"And what became of her then?" asked Guy, impatiently, unable to await the woman's pleasure to hear the happy sequel. "Well sir," continued she, "the young lady said she had neither money nor friends, and expressed a wish to retire to some place, where she could practice acts of gratitude to the Almighty, for having saved her from the threatened fate of madness. She did not tell us quite as plain as that what her intentions were, but we soon found out, so unless anything unusual happened, you will find her yet, cloistered voluntarily in the home of some pious ladies who dwell on the outskirts of the city. Anyone will drive you there; you are on the road now; it is far enough on the outskirts of the town, but a pleasant drive for all that, and sure, sir, I, for one, wish you the best of success in your undertaking." "Thank you, my good woman, a thousand times I thank you. You have lightened a great burden from my heart, and I will not forget it either," and as he showered his protestations of gratitude on the head of the gratified matron, he bowed himself out, and beat a hasty retreat back to his carriage. CHAPTER XXXIII. "Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman. Tho' they may gang a kennin' wrang, To step aside is human." --_Burns._ "Is it the little home on the hill?" said the half-indignant _calèche_ driver, "well, to be sure I know it as well as I do the nose on my face; step in sur, and: you'll soon see if I do or not." Jumping hastily up, Guy settled himself for, as he hoped, the last drive to the first part of the success he strove so hard to win. Quebec, as every tourist has acknowledged, is a "fine old place," and now that his heart was somewhat lighter, Guy allowed himself to realize, like the others, that he had indeed come to a "fine old place," and one whose memory threatened to cling around his heart for the remaining years of his life. Many thoughts filled his busy brain as he rattled along in his two-wheeled conveyance over the country roads, drinking in the freshness and beauty of his rural surroundings, and yielding gladly to the bracing currents of country air that swept past his troubled face, cooling and refreshing him considerably. By and by, growing a little curious about the nature of the place to which he had ordered this man to drive him, he leaned forward a little and asked the broad-faced Irishman, who was lilting a merry tune to himself as they jaunted along. "What sort of a place is this we are driving to, Pat." "Och, faith yer honor, mebbe 'tis dhrivin' to the divil we are, for all Pat knows. G'long there, Sally." "But I mean the convent, Pat, surely his devilship does not intrude there?"