At length night fell; the outer door of the house was carefully locked; Father Bonneville retired to his own sleeping-room; I assisted Jeanette to bring down a pair of somewhat heavy saddle-bags, the one marked with black paint L. L., the other J. C. Shortly after I heard a step upon the stairs, and a gentleman entered the room, whom I did not at first recognize—and could hardly, for some time, persuade myself that it was Father Bonneville. Soutane and bands, and small black cap, and cocked-hat were all gone, and he appeared in a straight-cut black coat, with a small sword by his side. His thin, white hair, powdered and tied behind, and a round hat, with a broad band and buckle, on his head. The effect of this change in costume was to make him look very much smaller than before. He had seemed a somewhat portly man in his robes, but now he looked exceedingly lank and spare, and even his height seemed diminished. He looked strange and ill at ease, but showed no indecision, now that his mind was made up. “I thought of burning my papers,” he said, speaking to Jeanette, “but I don’t know, ma bonne, that they contain any thing unworthy of a good Christian or a good citizen. I shall therefore leave them as they are, to be examined by those who may take the trouble. You understand all, Jeanette, that I have said, and what you are to do, and where I am to hear from you.” Jeanette comprehended every thing; but the feelings of the good creature’s heart were at this time surging up against her understanding with greater and greater force every minute. At length, when all was ready for our departure, she fell upon her knees at good Father Bonneville’s feet, weeping and kissing his hand, and begging his blessing. The old man put his hand upon her head, and with an air of solemn affection, called down the blessing of God upon her. Then embracing her kindly, he said, “You have striven, I know, Jeanette, to be as good a servant to God as to a mere mortal master. He deserves more and better service than any of us can give, but he is contented with less than any of us require, if it be rendered with a whole heart. Farewell, my Jeanette—farewell for the present! We shall meet again soon—I trust—I believe.”