However, I was not suffered to come to any conclusion, for Mme. de Sarennes met us as we entered, with tidings that drove everything else out of my head for the moment.
“Marguerite, I have news for you. La mère de Ste. Hélène sends word, saying an Englishwoman has been brought to the Hôtel-Dieu, and from the description I believe her to be Lucie. Do you both go at once and ascertain.”
We hurried off in great excitement, and an interview with the Superior satisfied us that the patient was indeed my poor Lucy. She had been found that very morning, wandering in a benumbed and dazed condition on the road by the St. Charles, by a habitant coming with his load to early market, and as he had business at the Hôtel-Dieu, he had carried her there and given her in charge of the nuns. She was much exhausted by cold and fasting, but sleep and food had restored her to consciousness, and, on finding she was English, they had at once sent us word.
“If you wish, you may see her now, madame,” said the Superior. “And if we are right, it will serve to reassure her, for she is much troubled at being detained here.”
Thanking her, I took my way in charge of a sister, and quietly entered the sick-room. The first glance at the frail face on the pillow told me our search had ended, and there was instant recognition in the eyes that met mine. I was by her bedside in a moment.
“Oh, my dear mistress!” she sobbed. “It was wicked of me to desert you, but I did not understand where you had gone.”
“No, no, Lucy; I am the one to be forgiven. I should never have left you; but now we are together again, and when you are well nothing shall part us.”
“Will you stay with me now? I am afraid here! It is all so strange, and I am not well,” she ended, pitifully.
“Yes, Lucy, I will stay. But first I must ask permission, and send word to Mme. de Sarennes.”
“Will you say to her that I am sorry?”