edifying in its spirit than the first, but not nearly so good Latin.
"Until our meeting I remain
"Your faithful tutor and servant,
"VINCENT DE PAUL DESPARD."
The third evening after this, just as François, who had read a good deal of Horace and a little of Thomas à Kempis, had counted all the stones of the dead wall opposite his window, and made some progress in taming the sparrows, which he fed with crumbs on his window-sill, was putting on his plumed hat with the intention of sallying forth to meet his tutor upon the road, or, failing this, to push on to the chateau, and end this miserable suspense, the door was hurriedly opened, and Pére Vincent entered with a face so full of ill news, that the young baron exclaimed,—
" My brother is worse,—is dead!"
"No monsieur, but"—
"Valerie is betrothed to him?"
"I do not know, monsieur, but"—
"Has not she written to me?"
"Yes, monsieur, but"—
"Give it me, please, then, and in pity do not say 'but' again to-night."
"But, Monsieur le Baron"—
"But, mon père!"
And half petulant, half laughing, François snatched the letter from the abbe's tardy fingers, and, tearing it open, hastily read,—
"I have not written to you before, François, because I knew not what to say, and also because I was busy in attending Gas-
