Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. “My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. But what are you doing here?” “Old Père Runeval met me on your doorstep, and he would not let me go. He seemed resigned but cheerful, and held frequent and serious discourses with the ordinary, who felt satisfied of his sincere penitence. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket.
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