"Did he know it?" asked Chelda.
Aurelia opened wide her innocent blue eyes. "Oh, no, no,—how could he?"
Chelda pressed her handkerchief to her lips. Aurelia herself was the only person in Rossignol unaware of her childishly open admiration for the handsome young man. "How could you reconcile it with your conscience?" she asked, mildly, "to fall in love with a man who never showed you the slightest attention?"
"I could not—I did not," and Aurelia tried to hide her distressed face against the back of the sofa. "I knew it was wrong. I have suffered, oh, how I have suffered! And I prayed about it, but I couldn't seem to help it. He was so—so attractive, and he was in such trouble."
"Did you ever pray for him?" asked Chelda, in her gently inquisitorial manner.
"Every day of my life—every hour."
"Did you tell him?"
Aurelia shrank from her. "How could I do that? We never talked about anything but the Sunday school and the mothers' meetings."
Again Chelda's face contracted with amusement, and, leaving her, she went away to have a bed made ready for her.
Twice a day a woman from one of the neighbouring cottages was permitted by Miss Gastonguay to come in and give to Chelda, who was not a champion for the rights of men, any services that she might require. But the woman was not allowed to sleep under the roof, and Chelda was now in haste to find her before she left for the night.