in the pool hard by; the wind had dropped to a fitful breeze, which, every now and again, wafted faint aromatic odors to her from the dewy shrubs; the luminous southern stars looked calmly down upon her from their immeasurable height

As a little thing beholding

Man his long career unfolding.

But Jeanne had no ears just then for the soothing voices of Nature, nor could she derive any of the comfort which some people profess to feel from a philosophic contemplation of her own insignificance. On the contrary, her mind was so filled and harassed with thoughts of herself and of those dearest to her-with doubts and fears and anxieties-that she could hardly have said, without an effort, whether the night were starry or clouded. How, indeed, could it have been otherwise with her, seeing that she had reached, and knew she had reached, the term of a period in her existence, the end of a long stage in her journey through the world, the last words of the first chapter of her life? Soon she must turn over the leaf; and who could tell what the next page might reveal? A dismal tale of anxiety and disappointment very likely, or, worse still, the brief, blackbordered record of a misfortune too terrible to be named as yet, even in thought. Jeanne shuddered, and turned resolutely away from the mental picture which rose before her." What is the use of tormenting one's self about troubles which do not exist The present is bad enough; I will not think any more about the future," she determined, very sensibly. Immediately after which she went back to her gloomy forecasts.

The mind is like a ship; it must be under way before it can be steered into this or that channel. Let it lie idle, and it will drift hither and thither, at the mercy of any chance current, and refuse to answer the helm. Jeanne, who was out of health, out of spirits, and very tired, had lost all self-control for the time; and what with the horrors conjured up by her imagination, what with the irritability which prolonged waiting for anybody or any thing always engenders, had soon fretted herself into a condition of nervousness in which all conceivable calamities seemed probable, and good fortune a thing past hoping for.

When at last Léon arrived, he was startled and shocked by the glimpse of his sister's face which he caught as he stepped out on to the veranda; it locked so sad and wan and drawn.

"Why, Jeanne," said he, laying his hand gently upon her shoulder, what is the matter? You have been overfatiguing yourself."

She turned her head, and looked up at him with pitiful eyes. She tried to speak, but the words would not come. Her lips quivered, and presently two tears brimmed over from her eyelids and rolled slowly down her pale cheeks. Léon was down on his knees beside her chair, and had his arms round her in a minute. "What is it, Jeanne? What is it, ma sœur?" he exclaimed. "Who has been troubling you?"

Perhaps his heart had already answered the question. He was rather selfish, as most young men are, but he had a conscience, which is likewise one of the attributes of youth; and it may very likely have smitten him, just then, with a remorseful memory of the long period during which he had avoided and neglected the sister who had sacrificed so much for him, and whom he was now about to part with, perhaps forever.

"Tell me all about it, Jeanne," he whispered, kissing her forehead. It was the first time for many months that he had spoken to her in that tone, and Jeanne was quite upset by it. She threw her arms round her brother's neck, hid her face on his shoulder, and sobbed like any child.

"Love me a little, Léon," she murmured; "you are all I have in the world."

66

Jeanne, Jeanne! you know I love you! Something has come between us lately; it has been all my fault, I know. It has been ever since that accursed night when I lost the money. I fancied you despised me-you would have been quite right if you had, Heaven knows! And then Saint-Luc-"

"No," interrupted Jeanne hastily; "if anybody has been to blame it is I. I have been unhappy and anxious, and that has often made my manner disagreeable, though indeed I have never wished it to be so. Let us forget what has passed. We are good friends now, are we not? and we will never be any

thing else again. I am sorry I should have treated you to a scene on your last night, dear," she added, straightening herself in her chair, and drying her eyes. **I think it must be the heat that makes me so silly, and takes away all my courage and strength. Now sit down in that arm-chair that is waiting for you, and tell me the news from the farm. Have you sold all the colts, and is Pierre as dissatisfied as usual with the price you have got for them? What bargains he will drive for us, and what a bad name we shall get in the country while we are away!"

Jeanne was always a little shy after having displayed emotion, even before her brother; and Léon, who understood her, accepted the change of subject.

