stops me. Oh, it is so beautiful here, Lucy; you can see so much sky, clear from mountain to mountain. Sometimes the girls draw me along the river bank, and we stop under the willows and talk of you and Charlie. Give my best love to Charlie, and tell him I dreamed"—then followed two effaced lines—"mother has blotted over this, because she says you would not like to tell him; so good-by, dear Lucy."
So happy was Lucy, that she would scarcely have remembered the miserable affair at Mrs. Hartell's, if Charles had not called daily to ask if she had heard nothing more from that "infamous wretch," the gentlest name he vouchsafed Adéle; and each day she repeated her entreaties that he would be more patient, and wait till sufficient time had elapsed for Mr. Hartell's return; "if justice is not done you then, Lucy, don't preach patience to me any longer," said Charles; "patience may be very Christian in you, but in my opinion it's very poltronish in me, besides being impossible." "Well, wait, Charles, till to-morrow," Lucy replied to his last outbreak; "Mrs. Hyde says it is possible Mr. Hartell may be here to-morrow." The next morning, at dawn, Mrs. Hyde's door-bell was rung violently, and a message came to Lucy, entreating her to go immediately to Mr. Hartell's, for Eugene was dying; when she entered Mrs. Hartell's nursery, she found Eugene in his father's arms in a deathlike stupor. Mr. Hartell, half distracted, was walking up and down the room. The physician, who had done all his art could do, was anxiously watching the child's rigid features. Mrs. Hartell was wrapped in her shawl, shivering and sighing,
