syllable till he had quite finished; but my
blood boiled in every artery, harsh-sounding
words were at the tip of my tongue, and
I felt an irresistible impulse to kick him.
He ended his proposition; but I still
remained silent. He then looked keenly at
me with one of his cunning eyes half-shut.
I smothered my indignation as well as I
could, and summoned all the dissimulation of
which I was capable; for I felt full well that
if I reproached him as his baseness deserved,
he would perhaps look upon me as a hypocrite,
certainly as a fool, and moreover that there
would be an end at once to any transaction
with me, probably to be followed by a worse
with somebody else. I therefore merely
answered, hardly daring to let my voice be
heard beyond my lips, that I was a little
taken by surprise; that he was not far from
the truth in believing that I had taken a
warm interest in Catherine, but that I could
not give him an immediate explanation of
what I would do. If he would wait until
to-morrow, I would give a decision. He
expressed himself quite satisfied with this,
and certain that he would see me at the
Folly next morning. He then began to
whistle a tune, as if a heavy weight was
removed from his mind, or as if he had
concluded an excellent bargain, and most
politely wished me good night;—to which
friendly benediction when I tried to reply,
the words stuck fast in my throat. I was
obliged to bow instead, and hastily turn my
back.

That night cost me a sore struggle. Was
I in love? Yes, helplessly and with an
obscure French girl.

After hours of restless agitation, I came to
what I believed to be the right solution of
the difficulty. A general plan presented
itself to my mind, the details of which I had
no doubt I could accomplish; and I fell fast
asleep cherishing the plan; waking refreshed
late the following morning. My scheme, on
reconsidering it, appeared more feasible and
promising than ever.

I hired a carriage to take me as far into
the marshes in the direction of André's house,
as the road allowed. I found André, his
wife, and Catherine, at the Folly; the two
daughters were out to work. André had
strung up his courage with a dram—I smelt
it; his wife was agitated; Catherine was
pale. She had been partly told the purport
of our last night's conversation. Without
further preliminary, I mentioned that her
uncle wished me to take charge of her future
prospects; I would do so, if she consented to
place herself in my care. I then paused, and
said no more.

A strong and searching gaze at my
countenance preceded her reply. It was
short and decided. She would trust
herself entirely to me. André's wife breathed
deeply as though relieved, and muttered,
"That is far better than sending her to
Paris." He himself was about to drink to
our healths, but I cut the interview short.
The woman manifested a penitential self-
reproaching affection; Boisson seemed hardly
to think it worth his while concealing his
uppermost wish that we should be gone. I
gave my hand to Catherine, which she firmly
grasped; and permitted me to lead her to the
carriage. On the way to the town, I explained
to her my plans, to which she listened with
surprise, assent, and gratitude. At my apartment
were waiting some women, by my orders,
who relieved her of her peasant's dress, and
replaced it by a complete costume more
befitting my own position in life. When
permitted to see her after the metamorphosis
I was charmed with her appearance. That
innate ease which belongs more or less to all
Frenchwomen was conspicuous in her. We
hastily partook of some refreshments, and
resumed our journey.

After a few hours' pleasant ride, we reached
a noted sea-port town, in which there are several
well-conducted ladies' schools. We drove at
once to Madame Guilbert's establishment, of
which I had heard satisfactory accounts, and
I introduced Catherine to the mistress as a
young French Protestant lady, a connection
of my own, whose education had been greatly
neglected, but whom it was now desirable to
improve as fast as possible, as well as to
instruct in English. I said I had selected
her school in preference to any other, partly
on account of the number of English girls
there. A new pupil is ever welcome. The
references I gave as to myself removed all
open hesitation on the lady's part, and a half-
year's payment in advance as parlour boarder
settled any latent scruple that might remain.
I gave Madame Guilbert money on account,
for dress, and told her to write to me for
more, immediately that that was expended.
I then took my leave, with the understanding
that I would pay a short morning visit to her
pupil at least once every month. Our parting
thus was hard; but we both knew it to be
wise and needful. Madame had too often
witnessed the separation of parents and
children, of brethren and sisters, to pay much
attention at such a time to tears and earnest
promises of affectionate remembrance.

I returned home. At first, there was a
little gossip in the town, in consequence of
the milliner, the bonnet-maker, and the
woman who furnished the ready-made linen,
mentioning the transformation which had
taken place at my apartment; but my friend
Lemaire, to whom I confided all my past
proceedings and my future projects, called
me a "brave," and soon "pooh-pooh'd" all
scandal down. A few silly marsh girls, for
a few short days, envied Catherine's "good
fortune;" but in another few days her
departure was forgotten.

I duly paid my promised visits to Catherine.
Her mind became developed rapidly. I never
saw her except in the mistress's presence