I have disposed of nearly every thing that has four legs to stand upon," he answered cheerfully," and I have told Pierre he must get rid of the cripples upon the best terms he can obtain. I don't choose to leave my farm ready stocked for the Arabs to plunder." "Do you think there will be an insurrection, then ?"

"I hope there will not; but one never can tell. What is certain is that, if the Arabs do rise now, or a short time hence, they will overrun the whole province, for we have no troops to send against them. I mean to have every thing valuable sent away even from this house as soon as you are gone, though I hardly think they will get as near the town as this."

"What are you going to do with the ponies, Léon? I wish you would sell them.'

The ponies I bought from SaintLuc, do you mean? I was thinking of sending them to stables in Algiers.

"Don't do that; what is the use of going to such an expense? I should be so glad if you would get rid of them."

Well, you see, it is not a very good time for selling ponies," said Léon, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "The Government is buying up every sort and kind of horse, sound and unsound, but they have a certain standard of size unfortunately, and nobody else has any money to spend. And then there is that scrape on the shoulder that Caïd got the day you let him down.

I did not let him down," interrupted

"I mean if there were really any danger of your being unhappy as his wifeonly I am certain that he would make any woman happy. And now that he has distinguished himself so much, his wife will have every reason to be proud of him. I told you, did I not, that he has been thanked by the Government for his services?"

"Did you? I do not remember. I have never supposed him to be any thing but a brave man.

"I can't quite make you out, Jeanne. You always speak of him with a sort of aversion, and he himself has noticed it. He is forever harping upon the subject in his letters, and I don't know how to answer him, except by saying, what I believe is the truth, that it is not him whom you hate, but men in general."

"Not all men," said Jeanne, smiling.

66

'No; I know there is one unworthy exception; and I dare say you are fond of M. de Fontvieille, and the Curé, and one or two other relics of antiquity; but when it comes to young men―ah, that is another affair! 1 declare that I cannot call to mind a single one whom you have not positively detested, except Mr. Barrington; and I believe you only made friends with him because he was an Englishman. You are not like other girls, you dear old Jeanne; you will never be in love with anybody."

"I do not love M. de Saint-Luc, and he knows it," said Jeanne. He has no right to complain of me.'

"I don't know," said Léon musing

ly. "It seems a little strange that you should never have written him a line, nor even sent him a message, after all he has been through. Not that he does complain, only I fancy he is rather hurt about it."

an

"If I had known that he expected me to write, I would have written,' swered Jeanne indifferently. "I can easily send him a line or two, from time to time, in future, though I hardly know what I am to say to him. Now we will waste no more of our last evening in discussing the subject."

"But, Jeanne," persisted Léon, "I want to know one thing-do you really, of your own free-will, wish to marry Saint-Luc ?"

"I don't know exactly what you mean by my own free-will; nobody forces me into marrying him. You know how the engagement came about; everybody wished it, and it seemed desirable in more ways than one."

"Yes," acquiesced Léon, with a sigh; "it seemed desirable, but there have been changes since then. Do you know, Jeanne, I am afraid you would never have consented to the arrangement if I had not lost that money.'

Jeanne remained silent.

What a selfish wretch I have been!" exclaimed the young man, with a genuine access of penitence. Happily the mischief is not irreparable. Now that our poor Duchess has been taken from us, there is no longer any need for our keep ing this house, and before I leave I will write instructions to have the whole of my property in Algeria sold. The moment is not very propitious; but no matter! I shall always realize enough to pay Saint-Luc, and keep a sufficient amount of capital to live upon; and perhaps, when the war is over, we may come back to Africa and make a fresh start. In any case, my good, kind Jeanne, you are free; and the interest of your own fortune will more than meet your expenses, wherever you may be. I will explain every thing to Saint-Luc when I see him.

Jeanne rose slowly from her chair, and, bending over her brother, kissed him on the forehead. Then she took both his hands, and, drawing back a little, surveyed him, with a proud, happy light shining through her moist eyes, while he,

on his side, smiled back at her, rejoicing in his heart that he was able once more to look his sister in the face without an effort.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked at length.

