The Cecil Whig., 1873-03-15

have given warning myself very soon.
have no notion Of being treated like dirt
moi!"
"Elser'
"Oh, l have no fault to find with you
mademoiselle-poiut du tout But may
say what like now, and say that mon
sieur, mademoiselle's father, is what you
call brute-theIe"'
"You must not talk SO. He will see
how unjust he has been soon."
"But mademoiselle is going ?''
Felicia did not answer-she only took
out her purse, in which were few SOW
ereigns.
"You have always been very good to
me, Elise" she said; "if 1 could, would
keep you with me still. shall always
think of you kindly, and I want you al
ways to think of me. Will you take this,
and buy yourself some little present to
remember me by?''
"Ah, mademoiselle is too good to have
sach father! Thank you many times,
will not be returning home just yet? Per-
haps she will want some one for a little
while? will stay with mademoiselle till
1 find place. Only return here, even the
demoiselle-.jama,s!'
"I am afraid we must part, Elise
Where are you going %
Mademoiselle will not want me?-
home, thenn'
"And where is that-in France?'
"No, mademoiselle; l have only a
mother: she has blanchisssrie in Soho"
"And you will 60 to her?.' And Fell
cia sighed.
"And you, mademoiseile ?"
"Ah, Elise, you are better off than Ip'
"I"
"Yes, you, Elise. You have mother
you have home. l have no friends now
-except-." But she did not name her
exception.
Mademoiselle has no friends ?" And
Elise opened her eyes in wonder.
None"
"But when Mr.. Cranstoun knows ?"
"Mr. Crounstoun will not know"
Elise opened her eyes still more widely.
A sudden thought struck Felicia.
"Elise," she said, twill you do me a
favor?"
"With pleasure, mademoiselle.
"Take me home with you"
If the eyes of Elise had opened widely
enough before, they now opened into sau-
GERS; but Felicia gave her no time to put
her astonishment into words.
81 am young and am strong" she went
on; "it is true that am not clever. like
some girls are. l can't sing, can't draw,
I can't play; but can sew, and can run
about, and l can work hard. When this
is empty"-and she held up her purse
81 must earn my bread, like you. Doyou
understand me ? will go to your mother,
1 will help her, if see will have me, and ]
will ask for no wages till can earn them,
and till my last penny is gone. Do you
think she will have me?
You, mademoiselle you at the 6lanch-
isserie!'
"Will she not have me, then, Elise %
"Is mademoiselle in earnest?'
"In perfect earnest. If l do not 60
with you, have nowhere to CO."
"Ah, mademoiselle, if that is so-but it
will be poor place for mademoiselle.
ga poor place? Then it will be the
filter for me. Elise, l am thrown upon
the world. 1 have always tried to be kind
to you: will you also refuse me the shelter
of roof, the chance to earn my bread"
"Ah, it is not that, mademoiselle"'
"Only for few nights, than ?"
"Ah, you are welcome to all we can
give! Mademoiselle is determined, then ?"
"Quite determined. shall be no bur-
den to you: will pay for my lodging and
my teaching, and then will work hard.
l may come, then?''
The two girls, now companions, set off
at once in the cab, without again seeing
Mr.. erode, who had shut himself up in
his front parlor. Their journey was not
long; a short quarter of an hour saw them
descend in a poor and dingy street, full of
mist and blackness and doubtful odor,
which, to Felicia, at least, was as strange
as if it had been thousand leagues away.
Elise got out first, and rang the bell of a
shabby door flanked by large wooden shut
ters. After another minute or two she
rang again; and then, in minute or two
more, was heard shuffling Of feet in the
passage, and the rattling of chain. At
last the door opened upon dark narrow
passage, feebly lighted by tallow candle,
carried by an elderly woman, in large
cap and a sort Of dressing-gown.
"Est-ce tois" cried out the candle bearer
in shrill French voice.
All, mamanl, c. est mol" and the two
threw themselves into one another's arms.
Then came whispered conversation,
while Felicia sat in the cab and waited
At last Elise returned to the window and
bade her descend.
Her headache had increased during her
ride; she felt as though she was being hur
ried through foreign countries in dream,
leaving her own self far behind her. She
did not regret the old life; he was even
anxious to begin the new. Did not the
only part of it that was worth having be-
long to the new as we'll as to the old? But
still she felt miserable and worn out, and
no wonder. 1t had been an exciting day,
to say the least of it.
"Are you Madame Cornet?' she asked
deprecatingly of the old lady, of whom she
felt rather in awe.
"Madame Cornet, widow and 6lanch-
isseuse Francaise-si, ma poucrs petite?
But do not talk now. l shall make you
some coffee, and we shall talk tomorrow.
But for chamber"
ooh, Madame Cornet, anywhere will do
for me!'
Josephine" cried out Madame Cornet,
in French, to some invisible number of
the household, "Elise has come home and
brought young lady with her. Make
some coffee at once-immediately; and
81 "a