The abbe was very sore at heart, and, never doubting but that the new mistress of the castle would be no friend of his, he took his way homeward.  In his imagination he saw this Madame Scott settled at the castle and despising his little Catholic church and all his simple services to the quiet village folk.

He was still brooding over the unhappy fate of Longueval when his godson, Jean Reynaud—­son of his old friend Dr. Reynaud—­to whom he had been as good as a father, and who was worthy of the old priest’s love, dismounted at his door.  For Jean was now a lieutenant in the artillery stationed in the district, and much of his leisure was spent at the abbe’s house.  Jean tried to console him by saying that even though this American, Madame Scott, were not a Catholic, she was known to be generous, and would no doubt give him money for the poor.

II.—­The New Parishioners

The abbe and his godson were in the garden next day, when they heard a carriage stop at the gate.  Two ladies alighted, dressed in simple travelling costumes.  They came into the garden, and the elder of the two, who seemed to be no more than twenty-five, came up to the Abbe Constantin saying, with only the slightest foreign accent, “I am obliged to introduce myself, M. le Cure.  I am Madame Scott, in whose name yesterday the castle and estate were bought, and if it is no inconvenience I should be glad to take five minutes of your time.”  Then, turning to her companion, she said, “This is my sister, Miss Bettina Percival, as you may have guessed.”

Greatly agitated, the abbe bowed his respects, and led into his little vicarage the new mistress of Longueval and her sister.  The cloth had been laid for the simple meal of the old priest and the lieutenant, and the ladies seemed charmed with the humble comfort of the place.

“Look now, Susie,” said Miss Bettina, “isn’t this just the sort of vicarage you hoped it would be?”

“And the abbe also, if he will allow me to say so,” said Madame Scott.  “For what did I say in the train this morning, Bettina, and only a little while ago in the carriage?”

“My sister said to me, M. le Cure,” said Miss Percival, “that she desired, above all things, that the abbe should not be young, nor melancholy, nor severe, but that he should be white-haired and gentle and good.”

“And that is you exactly, M. le Cure,” said Madame Scott brightly.  “I find you just as I had hoped, and I trust you may be as well pleased with your new parishioners.”

“Parishioners!” exclaimed the abbe.  “But then you are Catholics?”

“Certainly we are Catholics!” And noting the surprise of the old abbe, she went on to say, “Ah, I understand!  Our name and our country made you expect we should be Protestants and unfriendly to you and your people.  But our mother was a Canadian and a Catholic, of French origin, and that is why my sister and I speak French with just a little foreign accent.  My husband is a Protestant, but he leaves me full liberty, and so my two children are being educated in my own faith.  And that is why we have come to see you the first day we have arrived.”