result in idle despair, it would but have been with her as it was

with many. But, from the hour when she had taken the white head

to her fresh young bosom in the garret of Saint Antoine, she had

been true to her duties. She was truest to them in the season of

trial, as all the quietly loyal and good will always be.

As soon as they were established in their new residence, and

her father had entered on the routine of his avocations, she

arranged the little household as exactly as if her husband had

been there. Everything had its appointed place and its appointed

time. Little Lucie she taught, as regularly, as if they had all been

united in their English home. The slight devices with which she

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cheated herself into the show of a belief that they would soon be

reunitedthe little preparations for his speedy return, the setting

aside of his chair and his booksthese, and the solemn prayer at

night for one dear prisoner especially, among the many unhappy

souls in prison and the shadow of deathwere almost the only

outspoken reliefs of her heavy mind.

She did not greatly alter in appearance. The plain dark dresses,

akin to mourning dresses, which she and her child wore, were as

neat and as well attended to as the brighter clothes of happy days.

She lost her colour, and the old and intent expression was a