We are so clever in our nation, and all the young vitality in us is so splendid, when it is directed and does not turn to nerves and fads.

I am growing so much _finer_, my dear, under his guidance.

You will know me when we meet--because each day I grow more to understand.
The Pere Anselme had only one moment of doubt again, just the last morning before his Dame d'Heronac left for Paris when October had come.
It was raining hard, and he found her in the great sitting-room with a legal-looking document in her hand.

Her face was very pale, and lying on the writing-table beside her was an envelope directed and stamped.
It contained her refusal to return to her husband signed and sealed.
The old priest did not ask her any questions; he guessed, and sympathized.
But his lady was too restless to begin their reading, and stole from window to window looking out on the gray sea.
"I shall come here for six months in the year just as always, Father," she said at last.

"I can never sever myself from Heronac." "God forbid," exclaimed the priest, aghast.