The patient was in evident thanksgiving. Daylight had just begun to glimmer in. Claire’s face shone with the passionate white triumph which religious ascetics of that day looked forward to as the crowning result of their vigils. Flushed with reactionary hope, she rose to her feet as if the pavement had left no stiffness in her muscles, and met the nun. “St. Joseph and all the Holy Family give you peace, mademoiselle.” “Peace hath been granted me, Sister. My prayer is answered.” “Great is the power of the Holy Family. But after your long vigil you will need this strengthening broth which I have made for you.” “Sister, you are kind. Let me take it to your refectory. I know the place. And may this young girl attend me?” “I will carry it myself, mademoiselle,” said Sister Judith, “to our rude parlor, if you will follow me up the stairs. The refectory is somewhat chilly, and in the parlor we have a fire kindled. And you may bathe your face and hands before eating your soup.” Up a stairway Claire groped behind the nun, and came into a barn-like huge room, scant of comforts except an open fire, which Jouaneaux had but finished preparing entirely for her. The cells of the nuns were built along one side of this room, and from the cells they now emerged going devoutly to matins. “Touching the half-breed girl of whom you spoke,” said Sister Brésoles, lingering to put a basin of water and coarse clean towel within reach of her guest, “she shall come to you as soon as she hath finished her morning devotions. Her father is chief of the Hurons, and hath placed her here as a novice. We have many girls come,” added Sister Brésoles with a light sigh, “but few remain to bear the hardships of life in a frontier convent.” “Girls are ungrateful creatures,” said Claire, “bent on their own purposes, and greedy of what to them seems happiness. I am myself so. And if I do or say what must offend you, forgive me, Sister.” She unfastened her necklace and held it up--a slender rope braided of three strings of seed pearls and fastened by a ruby. “This is a red sapphire, Sister, and has been more than a hundred years in the house of--” She suppressed “Laval-Montmorency,” and pressed her necklace upon the nun’s refusing palm. “Why do you offer me this, mademoiselle?” “Because from this day gems and I part company forever. That is the only hereditary ornament I brought with me into New France. Enrich some shrine with it if you have no need to turn it into money for your convent.” “Our convent is very poor, mademoiselle,” replied Sister Brésoles, divided between acceptance and refusal. “But we want no rich gifts from those who make their retirement with us. Also, the commandant, your brother, left with us more value than our poor hospitality can return to you.” “Yet be intreated, Sister,” urged Claire. “I want it to be well placed, but no more about my throat.”