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Rh “I had prayed for her, and talked with her. I thought I had seen grace in her. Well, I know not. It is true that she acted as her mother bade her. But I fear all is not well.”

“I pray you to speak plainly. Where is she?”

“I do not know where she is. What I know, sir, you shall know, for I believe you come in honesty. This morning—some two hours ago—a carriage drove from the town here. Mme. Delhasse was in it, and with her the Duke of Saint-Maclou. I could not refuse to let the woman see her daughter. They spoke together for a time; and then they called me, and Marie—yes, Marie herself—begged me to let her see the duke. So they came here where we stand, and I stood a few yards off. They talked earnestly in low tones. And at last Marie came to me (the others remaining where they were), and took my hand and kissed it, thanking me and bidding me adieu. I was grieved, sir, for I trusted that the girl had found peace here; and she was in the way to make us love her. ‘Does your mother bid you go?’ I asked, ‘And will she save you from all harm?’ And she answered: ‘I go of my own will, Mother; but I go hoping to return.’ ‘You swear that you go of your own will?’ I asked. ‘Yes, of my own will,’ she said firmly; but she was near to weeping as she spoke. Yet what could I do? I could but tell her that our door—God’s door—was never shut. That I told her; and with a heavy heart, being able to do nothing else, I let her go. I pray God no