has Satan himself taken hold on you, that you can so speak of a holy sister of the sainted Cross?"

'Mind your sieves, you old crow,' Olivier said savagely.

Jehan looked in wonder at his friend, and he pulled his arm to draw him farther from the gossips.

'Be quiet, Kergrist,'-Olivier looked still more angry. You will tear the braid off my sleeve with your violence. Go, if you want to go,' he threw his arm from him rudely. I am in no such haste to leave the market.'

Jehan looked surprised, then annoyed; but Marie's two companions began to giggle at the quarrel between the friends. Jehan bit his lip and walked across the market-place to a gabled house behind the cathedral.

As he passed in through the low round-headed doorway, the light streamed into the shop, and showed its dark oak-panelled walls and carved presses full of merchandise. An inner door facing the entrance stood open and revealed the massive staircase pillar with carved figures of saints guarding every landing, and a wealth of quaint masks and scrollwork between. The kitchen was screened off on the left from the staircase by a carved partition of black oak about ten feet high; the stone walls on each side, except at the staircase opening, went up without any intervening ceiling to the skylight above. Jehan went on hurriedly beyond staircase and kitchen to a small richly furnished room. He closed the door behind him, turned the quaintly-worked key in the massive lock, and then sat down before an old desk and rested his head on his hands.

'I did not know it,' he said sadly; and yet, now I think over the last few days, I might have known it-Olivier loves Françoise. What can I do? I would give my own life for him, and yet I cannot give up my hopes.'

He covered his face with his hands, but he soon looked up again, and there was a smile on his honest face; he was not nearly so handsome as Olivier-there was a heavy squareness about his features, but his eyes were dark and sweet.

'It must be so,' he said. 'I never saw him so moved; he is always so staid and discreet. But I have loved her all my life,' he went on. 'I know it now, and Olivier has only seen her by chance-two or three times in the market-place-he has not even spoken to her, and he is always taken up with the last new face.' He paused again, and a downcast look saddened his face. 'It may be that Françoise would like him best; girls are apt to like men who have had successes with women better than us simple fellows who only care for earnest honest love. But I will not be

faint-hearted.

Let us both try; we are each rich enough to marry, thanks to the thrift and skill of our parents, and Françoise shall choose for herself. After all, I can but remain single for her sake her happiness is the chief thing-sweet child.'

CHAPTER II.

GODFATHER PICARD.

THE abbess of the convent of Holy Cross had risen from her high-backed oak chair, and was moving towards the door of her room. She stopped and turned round.

'Good day, Monsieur Picard;' she bowed stiffly to her visitor. 'As you specially require it, I will send the child to you, though you might have trusted to me to find out her wishes, since you consider that her inclination is to be studied.'

The Abbess was a tall fine woman with a noble face, so pale that it scarcely seemed made of flesh and blood, but the smile that came with her words gave her a sarcastic, almost a cruel, expression. Jean Picard's broad red face grew crimson, and his heavy brows met in a frown.

"Undoubtedly I do, Madame,' he said sternly. I married for love myself, and I never repented my act. Why shouldn't this poor little girl-as good as a child to me-have the same luck?'

'Luck is a false word, sir'-her smile grew pitying luck has nothing to do with the children of Holy Church. Good morning, Monsieur Picard.'

She went out of the room, her thick woollen robes filling up the doorway as she passed through. As soon as the door shut behind her, Monsieur gave a sigh of relief and sat down in the Abbess's chair.

'She's a good woman, that I doubt not; but she has an eye to business,' he said crossly. She's not the saint Françoise makes her out to be. She knows as well as I do that Olivier Logonna is a richer man now, and likely to be in the future a much richer man than Jehan Kergrist, and she foresees that there will be more to be made for the convent out of Madame Logonna than out of Madame Kergrist; and, maybe, Olivier's handsome face and smooth tongue have had their way. Did she let him see Françoise, I wonder? Surely she would not venture without my permission.' The door opened, and in came Françoise Nevez; such a contrast with her bright face and golden hair to the pale, black-robed nun who had just left the room, that even to the prosaic old merchant, Jean Picard, it seemed as if sunshine had come into the room with his ward.

She ran up to him, kissed him on both cheeks before he could rise to greet her, and then put both her hands on his shoulders.

'What mischief is brewing, my dear godfather?-two visitors in one day is quite an event for Holy Cross, I can tell you; and you are the second gentleman who has come to see our Mother this afternoon,'

Jean Picard grunted and looked very cross. 'Ah!' he said, 'who was the other?' Françoise smiled and blushed.

It was Monsieur Olivier Logonna.'

6

And what do you know about Logonna?' Picard spoke roughly. You have never seen him at my house. What is he like, child?'

'Oh, I have seen him several times at market and in church, and to-day, when I was in the garden watering my flowers, our Mother passed by and presented Monsieur Logonna to me.'

Picard grew red and angry.

'Well, and what do you think of him?'

The girl thought her guardian was jealous and tyrannical, and she felt inclined to tease.

