"Hearken! there sounds the organ for the recessional!" she continued. "Soon the people will be coming out. I will sing the same songs that my sister Henriette and I used to sing. Perhaps some one will recognize the melody, and lead me back to her!" A beautifully majestic, ermined figure stepped graciously out of the church, as La Frochard rejoined Louise and began whining: "Charity! In the name of God, Charity!" whilst the girl's voice lifted up in an old plaintive melody. The lady was the Countess de Linieres, returning from her devotions. The song evoked memories of a bitter past and of a long lost daughter snatched from her in infancy. Bending over poor Louise, she asked: "My child, can you not see me?" "No, Madame, I am blind," was the low, sad answer. [Illustration: MARQUIS DE PRAILLE PLYING HIS ART WITH THE LADIES.] A strange sympathy stirred in the Countess for this girl. There seemed to be some hidden link between them, the nature of which baffled her. She felt the impulse to protect and cherish--was it the voice of Mother Love obscurely speaking? "Alas!" said Louise. "Blindness is not the worst of my misfortunes. I--I--" La Frochard administered a terrible pinch that pulled Louise away, then "mothered" her cutely. "We are starving, my beautiful lady," she whined, "and the poor girl is out of her head. What is that you say? _Not my daughter?_ Yes, indeed she is--the precious--and the youngest of seven. Charity, charity! In the name of God, charity!" she sniffled. Reluctantly Countess de Linieres stifled the impulse to mother this kindred and hapless young being, averred to be the beggar's daughter. She placed a golden louis on the palm of the singer, saying: "Give this to your mother, child." CHAPTER XII LOVE, MASTER OF HEARTS The Count's demands brought to a head a resolve that had taken possession of Chevalier de Vaudrey's heart and soul. Always the picture of the sweet Norman girl he had saved from de Praille's foul clutches was in his waking thoughts, of nights he dreamed a blessed romance! He recked not of the Count's displeasure, sorrowed that he must displease his Aunt as sorely. The only bar was that a vision of the lost Louise stood, as it were, between him and his beloved Henriette. Now that he had come to her to speak of his proposal, the little heart still quested for the lost sister. "Don't you ever think of anyone but her?" he asked. A negative shake of the golden head and ringleted curls was the answer, though the cupid mouth and the blue eyes smiled with tenderness. They stood very close to another, like poles of a magnet twixt which a spark flashes. Silently Maurice drew from his pocket a ring. 'Twas of pure gold, a lovely and exquisite bauble, whereof the two little claws clasped a golden heart. He handed it to Henriette, who took it with a happy smile till she realized its meaning as betrothal.