I hadn't understanding before, Mary.

I meant no unkindness to you." Abby laughed softly.

"Jacques De Arthenay, come here!" she said.
"What do you suppose Maree's thinking of fiddles now?
Come here, man alive, and see your boy!" But Marie laid one hand softly on the violin, as it lay on the bed beside her,--the hand that was not patting the baby; then she laid it, still softly, shyly, on her husband's head as he knelt beside her.
"Jacques, mon ami," she whispered, "you are good! I too have learned.
I was a child always, I knew nothing.

See now, I love always Madame, my friend, and she is mine; but this, this is yours too, and mine too, our life, our own.

Jacques, now we both know, and God, He tell us! See, the same God, only we did not know the first times.