Whatever this evening cost her, however, it was little compared to the effort she had to make in paying a farewell visit to Madame Barbarin. With what altered steps she proceeded to her home and how long the way seemed; how heavy the atmosphere, and what pain she felt in her heart, as she entered the sick woman's room. Madame Barbarin rose in her bed, threw off the quilt which Victor had presented to her, and held out her arms to Nelly, who at once flew to her and was grasped in a tight embrace. Then letting her go, and surveying her with a look of adoration, the old woman said: "Yes, I always prophecy, I knew you would come to bring me the news of your marriage."

"Not the news of my marriage," replied Miss Reynolds, "only to tell you I am going away to Fontainebleau."

Going away to Fontainebleau? Ah! Then he too is going." "No; he (for I know you mean Victor Huguenay) is going to be married to Mademoiselle Sophie de la Roche."

The old Frenchwoman uttered a piercing shriek. It was impossible it could not be. She was certain that he loved Miss Reynolds, and if he married another she would rise from her bed, ill as she was, and make her way to the church to proclaim the truth. Oh! Well she knew the La Roche tribe, the worst and the proudest of the Faubourg St. Germain. Such as they, it was, who made Communists, and reigns of terror, and such as they were a disgrace to the world God had made.

Her speech was rapid and shrill, but not devoid of a rough eloquence. After denouncing the whole race of De la Roche she fell sharply upon Huguenay. She called him vacillating, stupid, insane, treacherous.

Nelly took her hand and entreated her to be calm, saying: "I assure you he has not been treacherous; for he never tried to win my affection."

"You are lying," said the old woman, "and I know you love him.' "Listen," said Nelly, gathering up her strength and speaking in determined tones. "If you wish to be good to me, be silent."

Madame Barbarin by this time had no choice. The delirium of her weakness had exhausted her, and she fell back on her pillow.

Nelly kissed her hot brow and left her, recommending her, as she went out, to the special attentiou of her daughter-in-law, and saying that she thought her seriously ill.

Jeanne, the daughter, replied that she had been thus, off and on, all the morning, and that the fever was brought on by Huguenay's intended marriage, which Antoine had reported to her. She hated old Madame de la Roche. She wouldn't believe what the boy said. She had been fighting against it and made herself ill. She was

a woman of fierce passions and had urged her son to acts of violence in the time of the Commune; she would have everything just her

own way.

"Send Antoine to me to-morrow morning," said Nelly, "with news of his grandmother."

With these words she hurried out of those low, stifling rooms. When she got into the street she breathed more freely, but her head ached so that she could hardly see the way before her, and but for the assistance of her good old servant she might have fallen. She insisted, however, upon walking home; exertion seemed to her a necessity, for when she was quiet she felt the pain at her heart.

The news that Antoine brought the next morning was the death of his grandmother. A fit of delirium, during which she talked much of M. Victor and Miss Reynolds, had been followed by an exhaustion which was her end. Would Miss Reynolds forgive her for the things she had said?

"Yes," replied Nelly; "but never repeat them, and above all beware of disturbing your master's happiness with the ravings of fever." 'My grandmother," said Antoine, "wished us to give you the picture of 'The Angel's Visit.'"

"I cannot accept it," replied Nelly. "It is a work of value, and when you, Antoine, grow to be a man and marry some pretty girl, that picture, if you choose to sell it, will be a dowry for your wife."

"If ever I marry," said the boy, fixing his eyes on Nelly's face, "I should like my wife to be exactly like you."

Miss Reynolds smiled, and stroking his hair said: "You are wasting your time here, my child. Go to your master and tell him of your grandmother's death. Say that I was with her yesterday, and say no more."

A complication of many feelings stirred Nelly's tenderness, and her voice shook.

The little French boy understood her emotion and said: "You loved my grandmother and so did I.”

"Yes," said Nelly, "I loved her, and I will tell you why. You may hear her called fierce and imperious perhaps, and this may be true; but remember it is also true that her hot blood created ardent affections-that she adored her husband and worked with him and for him; that during his long illness she laboured all day and watched all night; that after his death she was the sole support of your father until he, in his turn, could help her. In the fatal year of the siege, if she became vindictive it was from a passionate fear for those she loved: it was the sight of you and your sister shivering and famishing that drove her beside herself. She had

a heart with an immense capacity for love, and an intelligence that only wanted the support of education to rise to almost any height. The faults of such a nature are to be respected. Never be led to speak a word against her, my boy."

"I never will," said Antoine.

"That is right. God bless you, my child.”

Miss Reynolds gave the boy a parting kiss, and after he was gone, the preparations for Fontainebleau began. Lord Helicon was absent; Delorme was banished; Huguenay must be avoided-it was well to leave Paris.

Nowhere could a place be found better fitted than Fontainebleau to soothe and to charm, and it was after a fortnight's residence there that Lady Reynolds wrote her promised letter to Lord Helicon, which perhaps more effectively than narrative from any other hand will convey to the reader the changes of time.

Hôtel de France, Fontainebleau, June 14th.

