"It was a sad sight," said the abbé.
"I was too late, mon ami; he murmured a word or two in my ear I could not understand. He confessed to God."
"And mademoiselle—"
"She sat at the foot of the couch when I went in, with her hands clasped in her lap, and her eyes fixed on the poor gentleman's face; now and then a tear rolled off her cheeks—but she did not know it.
"Presently the dying man beckoned to her. She stole softly to the head of the couch, and laid her little white hand in his withered fingers.
"'Marie,' said he, 'dear Marie, I shall be gone—soon.'
"The poor girl burst into tears, and gathered up the palsied hand of the old man in both hers, as if she would not let him go.
"'Marie,' continued he, very feebly, 'you will want a friend.'
"Again the poor girl answered by a burst of tears. She could say nothing.