Forgive you! It is I who ought to ask for forgiveness. I have been wronging you all this time, Léon. I have thought-but it does not matter what I have thought; I know now that you are still my own generous, foolish Léon, and that you are ready to ruin yourself rather than let me run any risk of unhappiness. If our dear father were alive, he would not be ashamed of his son."

There is every reason to suppose that these flattering words found a ready echo. in the breast of the person to whom they were addressed. Léon was always prone to estimate himself at the value set upon him by others, and although he had just accused himself of selfishness, he had only used the term in a retrospective sense.

Nonsense, ma sœur,' he answered lightly; "I simply do my duty." But he probably remembered, at the same time, that this is more than most people can say with truth.

Jeanne went on, without noticing his interpolation-" You must not think, though, that I am less a de Mersac than you. What I have to do is quite plain. to me, and I intend to do it. And therefore, my dear Léon, you will do me the pleasure to keep the land that belongs to you, and to take no message from me to M. de Saint-Luc, except that, after this, I shall write to him once a month."

"I tell you, Jeanne, my mind is made up; and when I say that my mind is made up-"

"You very often proceed to change it. Do not look angry; obstinacy is a vice, not a virtue, and you need not dispute me my possession of it. If you will think a little, you will see how inconvenient and absurd it would be to alter our plans now; and indeed, as you say, it is so very unlikely that I shall ever fall in love with anybody, that I might as well marry M. de Saint-Luc as another. If you and I could always live alone together, it might be different; but that is out of the question. Some day you yourself will marry, and then what is to become of me?"

"Do you suppose that I will ever let you have any other home than mine? I promise you that my wife, whoever she may prove to be, will be made to understand, from the first, that her entrance into the family is to make no difference in your position. But the fact is that I shall certainly not marry for a great many years, and perhaps never. The women of our time," continued Léon, with the solemnity of a man of varied experiences, "are not to my taste. They are artificial, hypocritical, worldly, and heartless (you will understand that I do not speak of you-you are exceptional), and honest men are no match for them. They conceal their private lives by means of a pretence of religious fervor just as they cover their faces with white and red paint; and who is to tell what is beneath either? I, unfortunately, am very easily deceived; and for that reason I am resolved never to marry a pretty or fashionable lady. No; my wife, if ever I have one, will be a plain, sensible person, not very young, who will accept her position quietly, and not disturb you in the least. But, upon the whole, I think I would rather live and die a bachelor. After all, there is barely one woman in a hundred whom one can trust."

Without inquiring into the cause of this sweeping condemnation of her sex, Jeanne expressed a conviction that time. would modify it. "In the course of a few years you will undoubtedly meet the one woman out of a hundred," she said; "and though I know you would always make me welcome, still I should not like to be third in the household, and upon your wedding-day 1 should find myself obliged to choose between two alternatives-marriage and the convent. Probably I am better fitted for the former, and therefore I ought to be very glad that I have the chance of taking M. de SaintLuc, who has proved that he is really fond of me, and whom I do not dislike -indeed, I sometimes almost like him." "It is no use, Jeanne,' answered Léon. "You say all this because you wish me to keep my money; but I have made up my mind that, having lost, I will pay; and you need not give yourself the trouble to argue the point any more, for I warn you beforehand that you will fail.”

It will scarcely, however, surprise the

reader to learn that, after another half hour of discussion, he had so far yielded as to promise that he would neither issue immediate instructions for the sale of his property, nor take any steps toward breaking off his sister's engagement. Jeanne, on her side, agreed to leave the question of her marriage open for the present. There was a kind of tacit understanding between the two young people that nothing definite was to be settled until after the conclusion of peace. Very likely both of them felt, though neither may have actually faced the thought, that it was needless to form plans which powder and shot might dispose of at any moment.

So they settled it between them in the starlight, and were contented with themselves and with one another. It may have been observed that, in the unselfish contest, the interests and wishes of M. de Saint-Luc had not received much attention; but he, like the poet in Schil ler's song, had been guilty of the unpardonable fault of absence at the critical moment, and could not, therefore, ex pect to be remembered. To be sure, the poet's consolation of substituting heavenly for earthly joys remained open to him.

