"She will not stumble," said Père Michaux. "She never stumbled in her life, Miss Lois. Of what are you thinking?" Miss Lois put on the shawl; and then, when they had reached the gate, "Run back, Rast," she said; "I have left my knitting." "Here it is," said the priest, promptly producing it. "I saw it on the table, and took charge of it." Miss Lois was very much obliged; but she was sure she heard some one calling. Perhaps it was Anne. If Rast-- "Only a night-bird," said Père Michaux, walking on. He left Miss Lois at the church-house; and then, linking his arm again in Rast's, accompanied him to his lodgings. "I am going to give you a parting present," he said--"a watch, the one I am wearing now. I have another, which will do very well for this region." The priest's watch was a handsome one, and Rast was still young enough to feel an immense satisfaction in such a possession. He took it with many thanks, and frankly expressed delight. The old priest accompanied his gift with fatherly good wishes and advice. It was now so late that he would take a bed in the house, he thought. In this way, too, he would be with Rast, and see the last of him. But love laughs at parsons. Père Michaux saw his charge to bed, and went to bed himself in an adjoining room. He slept soundly; but at the first peep of dawn his charge was gone--gone to meet Anne on the heights, as agreed between them the night before. O wise Père Michaux! The sun was not yet above the horizon, but Anne was there. The youth took her hands in his, and looked at her earnestly. He was half surprised himself at what he had done, and he looked at her again to see how it had happened. All his life from earliest childhood she had been his dearest companion and friend; but now she was his betrothed wife, would she be in any way different? The sun came up, and showed that she was just the same--calm, clear-eyed, and sweet-voiced. What more could he ask? "_Do_ you love me, Annet?" he said more than once, looking at her as though she ought to be some new and only half-comprehended person. "You know I do," she answered. Then, as he asked again, "Why do you ask me?" she said. "Has not my whole life shown it?" "Yes," he answered, growing more calm. "I believe you _have_ loved me all your life, Annet." "I have," replied the girl. He kissed her gently. "I shall always be kind to you," he said. Then, with a half-sigh, "You will like to live here?" "It is my home, Rast. However, other places will not seem strange after I have seen the great city. For of course I must go to New York, just the same, to learn to be a teacher, and help the children: we may be separated for years." "Oh no; I shall be able to take care of you all before long," said Rast, grandly. "As soon as I have been through college I shall look about and decide upon something. Would you like me to be a lawyer? Or a surgeon? Then there is always the army. Or we might have a farm." "There is only Frobisher's."