"Of Marie Gourdon, all you tell me is most satisfactory. When first I sent her to fight her way in the world, I had fears. In her profession there are so many evil influences to contend with that, in spite of her undoubted talent, I hesitated before letting her go. But I need not have feared. Marie Gourdon has one of those pure white souls——"
"Perhaps I had better not go on?" said Eugène, smiling.
Marie nodded and murmured half to herself—"Dear M. Bois-le-Duc, I am glad to hear he thinks so well of me. Please continue."
"—one of those pure white souls that can pass through the fire of any temptation and come out purer, stronger, holier. She has doubly repaid me for any pains I took with her education. Long ago she insisted on returning the money spent on her training, and every year regularly, she sends me two hundred dollars to be spent on the poor suffering pilgrims, who come to the church at Father Point. Yes, I am justly proud of two of my pupils; the disappointment I suffer because of the conduct of the third only serves to heighten the contrast. I beg of you never to mention his name again to me. Never allude to Noël McAllister in your letters in the slightest way. The manner in which he treated——"
Here Lacroix hesitated, grew very red and lost his place.
Marie, observing his distress, remarked placidly: "Please go on, I do not mind; that is all a closed page in my history."
"The manner in which he treated," continued Lacroix, "that poor girl was unpardonable. At an age, too, when she should have been most carefully guarded, when her feelings were most sensitive, he, for all he knew to the contrary, broke her heart. And, under the cowardly pretence that it was she who bade him go, he left her to live, for aught he cared, a dreary, colorless existence at Father Point.
"Fortunately Marie was a girl of no ordinary stamp. She could rise above disappointments—remember, I do not say forget them; and she threw her whole energies into her art. I am a priest, and know human nature, its weakness and its strength—and human nature is the same all the world over—and I can honestly say that the daughter of the fisherman at Father Point is the noblest woman I have ever met.
"I can feel no interest in what you tell me of Noël McAllister. As I said before, I do not wish you to mention him. Madame McAllister died last week, very calmly and peacefully. We laid her in the churchyard beside her husband and his ancestors. She had been very frail of late years, but of course she was a great age, ninety-six.
"You will scarcely know Father Point when you return. An enterprising merchant from Montreal has built a large summer hotel on the Point, and hopes to attract crowds of visitors during the warm weather.