We separated, to prepare for supper. I dressed myself in my very best, to do honor to my cousin's arrival, though I was quite conscious, when I looked into my little mirror, that I did not look nearly so well in my fine damask gown and lace cap as I did in the gray-blue homespun which was my ordinary morning wear. Grace would sit up in bed to arrange my cap and lace my stays herself, and she drew them so tight. I could hardly breathe. The next morning I was sent down to Father Simon's cottage with a weighty message—no less important than this: that there would be a celebration of the Holy Supper, as we always called it, that very night, in the vaults under the lonely grange, which stood in a hollow of our domain. Simon was to send word to certain of the faithful at Sartilly and Granville. Andrew, who had already as it were taken possession of me, would go with me, and though Mrs. Grace demurred at such a freedom, he had his way. He always has had a great knack of getting his own way, partly, I think, because he goes on that way so quietly, without ever contradicting any one. I did not go by the lane this time, but through the orchard, over the heathy knoll, where my father and myself had had such an important conversation, and down the little ravine which the stream had made in its passage to the sea. It was a somewhat scrambling walk, and I liked it all the better for that. My ostensible errand was a search for fresh eggs, so I carried my little straw basket on my arm. I had a password in which to communicate my errand, and, meeting one of the old men who was to be summoned, I used it. "Jean Martin, my father bids me ask you if the old grange will do to store the apples in?" The old man's face lighted up, and he took off his hat. "When should they be stored, mademoiselle?" he asked. "To-morrow at high noon," was the answer. "It is as safe a place as any. Thank your honored father and yourself. I will be there." "What does that mean?" asked Andrew, as we went on. "Why should that old fellow be so wonderfully pleased at being asked about a place to store the apples?" "Hush!" said I, speaking English, which I now did quite perfectly. "You must learn not to talk so loud." "I am like to lose the use of my tongue altogether, if I stay long in this country," said he discontentedly. "Well, cousin, I will squeak like a rere-mouse, if that will content you. But what does it mean?" I explained the matter, taking care to speak in English, and in a low tone. "So that was it," said he, in a tone of wonder mixed with compassion. "And will the old man really leave his bed at midnight, and risk not only the rheumatism but his life, on such an errand as that?" "Yes, indeed, and his wife also, though she is very infirm," said I. "We of the Religion are used to such risks." "I wonder what one of the farmers in our parish at Tre Madoc would say to such an invitation?" was Andrew's comment. "But what if you should be discovered?"