recluses with all my heart. Ah! they have
had their troubles, poor people, the sister
especially, though they never talk about
them. When they first came to live in our
neighbourhood"——

"I beg pardon, citoyenne, but if you would
only be so kind as to direct me"——

''Which is three—no, four—no, three years
and a half ago—in short, just after the time
when that Satan of a man, Robespierre, had
his head cut off (and serve him right!), I said
to my husband (who was on his last legs
then, poor man!), 'She'll die,'—meaning the
lady. She didn't though. My fowls, eggs,
bread, butter, vegetables, and wine, carried
her through,—always in combination with
the anxious care of citizen Maurice. Yes,
yes! let us be tenderly conscientious in
giving credit where credit is due; let us
never forget that the citizen Maurice
contributed something to the cure of the
interesting invalid, as well as the victuals and drink
from the Piebald Horse. There she is now,
the prettiest little woman in the prettiest
little cottage——"

"Where? Will you be so obliging as to
tell me where?"

"And in excellent health, except that
she is subject now and then to nervous
attacks, having evidently, as I believe, been
struck with some dreadful fright, most
likely during that accursed time of the
Terror, for they came from Paris—you don't
drink, honest man! Why don't you drink?
—Very, very pretty in a pale way; figure
perhaps too thin—let me pour it out for
you—but an angel of gentleness, and
attached in such a touching way to the citizen
Maurice"——

"Citizen hostess! will you, or will you not,
tell me where they live?"

"You droll little man! why did you not
ask me that before, if you wanted to know?
Finish your wine and come to the door.
There's your change, and thank you for your
custom, though it isn't much. Come to the
door, I say, and don't interrupt me! You're
an old man,—"can you see forty yards before
you?—Yes, you can! Don't be peevish,—
that never did anybody any good yet. Now
look back, along the road, where I am pointing.
You see a large heap of stones? Good.
On the other side of the heap of stones, there
Is a little path,—you can't see that, but you
can remember what I tell you? Good. You
go down the path till you get to a stream;
down the stream till you get to a bridge;
down the other bank of the stream (after
crossing the bridge) till you get to an old
water-mill,—a jewel of a water-mill! famous
for miles round; artists from the four quarters
of the globe are always coming to sketch
it! Ah! what you are getting peevish
again? You won't wait? Impatient old
man, what a life your wife must lead, if you
have got one! Remember the bridge! Ah!
your poor wife and children, I pity them,—
your daughters especially. Pst! pst!
Remember the bridge,—peevish old man,
remember the bridge!"

Walking as fast as he could out of hearing
of the Widow Duval's tongue, Lomaque took
the path by the heap of stones which led out
of the high-road, crossed the stream, and
arrived at the old water-mill. Close by it
stood a cottage, a rough, simple building,
with a strip of garden in front. Lomaque's
observant eyes marked the graceful
arrangement of the flower-beds and the delicate
whiteness of the curtains that hung behind
the badly-glazed narrow windows. "This
must be the place," he said to himself as he
knocked at the door with his stick. "I can
see the traces of her hand before I cross the
threshold."

The door was opened. "Pray, does the
citizen Maurice—?" Lomaque began, not
seeing clearly for the first moment, in the
dark little passage.

Before he could say any more his hand was
grasped, his carpet-bag was taken from him,
and a well-known voice cried, " Welcome! a
thousand thousand times welcome, at last!
Citizen Maurice is not at home; but Louis
Trudaine takes his place, and is overjoyed to
see once more the best and dearest of his
friends!"

"I hardly know you again. How you'are
altered for the better! " exclaimed Lomaque,
as they entered the parlour of the cottage.

"Remember that you see me after a long
freedom from anxiety. Since I have lived
here, I have gone to rest at night, and have
not been afraid of the morning," replied
Trudaine. He went out into the passage, while
he spoke, and called at the foot of the one
flight of stairs which the cottage possessed,
"Rose! Rose! come down! The friend whom
you most wished to see has arrived at last!"

She answered the summons immediately.
The frank friendly warmth of her greeting;
her resolute determination, after the first
inquiries were over, to help the guest to take
off his upper coat with her own hands, so
confused and delighted Lomaque, that he
hardly knew which way to turn, or what
to say.

"This is even more trying, in a pleasant
way, to a lonely old fellow like me"—he was
about to add, "than the unexpected civility of
the hot cup of coffee, years ago;" but
remembering what recollections even that trifling
circumstance might recal, he checked himself.

"More trying than what?" asked Rose,
leading him to a chair.

"Ah! I forget. I am in my dotage
already! " he answered confusedly. "I have
not got used just yet to the pleasure of seeing
your kind face again."

It was indeed a pleasure to look at that
face now, after Lomaque's last experience of
it. Three years of repose, though they had
not restored to Rose those youthful attractions
which she had lost for ever in the days