‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. “I am too much in earnest,” he answered, “to be able to take this matter lightly. ” She said and began to pace the hard dirt.
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