Marie

steadfastly on the floor. In vain Abby Rock tried to draw her into the conversation, telling her how she, Abby, and Mr. De Arthenay had been talking about her, and how they thought she'd bette

all that was in his heart, nor would he have told it if he could. It was still a thing of horror to him,-a thing that would surely be cast out as soon as he came to himself; and how better could he bring himself to his senses than by facing this dream, this poss

re was no awkwardness to him in sitting thus silent; it was the habit of his life: he spoke when he had occasion to say anything; for the rest, he considered over-much speech as one of the curses of our fallen state. But Abby "felt as if she should fly," as she expressed it to herself, while he sat there. A pall of silence seemed to descend upon the room, generally so cheerful: the French girl cowered under it, and seemed to shrink visibly, like a dumb creature in fright. And when he was gone, she

ght!); such a singing, light, pretty creature to look at and listen to! and the house had been so quiet since mother died; and after all, it was pleasant to have some one to do for and "putter round."

ld to her, and took her on her knee, and talked with her. Ah, she was good, the Countess, and lovely! After that Marie was brought to the castle every day, and the Countess played to her of the violin, and Marie knew all at once that this was the best thing in the world, and the dearest, and the one to die for, you understand. (But Abby did not understand in the least.) So when Madame the Countess saw how it was, she taught Marie, and got her the Lady, the violin which was Marie's life and soul; and she let come down from Paris a great teacher, and they all

an make music, make happy, make joy of myself and ozerbodies. When I take her; Madame, so, in my hand, I can do what I will, no? People have glad thinks, sorry thinks; what Marie

thought that Abby had taken it away, as a pious church member should, and destroyed it from the face of the earth. At all events there was no mention of it, and the only sound he heard when he

s. My sister Lizzie that I've told you so much about, she's dreadful sick, and I've got to go right out and take care of her. Thank you, dear!" (as she felt Marie's arms round her on the instant, and the soft voice murmured little French sympathies in her ear), "you're real good, I'm sure, and I know you feel for me. I've got to go right off to-morrow or next da

the horns with her left hand. Briefly, he asked her to be his wife; to come home with him, and keep his house, and share good and evil with him. He would take care of her, he said, and-and-he trusted the Lord would bless the union. If his voice shook

very kind indeed. She would like to think about it a little, if they pleased; she would do all she could to please them, but she was very young, and she would like to take ti

hild. Not but what it's a great chance for her," she added hastily. "My! to get a good home, and a good provider, as I make no doubt you would be, after the life she's led, traipsin' here and there, and livin' with darkened heathens, or as bad. But-but-you'll be kind to her, won't you, Jacques? She-she's

r well-meant discourse. He sat brooding in the corner, as was his wont, but wi

ther an awestruck voice, as he rose abruptly to bid her good-day

ight, hard eyes. "Nothing else! She is my life!" and

would love her when he came to know her well, and see all her pretty ways about the house, like a kitten or a bird. And she would respect and admire him, that was certain, Abby thought. He was a pictur' of a man, when he got his store clothes on, and nobody had ever had a word to say against him. He was no talker, but some thought that was no drawback in the married state. Abby remembered how Sister Lizzie's young husband had tormented her with foolish questions during the week he bad spent with them at the time of the marriage: a spruce young clerk from a city store, not knowing o

o take her and kill her slowly, that he might have the pleasure of seeing her die. Ah, she knew, Marie! had she not seen wicked people before? But she would not tell Abiroc, for it would only grieve her, and she would talk, talk, and Marie wanted no talking. She o

as her own, and when she had it on, and the old handkerchief tied under her chin once more, and Madame in her box, ready to go with her the world over, why, then she felt that she was Marie once more; that this had all been

it was! There was the same wavering motion that she had seen on every fair Easter Day that she could remember. She thought how Mere Jeanne had first called her attention, to it, when she was little, little, just able to toddle, and had told her that the sun danced so on Easter Morning, for joy that the Good Lord had risen from the dead; and so it was a lesson for us all, and we must dance on Easter Day, if we never danced all the rest of the year. Ah, how they danced at home there in the village! But now, it was not Easter at all, and yet the sun danced; what should it mean? And it came to Marie's mind that perhaps the Good Lord had told it to dance, for a sign to her tha

turned the corner, and almost fell into the arms of a man, who was coming in the opposite direction. Both uttered a cry at the same moment: Marie first giving a little startled shriek, but her voice

ish triumph; an angry man, who poured out a torrent of furious words, reproaching, threatening, by turns, as he found his victim once more within his grasp, just when he had given up all hope of finding her again. Ah, but he h

ke,-the sun dancing, the heavens bending down to aid and cheer her,-all had been a mistake, a lie. There was nothing now for the rest of her life but this,-this brut

ge, of defiance; the next moment something rushed past her like a flash; there was a brief struggle, a shout, an oath, then a heavy fall. When the bewildered child could clear her eyes from the mist o

y, and tell him you are my wife!" And did she-with those blue eyes on her, which she had never met before, but which now caught and chained her gaze, so that she could not look away, try as she might-did she of her own free will answer, "Yes, Monsieur, I am your wife, if you say it; if you will keep me from him, Monsieur!" Then-Marie did not know what came then. There were more words between the two men, loud and fierce on one side, low and fierce on the other; and then Le Boss was gone, and she was walking back to