Secretly he was very much embarrassed at the prospect of taking care of a
little girl, but family pride, and the fact that such a very little girl,
who was also such a very great heiress, _must_ be taken care of sustained
him. But when he first saw Elizabeth he could not restrain an exclamation
of consternation.

[Illustration: It was Aunt Clotilde, who had sunk forward while kneeling
at prayer.]

She entered the room, when she was sent for, clad in a strange little
nun-like robe of black serge, made as like her-dead aunt's as possible.
At her small waist were the rosary and crucifix, and in her hand she held
a missal she had forgotten in her agitation to lay down--

"But, my dear child," exclaimed Uncle Bertrand, staring at her aghast.

He managed to recover himself very quickly, and was, in his way, very
kind to her; but the first thing he did was to send to Paris for a
fashionable maid and fashionable mourning.

"Because, as you will see," he remarked to Alice, "we cannot travel as we
are. It is a costume for a convent or the stage."

Before she took off her little conventual robe, Elizabeth went to the
village to visit all her poor. The _curé_ went with her and shed tears
himself when the people wept and kissed her little hand. When the child
returned, she went into the chapel and remained there for a long time.

She felt as if she was living in a dream when all the old life was left
behind and she found herself in the big luxurious house in the gay New