He found telegraph forms on his writing-table and rapidly wrote out his message. "Come immediately by first train, meet me at house of Pere Anselme, a matter of gravest importance to you and Sabine," and he signed it "Fordyce." Then he firmly controlled himself and went off with it into the night. The cold air struck his face and confronted him with its fierceness; the wind was getting up; to-morrow the waves would again be rough. The village was not far away, and he soon had reached his goal and sent the telegram. Then he stopped at the _presbytere_. He must speak once more to the priest. The Pere Anselme led him in to his bare little parlor and drew him to the warm china stove. It was only two hours since they had parted, but Lord Fordyce looked like an old man. "I have come to tell you, my Father," he said, "that I know all of the story now, and it is terrible enough; but I want you to help me to secure her happiness. Michael Arranstoun is her husband, as you supposed, and she loves him." The old priest nodded his head comprehendingly, and Henry went on. "They only parted to save me pain. It was a tremendous sacrifice which, of course, I cannot accept. So now I have sent for him, and I want you to let me meet him here at your house, and explain everything to him to-morrow before he sees her. I hope, if he gets my telegram in time, he will catch the train from Paris at midnight to-night; it gets in about nine in the morning. Then they can be happy on Christmas Day." "You have done nobly, my son," and the Pere Anselme lifted his hand in blessing. "It is very merciful that this has been in time. You will not be permitted to suffer beyond your strength since you have done well. The good God is beyond all things, just. My home is at your service--And how is she, our dear Dame d'Heronac? Does she know that her husband will come?" "She knows nothing. I told her we should settle all questions to-morrow. She offered to keep her word to me, the dear child." "And she told you the whole story? She had the courage? Yes? That was fine of her, because she has never spoken of all her sorrows directly, even to me." "She told me everything, Father. There are no secrets any more; and her story is a pitiful one, because she was so young."