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 she sat down, and with the point of her parasol drew an intricate design in the soft earth of the path. When it was carefully finished she quickly obliterated it with her foot, and then repeated the drawing, enlarging the outline a little. It was still unsatisfactory, and this time the lines seemed shorter and less vigorous. A yellow dog of an ungenteel appearance now joined her, and after vainly trying to decipher the hieroglyphics Margaret was tracing, turned his attention to the basket, from which proceeded a savory odor. Recalled to herself by this impertinent and unwarrantable curiosity on the part of the yellow dog, Miss Ruysdale suddenly rose, and with a firm step and severe expression of countenance again approached the Hôtel-Dieu. This time she got as far as the gate, and with a trembling hand rang the bell. The door of the hall flew open and the guardian of the gate descended, alone this time, the visitor being of the female sex. "I want to see Sister Gabrielle," Margaret said, in a voice that would not be quite firm; "I have brought something for one of the patients."

"Enter, my child," said the sister kindly, "and I will find Sister Gabrielle for you."

In the long, severe waiting-room, with its religious engravings and library of the lives of the saints, Margaret Ruysdale, sculptor, the