Rielle's rescue.

"Mademoiselle," he began, but Pauline, leaving the door open, rushed
down the walk and met him at the gate. Her hands were pressed upon her
bosom and her wild eyes sought his in alarm, for she knew now that
something had happened, that something was wrong, although the mental
picture of Crabbe lying dead or dying did not occur to her. She
figured instead, some quibble, some legal matter, a money strait, a
delay, b