“How do you feel, Mr. Lacroix, to-day, after all your triumphs yesterday?  You received quite an ovation at the reception.”

“Oh, I feel very well, indeed, thank you; this fresh country air puts new life into one.  You were wise, mademoiselle, to choose your home in such a spot.”

“Yes, I think I did well, though the place has its drawbacks.  It is a long way from London and the opera.  Still, I could not bear to live quite in town; the air there stifles me.  After the clear bracing air of Canada, I find London very oppressive.  But, M. Lacroix, you must be tired after your long walk up the hill.  Do take that comfortable arm-chair and let me give you a cup of tea.”

“Yes, gladly; tea is one of my weaknesses.  Oh! how I missed it in Paris.  It is almost impossible to get a good cup of tea there.”

“I always make mine myself, and have it regularly at five o’clock, and, even now, I still keep the fire lighted here, for the evenings are apt to be chilly, and I have to take care of my throat.  That is my fortune, you know.”

“Yes, it is indeed, mademoiselle.  How strange that all three of the cure’s pupils should have succeeded so well in life, and all so far from their own land.”

“It is indeed strange.  That thought has often occurred to me, too,” said Marie, musingly.

“But,” went on Lacroix, “though, of course, I like London and Paris and all this excitement for a time, I often pine for our fresh Canadian breezes, for the dash of the Gulf against the rocks at Father Point!  City life is so trammelled, and I long for the unconventional home life from which I have been removed so long.”

“Ah!  I see you have mal de pays; you see I know the symptoms,” said Marie, smiling.

“Yes, I suppose it must be that.”

“But how delighted you must be at the success of your picture.  I saw by this morning’s paper that it was bought by the prince.”

“Of course, I am glad of my success.  True, it has come late in life; but still it has come.  But I shall miss my picture very much.”

“Naturally.”

“However, I shall soon see the reality again.  I am going home for a holiday next month.”

“Indeed?  How I envy you.”

“Yes, I am really going, and I am counting the days until it is time to sail.  But, mademoiselle, I am forgetting to show you M. Bois-le-Duc’s letter.  I have it with me; shall I leave it here?”

“No, M. Lacroix.  I am very lazy this afternoon, and if you would read it to me while I just sit in this comfortable arm-chair and do nothing but listen, I should enjoy that above all things.”

“Certainly, mademoiselle; nothing would please me better.  I imagine your days of laziness, as you call it, are few and far between.  Now, I will begin.  The letter is dated Father Point, April 20th, 1887:—­

  “My Dear Eugene,

  “I was very pleased to receive your last letter, and more than pleased
   to hear of your success; but the news that delighted me most of all
   was to hear that you were coming here this summer.