He laid the wood on the hearth, and with the bellows blew it to a leaping flame. While he was thus occupied, Aileen looked around her. She knew this room and loved it. The stone fireplace was deep and ample, built by Father Honore,--indeed, the entire one storey house was his handiwork. Above it hung a large wooden crucifix. On the shelf beneath were ranged some superb specimens of quartz and granite. The plain deal table, also of ample proportions, was piled at one end high with books and pamphlets. Two large windows overlooked the pond, the sloping depression of The Gore, the course of the Rothel, and the headwaters of Lake Mesantic. Some plain wooden armchairs were set against the walls that had been rough plastered and washed with burnt sienna brown. On them was hung an exquisite engraving--the Sistine Madonna and Child. There were also a few etchings, among them a copy of Whistler's _The Thames by London Bridge_, and a view of Niagara by moonlight. A mineral cabinet, filled to overflowing with fine specimens, extended the entire length of one wall. The pine floor was oiled and stained; large hooked rugs, genuine products of Maine, lay here and there upon it. Many a man coming in from the quarries or the sheds with a grievance, a burden, or a joy, felt the influence of this simple room. Many a woman brought here her heavy over-charged heart and was eased in its fire-lighted atmosphere of welcome. Many a child brought hither its spring offering of the first mitchella, or its autumn gift of checkerberries. Many a girl, many a boy had met here to rehearse a Christmas glee or an Easter anthem. Many a night these walls echoed to the strains of the priest's violin, when he sat alone by the fireside with only the Past for a guest. And these combined influences lingered in the room, mellowed it, hallowed it, and made themselves felt to one and all as beneficent--even as now to Aileen. Father Honore placed two of the wooden chairs before the blazing fire. Aileen took one. "Draw up a little nearer, Aileen; you look chilled." He noticed her extreme pallor and the slight trembling of her shoulders. She glanced out of the window at some quarrymen who were passing. "You don't think we shall be interrupted, do you?" she asked rather nervously. "Oh, no. I'll just step to the kitchen and give a word to Therese. She is a good watchdog when I am not to be disturbed." He opened a door at the back of the room. "Therese." "On y va." An old French Canadian appeared in answer to his call. He addressed her in French. "If any one should knock, Therese, just step to the kitchen porch door and say that I am engaged for an hour, at least." "Oui, oui, Pere Honore." He closed the door. "There, now you can have your chat 'all to yourself' as you requested," he said smiling. He sat down in the other chair he had drawn to the fire. "I've been over to Maggie's this afternoon--" She hesitated; it was not easy to find an opening for her long pent trouble.