Tessie, who had no stamina, looked worn out with one night’s watching; and I persuaded her to go to my room and sleep, whilst I sat with her sister. It was a melancholy task to listen to the poor child’s ravings, and I had to call up all my dearest thoughts of Armand, and to try and look steadily forward to the future that was opening for me, in order to keep my courage up to the sticking-point. ‘I do not believe it,’ Ange muttered rapidly—‘I do not believe it. I cannot believe it! He is _not_ married. Well, then, I will ask him myself. Where is he? At the Hôtel d’Etoile. I will go at once and ask him. It is but a step. What do my bare feet signify! I do not feel the stones. I only want to ask Cave if he is married. Yes, yes, I will go at once!’ and in a moment she was half out of bed, with her fevered feet upon the floor. ‘Dear, _dear_ Ange!’ I expostulated with her. ‘Get into bed again! Where would you go to, my darling? You are not dressed. You cannot leave the room. You must lie down like a good child and go to sleep.’ She stared at me as if I had been a stranger. ‘Who is it? Why would you keep me? I do not mind the cold. I must go to the Hôtel d’Etoile. Sophy says he is there every evening, and perhaps he is waiting for me. He used to be angry sometimes because I did not go to meet him; but I was afraid papa would hear of it. And papa is so good! Oh, he is so good! so good! He is like a bright saint from heaven. Do you believe he would do anybody a wrong? If people tell lies, that is not his fault. He has a glory round his head. Now it is a rainbow bridge, stretching right into heaven! Let me climb up it—up—up—up—till we go through the shining gates together! But there is such a pain in my head! It dazzles me to look at them.’ ‘Lie down, my darling Ange! and let me bathe your poor head with this cold water.’ ‘Oh, sister Celeste, is it you? I have not finished the priest’s vestment yet, _ma sœur_. There are so many stitches in it, and the gold thread sparkles so, it makes my head ache. But I shall finish it soon! very, very soon! and then dear papa shall pay Cave the hundred and twenty-five francs he owes him. They will give me all that, will they not, _ma sœur_—and perhaps more? Yes, yes; I know—you said so; and then Cave shall have one hundred and twenty-five francs—one hundred and twenty-five francs—one hundred and twenty-five francs! Oh, don’t ask me to count them over any more! They shine so, they make my head ache!’ So this was the secret of the little maid’s daily visits to the convent. She had been assisting the nuns in the embroidery orders they executed for the church, with the intention of paying back to Cave Charteris the money her father had borrowed from him. Sweet, tender, self-denying little heart! Had it broken in the effort to sacrifice itself?