"A great heiress!" said Mimi, sadly. "I don't know what put that into your head. Unfortunately, as far as I know, I have nothing. My papa sold all his estates, and had all his money on board the Arethuse. It was all lost in the ship, and though I was an heiress when I left home, I shall go back nothing better than a beggar, to beg a home from my unknown aunt. Or," she continued, "if my aunt shows no affection, it is my intention to go back to the convent of St. Cecilia, where I was educated, and I know they will be glad to have me; and I could not find a better home for the rest of my life than among those dear sisters who love me so well." "O, Mimi," he cried, "O, what joy it is to hear that you are a beggar! Mimi, Mimi! I have always felt that you were far above me--too far for me to raise my thoughts to you. Mimi, you are a beggar, and not an heiress! You must not go to France. I will not go. Let us remain together. I can be more to you than any friend. Come with me. Be mine. O, let me spend my life in trying to show you how I love you!" He spoke these words quickly, feverishly, and passionately, seizing her hand in both of his. He had never called her before by her name; but now he called her by it over and over, with loving intonations. Mimi had hardly been prepared for this; but though unprepared, she was not offended. On the contrary, she looked up at him with a face that told him more than words could convey. He could not help reading its eloquent meaning. Her glance penetrated to his heart--her soul spoke to his. He caught her in his arms, and little Mimi leaned her head on his breast and wept. But from this dream of hope and happiness they were destined to have a sudden and very rude awakening. There was a sound in the shrubbery behind them, and a voice said, in a low, cautious tone,-- "H-s-s-t!" At this they both started, and turned. It was the Père Michel. Both started as they saw him, partly from surprise, and partly, also, from the shock which they felt at the expression of his face. He was pale and agitated, and the calmness and self-control which usually characterized him had departed. "My dear friend," said Claude, hurriedly, turning towards him and seizing his hand, "what is the matter? Are you not well? Has anything happened? You are agitated. What is the matter?" "The very worst," said Père Michel--"M. de Cazeneau!" "What of him? Why, he is dead!" "Dead? No; he is alive. Worse--he is here--here--in Louisbourg. I have just seen him!" "What!" cried Claude, starting back, "M. de Cazeneau alive, and here in Louisbourg! How is that possible?" "I don't know," said the priest. "I only know this, that I have just seen him!" "Seen him?" "Yes." "Where? You must be mistaken."