out, and never more than fifteen drops at a time. And do not let her
have any cold water to drink."

She saw them to the door, the bottle in her hand. Before getting
into the sleigh the cure took Maria aside and spoke a few words to
her. "Doctors do what they can," said he in a simple unaffected way,
"but only God Himself has knowledge of disease. Pray with all your
heart, and I shall say a mass for her to-morrow--a high mass with
music, you understand."

All day long Maria strove to stay the hidden advances of the
disorder with her prayers, and every time that she returned to the
bedside it was with a half hope that a miracle had been wrought,
that the sick woman would cease from her groaning, sleep for a few
hours and awake restored to health. It was not so to be; the moaning
ceased not, but toward evening it died away to sighing, continual
and profound--nature's protest against a burden too heavy to be
borne, or the slow inroad of death-dealing poison.

About midnight came Eutrope Gagnon, bringing Tit'Sebe the
bone-setter. He was a little, thin, sad-faced man with very kind
eyes. As always when called to a sick-bed, he wore his clothes of
ceremony, of dark wellworn cloth, which he bore with the awkwardness
of the peasant in Sunday attire. But the strong brown hands beyond
the thread-bare sleeves moved in a way to inspire confidence. They
passed over the limbs and body of Madame Chapdelaine with the most
delicate care, nor did they draw from her a single cry of pain;
thereafter he sat for a long time motionless beside the couch,
looking at her as though awaiting guidance from a source beyond
himself. But when at last he broke the silence it was to say: "Have