about her expression, which through all the
changes which her face underwent, as she grew
from a child to a girl, and from a girl to an
almost woman, never left her. She was six years
old, and Gilbert was eight, when they first
plighted their troths to each other, and when
the two grew to be sixteen and eighteen
respectively, they had in no respect wearied of each
other's society. How those ten years were
passed I have not time to tell. I wish I had. The
life of that boy and girl on that West Indian
Island, had something of Paul and Virginia
about it which it would be very pleasant to
follow, did not the main incidents of my story,
to be hereafter developed, demand all the space
I have at command.

Of course it is unnecessary to say that during
this period of ten years the intercourse between
these young people was from time to time
suspended. Gilbert's father would send for him
at intervals for the pleasure of having the lad
by him, and giving him a holiday, as he called
it. I am afraid that Gilbert's real holiday––
though he was warmly attached to both his
father and sister––was rather spent at school––
such school as was kept by the ex-student of
St. Omer, in the house of Governor Descartes.

It was on the occasion of one of these visits
to his father that Gilbert, not knowing exactly
what to do with himself, and being a boy always
eager for information, got hold of certain
English law books, of which his father had a
good collection, to help him in the duties of his
office, and settling himself down with his head
in his hands, began to pore over the volumes by
the hour together. And he had two reasons for
thus proceeding. First, a wish to improve
himself in the English language; and next, very soon
after he had made the first plunge into law, the
science and logic of the thing began to exercise
such an influence over him––he being now a lad
of some sixteen years' standing––that he could
not abandon the study he had voluntarily taken
up without something of an effort.

It has been said above that he wanted first
to improve himself in the English language, and
this brings me to an announcement of a rather
startling nature, which will be found to affect
our hero's career not a little. Gilbert Penmore,
though of English birth, having been brought
up almost entirely among French people, and
in a French colony, had attained to a most
perfect knowledge of the French language, and
in doing so had to some extent let go his own.
In his occasional visits to his home this had of
course been frequently observed and laughed at,
but as the boy grew up to be about the age I have
spoken of, the joke began to be rather too good
an one, and his mistakes and his accent began
so much to distress his father, that the worthy
gentleman at last spoke seriously to his son upon
the subject, and entreated him to remember how
much it might stand in his way in life if he, an
Englishman, was found to be imperfectly
acquainted with his own language. "A language,"
the worthy gentleman added, "as superior to
the other as light is to darkness––a language
which can deal with the highest subjects as
well as the most trivial––a language into which
even the Bible may be, as it has been, fitly
translated, and which, being capable of the
dignity of blank verse, can give us when we
require it poetic dialogue free from the French
jingle of perpetual rhymes." Gilbert promised
in the vilest English that he would remember
this hint, and act upon it, and going back to
"school," talked French incessantly for six
months.

It was soon after this time that an incident
occurred which wrought a great change in our
youngster's life. His little friend and playfellow
fell very sick of a fever such as abound in
those climates, and though she recovered from
it ultimately, the medical authorities pronounced
it indispensably necessary that she should at
once be sent off to Europe for the more
complete restoration of her health. There may
have been, and I believe there was, another
reason for this journey. Madame Descartes,
who had neglected her children while they
were children, now that her daughter was growing
up began to take some interest in her
welfare, and, more especially being a very worldly
woman, to feel a strong wish that the future of
her daughter might be a brilliant one. It began
then to strike her that the growing intimacy
between Gabrielle and young Penmore, a lad
of eighteen, not even started yet in life, could
hardly lead to the fulfilment of her ambition,
and this proposal of the doctor's that the invalid
girl should travel to Europe without delay, met
with the greater approval of Madame Descartes,
because she felt that it would, at all events, be
the means of separating her daughter from this
young man, who, at this time, certainly did
seem to be anything but the kind of person who
could ensure a prosperous future to Mademoiselle
Gabrielle Descartes.

The news that Gabrielle was going away
descended upon poor Gilbert like a thunderclap.
The continual intercourse between the
two, which had now lasted so long, had got to
be regarded by both as a thing of course, and
which was never to be interrupted. Indeed,
the despair of the two young people was so
little to be hidden, that Madame lost no time in
hurrying her daughter's departure. This,
however, was not accomplished till after the lovers
had effected a stolen meeting, and had, not
without many tears, once more renewed that
pledge which they had given to each other when
a couple of children. What else were they
now? What did they know of the world?
What of life, and its difficulties, and necessities?
Heaven help them, that knowledge was
all to come.

The parting between the lovers took place
some little time before that of Gabrielle's
departure, for Gilbert was now to go back to his
father for a time, having reached an age when
it was necessary that he should begin to think
how he was to spend the long life which, humanly
speaking, lay before him.

It was not long after Gilbert's return to his