I hope you will not think me too dilatory, my dear Lord Helicon, in fulfilling my promise, but I had little heart for writing when first we came here. My Nelly, so lovely, so dear, to have loved in vain. I really could not bear it, and being as you know an unreasonable woman, I thought I could have endured it better if she had shown more despondency; her appearance of vivacity while I knew her to be suffering almost killed me. Your suggestion, however, of a renewal of my intimacy with the family of Chaulieu, has proved most useful. The general, my husband's friend, is little altered: the same square face and figure. You know he lost his left arm in that dreadful German war, but he bears the loss cheerfully (à la Française) and even makes fun sometimes of his empty sleeve. He is helped indeed to make fun of everything by the flow of spirits of his daughter Clotilde, of whom I must speak at some length because she is the support of my Nelly, I may almost say the cure. I send you a photograph of her, but no photograph can do her justice. She has a pair of eyes large capped and deeply fringed, with a flash of animation that is indescribable; her figure is small and supple, her movement joyous, her speech is rapid, and she is never silent for long. She and Nelly no sooner changed eyes than they fell in love with one another; she is devoted to her father, which is no wonder, and to her tiresome creole stepmother, which to me seems a miracle. She is a universal help in suffering, has aids at command for everything and everybody, and to sum up, she is the arrantest flirt I ever looked upon: the officers quartered here have one by one fallen victims, while she pretends to think they are heartwhole all the time. For the present she is so engrossed with Nelly that the flirtations are set aside; she is a child of the forest,

knows every flower that grows there, and every creeping insect; she rarely opens a book, but she understands people well, and could much better describe me than I can describe her. She has been in the habit of constantly riding with her father, and is a first-rate horsewoman. With her Nelly takes long rides; they pursue all the untrodden ways, and wherever they can find occasion for a leap they take it with delight. I fancy these rides too exhausting, but I think it best not to interfere yet. Certainly my child grows thinner; other people, however, say that she has charming spirits, but what strikes me is that she cannot bear to rest, and it is a trial to me that if I by chance sigh or look for a moment anxious, my darling walks straight out of the room. Perhaps in this way she is working her cure; what do you think? At any rate I am sure that Clotilde fills a void in her heart and excites her interest. Besides this, Fontainebleau is the fairest spot on earth; there is nothing so delicious as its forest, especially in its unfrequented paths, nor is there anything more beautiful in colour or in the art of composition, if I may say so, than its public gardens. We have a capital military band here, far more sweet in tone than our English

ones.

The presence of the military in the town is an addition to its picturesqueness, and the old château with all its associations is a source of interest.

Through the kindness of an old painter employed in copying there, I have obtained the means of access on private days, and when I feel too languid to walk with my friend the general I spend my day in the palace.

Lady Reynolds had just signed her letter, when Nelly, with a happy face and glowing colour, came in to ask her to join the general with his daughter and herself in a forest walk. Lady Reynolds was delighted to go; her niece's animation was evidently natural, and she felt sure that she was recovering. When they reached the Chaulieus' house on the borders of the forest, the old general, as usual, walked by the side of Lady Reynolds while Clotilde and Miss Reynolds went on in front. From time to time Clotilde's merry laugh was heard echoed by Nelly. "I wish," said the gallant old general, "that those two were boy and girl, for then, Lady Reynolds, I feel sure I should soon find myself related to you."

"You don't know, general," replied Millicent, "what a pleasure it is to me to see them so happy! I am sure Fontainebleau suits my child better than Paris." At this moment a young cavalry officer came galloping out of one of the forest glades, and paused to salute the general; there was a movement of astonishment from Nelly, and she stood in fixed attention; Lady Reynolds appeared not less surprised;

VOL. LIX.

2 L

and the general said: "That young captain is a hard rider; I fancy he is boy enough to enjoy the clang and clatter of his accoutrements. He has broken the silence of our forest with his usual vivacity, and I think it has startled you."

"No," replied Lady Reynolds, "I hardly noticed that it is a likeness, a really wonderful likeness that strikes me?

"Ah! then you know his brother Huguenay the painter. Charles and Victor resemble each other, just as if they had been twins. Charles is accounted the handsomer of the two, and indeed he is one of the best looking officers of his regiment as he is also one of the bravest. I owe my life to his intrepidity."

While they were speaking, Captain Charles was conversing with Mademoiselle Clotilde. She was caressing his horse's neck, and he was fixing his attention upon Miss Reynolds. She turned away, but his eyes still followed her, though he affected to interest himself in Mademoiselle Clotilde, till the general said: "March! I want to show my favourite oak-tree to Lady Reynolds;" upon which Captain Charles saluted the company and rode away.

Upon his departure the general called his daughter to his side and said with his frank smile: "I cannot have it, my Clotilde, I have looked on while you have slain many of my favourites, but you shall not destroy the peace of my Captain Huguenay; respect the man who came to the rescue of your adored papa."

"I do respect him," replied Clotilde, "but you are mistaken, my adored papa, and you are looking for the enemy in the wrong place in spite of your generalship. Direct your fire upon Miss Reynolds; she it is who has all at once captured your friend. He is in for it, and none of our efforts can save him.

"Don't talk so, Clotilde," said Nelly.

"If you neglect him, Miss Reynolds," said the general, "Clotilde will flirt with him out of pity; and then he will be asking for leave of absence as so many have done before, under her dominion."

"Don't believe him," said Clotilde, laughing. "Papa, you are not good to-day, I am displeased with you, and I shall walk on with Nelly and leave you and Lady Reynolds in the distance."

She ran forwards as she spoke, and presently she and Miss Reynolds were seen running races in the forest glades. When Lady Reynolds went home with her niece she said: "Nelly, what did you think of him, and did he not strike you as

"As an inferior copy of his brother," replied Miss Reynolds.

"It is an extraordinary resemblance," murmured Lady Reynolds. A signpost likeness," rejoined Nelly" but look," she continued, determined to break off the conversation, "there is a letter for you on the table in the handwriting of Henri Delorme. Do make haste to