to pay back Luc's money. It was very slow, and I worked hard. Will it
never be finished, I say. At last Parpon find me, and I tell him all--
all except that John Dicey was dead; and I did not know that. I made him
promise to tell nobody; but he knows all about my life since then. Then
I find out one day that John Dicey is dead, and I get from the gover'ment
a hundred dollars of the money he stole. It was found on him when he was
killed. I work for six months longer, and now I come back--with Luc's
money."

She drew from her pocket a packet of notes, and put it in Luc's hands.
He took it dazedly, then dropped it, and the Little Chemist picked it up;
he had no prescription like that in his pharmacopoeia.

"That's how I've lived," she said, and she handed a letter to the Cure.

It was from a priest in Montreal, setting forth the history of her career
in that city, her repentance for her elopement and the sin of marrying a
Protestant, and her good life. She had wished to do her penance in
Pontiac, and it remained to M'sieu' le Cure; to set it.

The Cure's face relaxed, and a rare gentleness came into it.

He read the letter aloud. Luc once more struggled to his feet, eagerly
listening.

"You did not love Luc?" the Cure asked Junie, meaningly.

"I did not love Luc--then," she answered, a flush going over her face.

"You loved Junie?" the Cure said to Pomfrette. "I could have killed