, and called aloud
for the sacristan.

"Blessed be God!" she exclaimed, when they had carried the girl into
the light of the vestry,--"it is Mademoiselle Fouchette!"

"What's she doing here?" demanded the man, with a mixture of suspicion
and indignation.

"Certainly nothing bad, monsieur. No, it can be nothing bad which
leads a young girl to prostrate herself at this hour before the altar
of the blessed Ste. Genevieve!"

"Ste. Genevieve! That girl? That---- Mere de Dieu! what next?"

"Chut!"

"But it's a sacrilege, my sister. It's a profanation of God's holy
temple!"

"S-sh! monsieur----"

"It's a wonder she was not stricken dead! Before Ste. Genevieve!"

"S-sh! monsieur," protested the religieuse, gently, "ne jugez pas!"

"But----"

"Ne jugez pas!"

They had, in the mean time, applied simple restoratives with such
effect that Mlle. Fouchette soon began to exhibit signs of
reanimation.

"Will you kindly leave me alone with her here for a few minutes?"
whispered Sister Agnes.

"Willingly," replied the ruffled attendant. "And mighty glad to----"

"S-sh!"

When Mlle. Fouchette's eyes were finally opened they first fell upon
the motherly face of Sister Agnes, then wandered rapidly about the
room, as if to fix her situation definitely, to again rest upon the
religieuse. And this look was one of inexpressible content,--of
boundless love and confidence.

Sister Agnes, who was seated on the edge of the sofa on which the girl
lay extended, leaned over and affectionately kissed her lips.

"You are much better now, my child?"

"Oh, yes, indeed! I was afraid it might be only--only a dream,--one
dreams such things, n'est-ce pas? But it is true! There is really a
God, and prayers are answered--when one believes,--yes; when one
believes very hard! Even the prayers of a poor little, miserable,
wicked, motherless girl like me. Ah!----"

"Cer--certainly, cherie; but don't try to talk just yet. Wait a bit.
You will feel stronger."

The religieuse thought the girl's mind was wandering.

"And good Ste. Genevieve heard me and had you sent to me. It was all I
asked. For I knew that if I only had you, I could be good, and I would
know what to do. It was all I asked--for myself. And you were sent at
once. Dear, good, sweet Sister Agnes!--the only one who ever loved
me!--except Tartar,--and love is necessary, n'est-ce pas?"

"You asked for me?"

Sister Agnes listened now with intense interest. Mlle. Fouchette wa