the afternoon. At half-past five o'clock he
had ceased to exist.

This shocking catastrophe, startling and
suspicious as it was, did not appear to
discompose the nerves of Madame Duparc.
While her eldest son immediately left the
house to inform his father, who had been
absent in the country all day, of what had
happened, she lost no time in sending for the
nearest nurse to lay out the corpse of
Monsieur de Beaulieu. On entering the chamber
of death, the nurse found Marie there alone,
praying by the old man's bedside.

"He died suddenly, did he not? " said the
nurse.

"Very suddenly," answered Marie. "He
was walking about only yesterday, in perfect
health."

Soon afterwards the time came when it
was customary to prepare supper. Marie
went into the kitchen, mechanically, to get
the meal ready. Madame Duparc, her
daughter, and her youngest son, partook of
it as usual. Madame de Beaulieu,
overwhelmed by the dreadful death of her
husband, was incapable of joining them.

When supper was over, Marie assisted the
old lady to bed. Then, worn out though she
was with fatigue, she went back to the nurse
to keep her company in watching by the
dead body. Monsieur de Beaulieu had been
kind to Marie, and had spoken gratefully of
the little attentions she had shown him. She
remembered this tenderly now that he was
no more; and she could not find it in her
heart to leave a hired mourner to be the
only watcher by his death-bed. All that
night she remained in the room, entirely
ignorant of what was passing the while in
every other part of the house—her own little
bed-room included, as a matter of course.

About seven o'clock the next morning,
after sitting up all night, she went back
again wearily to the kitchen to begin her
day's work. Her mistress joined her there,
and saluted her instantly with a scolding.

"You are the most careless, slovenly girl
I ever met with," said Madame Duparc.
"Look at your dress! How can you expect
to be decent on a Sunday, if you wear your
best pair of pockets on week-days!"

Surely Madame Duparc's grief for the loss
of her father must have been slight enough
if it did not prevent her from paying the
strictest attention to her servant's pockets!
Although Marie had only known the old
man for a few days, she had been too deeply
impressed by his illness and its fatal end, to
be able to think of such a trifle as the condition
of her dress. And now, of all the people
in the world, it was Monsieur de Beaulieu's
daughter who reminded her that she had
never thought of changing her pockets, only
the day after the old man's dreadful death.

"Put on your old pockets, directly, you
untidy girl!" said Madame Duparc.

The old pockets were of course hanging
where Marie had left them, at the back of the
chair in her own room—the room which was
open to any one who chose to go into it—
the room which she herself had not entered
during the past night. She left the kitchen
to obey her mistress; and taking the old
pair of pockets off the chair, tied them on as
quickly as possible. From that fatal moment
the friendless maid-of-all-work was a ruined
girl.

CHAPTER THE SECOND. THE ARSENIC.

ON returning to the kitchen to go on with
her work, the exhaustion against which
Marie had hitherto fought successfully, over-
powered her the moment she sat down; her
heavy head drooped, her eyes closed in spite
of her, and she fell into a broken, uneasy
slumber. Madame Duparc and her daughter,
seeing the condition she was in, undertook
the preparation of the day's dinner
themselves. Among the dishes which they got
ready, and which they salted from the cellars
on the dresser, were two different kinds of
soup—one kind, for themselves, made from
fresh "stock "—the other, for Marie and the
nurse, made from old "stock." While they
were engaged over their cookery, Monsieur
Duparc arrived from the country, and Marie
was awakened to take the horse he had ridden
to the stables, to unsaddle the animal, and
to give him his feed of corn. While she was thus
engaged, Madame Duparc and her daughter
remained alone in the kitchen. When she
left the stable it was time for her to lay
the cloth. She was told to put plates for
seven persons. Only six, however, sat down
to dinner. These six were, Madame de
Beaulieu, Monsieur and Madame Duparc, the
youngest of their two sons, Madame Beauguillot
(sister of Madame Duparc), and Monsieur
Beauguillot (her son). Mademoiselle Duparc
remained in the kitchen to help Marie in
serving up the dinner, and only took her
place at table after the soup had been
put on. Her elder brother, after summoning
his father home, had not returned to the
house.

After the soup had been taken away, and
while Marie was waiting at table, during the
eating of the second course, young Duparc
complained that he felt something gritty
between his teeth. His mother made
precisely the same remark. Nobody else,
however, agreed with them, and the subject was
allowed to drop. When the second course
was done with, the dessert followed, consisting
of a plate of cherries. With the dessert
there arrived a visitor, Monsieur Fergant, a
relation of Madame Duparc's. This gentleman
sat down at table with the rest of the
company.

Meanwhile, the nurse and Marie were
making their dinner in the kitchen off the soup
which had been specially provided for them—
Marie having previously placed the dirty plates
and the empty soup tureen from the dining-