world,--to
remain here prisoners for life, or to cast themselves into the
seething hell of Paris.

More than all, she dared not add that all of this was done in a
so-called republic, in the name of Civilization, to the glory of
modern Religion, in love of the Redeemer.

Fouchette would learn all of this quite soon enough through her own
observation and experience. Why needlessly embitter her present?

And this was well. Besides, the religieuse was ashamed to admit these
things, as she would have been afraid to deny them, being divided
between the vows of her order and her own private conscience.

Sister Agnes was a plain, honest woman of little sentiment, but this
little had been curiously awakened in her breast by the coincidence of
the time and place which had recalled minutely the circumstances of
her own entrance to the institution.

She had unconsciously adopted Fouchette from that moment. She mentally
resolved that she would keep an eye on this child. If it could be so
managed, Fouchette should come into her section. And, since the child
was ignorant and ambitious, she should receive whatever advantages of
instruction were to be had.

Quick to respond to this sympathy, Fouchette, on her part, mentally
resolved to deserve it. She would be good and obedient, so that the
sweet lady would love her and continue to kiss her. How could girls be
wicked if all the women of the community of Le Bon Pasteur were like
Sister Agnes?

And it would have been quite unnatural and unchildlike, owing to the
marked improvement in her condition, if Fouchette had not gone to
sleep forgetting her earlier disappointment.

* * * * *

Five years in such a place are as one year,--the same monotonous daily
grind in oblivion of the great world outside,--and need not be dwelt
upon here beyond a brief reference to its results upon Fouchette's
character, when we must hurry the reader on to more eventful scenes.

In this life of seclusion there were three saving features in
Fouchette's case. First, its worst conditions were very much better
than those under which she had formerly lived; second, she had been
torn from no family or friendly ties which might have weighed upon her
fancy; third, but not least, there was the love of Sister Agnes.

The petite chiffonniere's ideas of life had been cast in a lowly and
humble mould, so that from the beginning these new surroundings seemed
highly satisfactory, if