CHAPTER XXVII.

FAREWELL TO ALGIERS.

THE idlers of Algiers-Christian, Mussulman, and Hebrew-were collected together upon the wharves, watching, with languid curiosity, a sight which for them had no longer the charm of novelty-that of a huge, slab-sided transport slowly moving through the harbor's mouth. While a faint farewell cheer rose from the decks of the outward-bound ship, and was answered by a still fainter echo from those on shore, the portadmiral's eight-oared boat was brought alongside of the quay, and out of it stepped the admiral himself, in full fig. He had been bidding adieu to some friends who were leaving for France, and had brought back with him a young lady whom a similar errand had taken on board the transport. The bystanders were much impressed by the majestic beauty of this pale lady, who stepped lightly on shore with the admiral's assistance, bowed gracefully to the gentlemen

in attendance, and, entering the carriage which was waiting for her, was presently whirled away in a thick cloud of dust. "A brave girl," remarked the admiral to one of his subordinates, taking off his cocked hat, and rubbing his head as he looked after her. "I wish there were more like her. Not but what, at such a time, a little more display of feeling would not have been amiss; but war makes the best of us hard-hearted. Come home to breakfast with me, and we will drink her health, and a safe return to the young marquis.'

young

"Did you remark that tall woman who has just driven away?" asked one of the loafers of his neighbor. "That is the sister of one de Mersac, a so-called marquis, who has engaged himself as a volunteer, and is going to get himself massacred over yonder. They tell me. she encouraged him to leave, though he is her only brother, and she has no other relations.

"The citoyenne has deserved well of the country," responded loafer number two, lifting his broad-leaved felt hat with a pompous gesture.

Pooh! she belongs to a breed which deserves nothing of the country but the guillotine. For my part, I should have respected her more as a woman if she could have spared a few tears for her brother, who will not lead a life of amusement, I promise you, while she is driving about in her well-cushioned carriage. But that is how they are made, these aristocrats ça n'a pas de cœur.

,,

These frank criticisms would hardly have disturbed Jeanne's composure if she could have overheard them. To be accused of insensibility was no new experience to her, nor was it her habit to trouble herself much about the judgment of outsiders, if only Léon did not misunderstand her. In truth, emotion with her seldom took the form of weeping; and though we have already more than once seen her affected in this way, it will have been observed that such exhibitions took place only in the strictest privacy, and were indeed attributable in part to shaken health, and in part, also, to the fact that, after all, she had lachrymal glands, like the rest of the world.

Now, while her little horses trotted up the slopes of Mustapha, she looked out upon the well-known landscape with dry

eyes, though her head was beginning to feel heavy, and there was a dull, gnawing pain at her heart. After a time she turned, and entered into conversation with the groom who sat behind her, asking him a great many questions about his horses, and giving him such minute instructions as to their treatment that he, too, albeit a faithful servant and profound admirer of his mistress, ended by joining in the general verdict, and wondered within himself how she could have the heart to occupy herself with such small details so soon. But, in truth, she was talking mechanically, and sometimes almost at random, being anxious chiefly to escape from her own thoughts, and being secretly a little frightened at the prospect of re-entering her silent, lonely home.

It was well for her that, when she reached it, M. de Fontvieille met her upon the threshold, holding his hat in one hand and an open letter in the other.

"Mademoiselle," said he, after, with his antiquated courtesy, he had assisted her to alight, and had offered her a trembling old arm to lead her into the house,

how long does a young lady require to pack up her clothes for a journey?"

"That depends. A week, perhaps, if it were necessary to get things done in a hurry; but I would rather have a fortnight, there are so many little matters to be seen to. You have heard from England again?"

"Tiens, tiens, tiens! a fortnight! And I who have telegraphed to this poor M. Ashley to say that you will join him at Marseilles in four days' time !"

"Impossible! I could never be ready. Are you so anxious, then, to get rid of me, monsieur ?''