"Pah! you're a false priest!"—defiantly. "Where's the groom?"
And Adèle, hoping to pacify the poor woman, draws from her reticule the little rosary, and, holding it before the eyes of the sufferer, says, timidly,—
"My dear Madam, it is I,—Adèle; I have brought what you asked of me; I have come to comfort you."
And the woman, over whose face there ran instantly a marvellous change, snatched the rosary, and pressed it convulsively to her lips; then, looking for a moment yearningly, with that strange double gaze of hers, upon the face of Adèle, she sprang toward her, and, wreathing her arms about her, drew her fast upon her bosom,—
"Ma fille! ma pauvre fille!"
The boy slipped down from the bed,—his little importance being over,—and was gone. The Doctor's lips moved in silent prayer for five minutes or more, wholly undisturbed, while the twain were locked in that embrace. Then the old gentleman, stooping, says,—
"Adaly, will she listen to me now?"
And Adèle, turning a frightened face to him, whispers,—
"She's sleeping; unclasp her hands; she holds me tightly."
And the Doctor, with tremulous fingers, does her bidding.