shed none. Now they came without asking, like a benediction refreshing
my eyes. Just then I felt a soft pressure upon my shoulder, and there
was Agnès coming close, putting her shoulder to mine, as was her way,
that we might support each other.

'You weep, ma mère,' she said.

'I think it is one of the angels Mère Julie has seen,' said I. 'It is a
refreshment--a blessing; my eyes were dry with weariness.'

'Mother,' said Madame Martin, 'do you think it is angels with wings
like peacocks and jewelled collars that our Father sends to us? Ah, not
so--one of those whom we love has touched your dear eyes,' and with that
she kissed me upon my eyes, taking me in her arms. My heart is sometimes
hard to my son's wife, but not always--not with my will, God knows! Her
kiss was soft as the touch of any angel could be.

'God bless thee, my child,' I said.

'Thanks, thanks, ma mère!' she cried. 'Now I am resolved; now will I go
and speak to Martin--of something in my heart.'

'What will you do, my child?' I said, for as the light increased I could
see the meaning in her face, and that it was wrought up for some great
thing. 'Beware, Agnès; risk not my son's happiness by risking thyself;
thou art more to Martin than all the world beside.'

'He loves thee dearly, mother,' she said. My heart was comforted. I was
able to remember that I too had had my day. 'He loves his mother, thank
God, but not as he loves thee. Beware, _ma fille_. If you risk my son's