"Here is your work," he said, smiling. "You have your education and sympathy on the one hand, and on the other are these little black and brown heads--Bergerons, Tremblays, Gauthiers, and so on--to be filled with some measure of the grace which God intended for each of them. It will be a comfort to me to think of them in your hands while I am sent on my Master's business, often into paths not of my own choosing. Do not on any account be tempted to leave here until I come or send for you. Even if M. de Sarennes should appear, be under no apprehension, for all you need do is to tell Mme. Dufour, and it will be a delight to her to balk his plans, as there is no love lost between these Islanders and the people of the main-land." "I will do my best, mon pere. When may I look for your return?" "I cannot tell, perhaps in a month or so; but do not let that disturb you; for, even if I am prevented, I will surely send you word what to do. Seek your quiet in your daily task, and your comfort in prayer." So he took his way, leaving me in such content as was possible. Had I dared I would have questioned him about the letter, but I could not bring myself to acknowledge this humiliation, even to him. I felt it so keenly, that I no longer wondered my tormentor had felt himself free to make any proposal, when it was but to one whom he believed to be the discarded wife of another, and I found a new misery in vain imaginings of what had been written to call forth so heartless a reply. I would comfort myself at one moment by thinking it was not intended for me, only to be met by the alternative of Hugh being married to another. Turn which way I might, I could frame no explanation which brought any comfort. If the letter were for me, then had no man ever betrayed love more cruelly; if for another, then I had thrown away my life. My work with the children was the greatest boon which could have been granted me; it kept me sane and healthy, and my heart went out to the little ignorant souls so full of life and affection. It was no task; it was a welcome labour of love; and the children saw and felt it as such; on their side, their little feet were never too weary nor their little hands too tired to respond to any service I might ask of them. But despite their love and the unfailing kindness of Mme. Dufour, it was impossible to escape from my pain. My daily refuge was the altar of the little church, where night and morn, often in company of some other lonely woman anxious for the safety of son or husband far at sea, I laid bare my soul in an agony of supplication for the safety of the one dear to me above all others; and I found support, too, in the thought of the devoted priest pursuing his lonely way, consecrating his life and effort for others, most of whom made no return, for they knew not the greatness of his sacrifice.