"Believe me, as ever,
"Your very sincere friend,
"Réné Bois-le-Duc,
"Curé of Father Point, Province of Quebec, Canada."

* * * * *

"Dear M. Bois-le-Duc," repeated Marie, "I am glad he thinks so well of
me. The approval of one true friend like that is worth more than all the
applause I get night after night at the opera. He knows me for myself;
they only recognize my art and the pleasure it affords them."

"Yes; you were always a first favorite with the curé," said Lacroix.

"How angry he is with Noël McAllister; needlessly so. _I_ have forgiven
him long ago."

"Have you, indeed? And have you heard about Lady Margaret?"

"Yes. Mr. McAllister did me the honor of calling on me the other day."

"Noël McAllister called on you, Marie?"

The old name slipped out accidentally, and, in his excitement, he did not
notice the mistake.

"Yes."

"And he told you about Lady Margaret, about his wife being dead?"