Sister Andre followed the stranger with a wistful glance, and then turned her eyes upon me.
"It is all right, Amey," she said, gently, "to-morrow will do."
I sat down in a state of dumb confusion, feeling dazed and mystified. Something urged me to affirm I had no valid reason for being excused, and looking across towards my apparent benefactor for some vague explanation of her conduct, I saw a re-assuring, encouraging expression in her eyes as they met mine, so I merely smiled and said nothing.
That evening when supper was over and the hour of recreation had arrived, I walked to the end of the pillared hall, where our new pupil stood gazing aimlessly out of a window that looked into our summer play-ground, at the rear of the convent, she did not hear my approaching step, apparently, for she never moved until I slipped my arm gently within her own and whispered:
"I have come to thank you for the great service you have done me to-day."
She started suddenly and looked up at me with the loveliest brown eyes I ever saw, a smile crept into the corners of her rich red lips, which broke asunder quietly and somewhat sadly, revealing, as they did so, two rows of pretty, even teeth. Whether or not, I was partially disposed to admire her on account of the sentiments with which I approached her, I must admit that I thought I never saw such a vision of sparkling, feminine beauty in my life as she presented at that moment.
"Oh, Miss Hampden," she exclaimed, with a suspicion of a pretty foreign accent "don't speak of it, please, I realized your trying situation, and thought I knew something of the cause that provoked it."
She had turned from the window and was toying familiarly with the blue badge which, as a member of the Sodality of the Blessed Virgin, I have always worn, her words surprised me, and I asked with an undisguised curiosity.
"What did you know, Miss. ——?"
"Not Miss" she interrupted, while I stopped, not knowing what name to call her by, "Hortense," she emphasized, "Hortense de Beaumont, that is my name."