'I thought a great many things,' and she looked down demurely on the floor.

'Confound all women!' but Picard said this to himself-he looked awkwardly at his ward, and plunged his broad hand in among his hair.

'Do you want him for a husband?' he spoke so crossly that Françoise started.

I never said so.' Tears sprang in her eyes. 'Why are you angry with me, godfather? may I not speak to anyone besides you?' She had seated herself beside him on a low wooden stool, and as she spoke she stroked the back of his hand as it lay in his lap.

Jean Picard looked wistfully round the room, as if he expected some of the figures in the pictures that decorated the walls-a dark series representing the Triumphs of the Cross-to come down and tell him how to manage his ward. Jehan Kergrist had come to him that morning to propose for Françoise Nevez, and it had seemed such easy work to say Yes, if Françoise were willing; and now, instead of being able to plead for his young friend, he found that Olivier Logonna had been before him, both with the Abbess and with Françoise.

6

'Jehan has been a fool,' he muttered; why did he delay? such a girl as Françoise cannot be hidden away-did he think no one had eyes but himself?'

'Come, come, godfather,'-the girl spoke half coaxingly, half pettishly, why may I not speak to Monsieur Logonna?'

Jean looked down at her for a minute, and then he laid his hand on her golden head.

"You have not answered my question, little one. When you have done that, I will tell you what I think of Olivier Logonna.' 'It is not a reasonable question, godfather,' she pouted-then she looked winningly in his face. How can I want a husband when I have you for a father?'

Picard brightened with pleasure; he bent down and kissed her fair forehead.

Yes, my child, you must have a husband to take care of you, and if you wish for this Logonna you shall have him. He says he loves you, he has told the Abbess he does, and God forbid that I, of all men, should cross true love, even if it crosses my own wish. I had other hopes, but never mind them now.'

Françoise flushed deeply and looked down. Picard sighed; it seemed to him that this was her answer. She had chosen Olivier Logonna-what, need to trouble her tender heart with the tale of Jehan Kergrist's love?

He stroked her soft hair gently.

"Then it is settled, my little girl;' he spoke gently.

I will tell Logonna that you will listen to him, and you must come home for the wooing.'

He felt the head twitch away from his fingers, and Françoise rose up quickly.

'Oh godfather, what do you mean-why do we go on teasing one another? Monsieur Logonna looked pleasant, and he spoke to me, but I could never marry him-never,' she cried with emphasis.

Jean Picard looked helplessly at the pictures again. What did Françoise mean? was there any hope for Jehan, or should he, by speaking of his young friend's love, ruin his hopes?

'If Marie had given me any daughters,' he thought, his face getting more and more perplexed, 'I should then have learned how to deal with Françoise. How am I to find out what this wayward child means?'

Françoise had stood silently watching his face; she was timid as well as impulsive, and it seemed to her that her frankness had vexed her kind godfather.

She looked down at her pretty feet, and twisted her fingers together.

'Papa Picard!' He looked up and the perplexity cleared away. Ever since Françoise had been a toddling rosy child of three years

old, she had called him Papa Picard; and now it seemed to honest, troubled Jean, that the reserve which her four years of convent life had brought into their intercourse had suddenly melted; she was again his merry mischievous Françoise, the child he was bound to advise and protect, and who was to inherit his large fortune. 'Yes, yes, my little one;' he rose up, put a hand on each of her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. What does my Françoise want

of her old father?

She blushed and hung her head. 'Do you then wish me to marry Monsieur Logonna, godfather?'

Then she looked up and saw the perplexity come back into his eyes and on his lips, and she suddenly burst out laughing. Papa Picard, you want me to marry some one else,' she said. 'Who is it?' Jean Picard took his hand from her shoulder, pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped his hot face.

6

'The Holy Virgin be praised,' he said; my child shall not marry anyone she cannot love with her whole heart!' He stopped, then he hurried on: If she can love Jehan Kergrist, Papa Picard would like her to marry him.'

Françoise turned away quickly, and Picard thought she was vexed again; she went up to the window and began tapping the small diamond panes with her fingers, while she gazed at some tall white lilies growing in one of the square flower plots of the convent garden.

Picard waited-but at last he grew impatient.

'I must be going, child;' she turned round, and he saw that her cheeks were glowing, and her eyes had a sweet suffused look that was very like happiness. Come, come, this will do!' he muttered, 'you are getting on, Jean; you begin to understand young girls!' then with a twinkle in his eyes, I am then to say No to Monsieur Logonna, and No also to Jehan-is it so, my child?'

Françoise screwed her lips together. Suppose,' she looked up brightly in his face, 'you only do one message, Papa Picard; I want to be so sure that Monsieur Kergrist is in earnest―that— that he had better ask me himself.'

CHAPTER III.

A TEMPTATION.

FOUR years have passed since Jehan Kergrist wedded fair Françoise Nevez in the cathedral of St. Corentin. It had been a gay marriage, and the young couple had had the good will and hearty prayers of most Quimper folk. Jehan had not hitherto had