self an actor in the story, and one whose part is nearly at an end. Two stories in height, walls of a warm yellow, tiles of an ancient ruddy brown di

aning tower, and one of the former proprietors had buttressed the building from that side with a great strut of wood, like the derrick of a crane. Altogether, it had many marks of ruin; it was a house for the rats to desert; and nothing but its excellent brightness-the window-glass polished and shining, the paint well scoured, the brasses radiant, the very prop all wreathed about with climbing flowers-nothing but its air of a well-tended, smiling veteran, sitting, crutch and all, in the sunny corner of a garden, marked it as a house for comfortable people to inhabit. In poor or idle management i

rer their hearts. Jean-Marie was plainly not himself. He had fits of hectic activity, when he made unusual exertions to please, spoke more and faster, and re

he treasure, the little annoyance about Casimir's incivility, would long ago have been forgotten. As it is, they prey upon him like a disease. He los

m too much?' asked madame, w

octor; 'I drug? Ana

nd was pretty soon under treatment himself-it scarcely appeared for what complaint. He and Jean-Marie had each medicine to take at different periods of the day. The Doctor used to lie in wait for the exact m

ead; raking gleams of sunlight swept the village, and were followed by intervals of darkness and white, flying rain. At times the

noting their effect upon the human pulse. 'For the true philosopher,' he remarked delightedly, 'every fact in nature is a toy.' A letter came to him; but, as its arrival coincide

if with batteries of cannon; the houses shook and groaned; live coals were blown upon the floor.

t up. A noise still rang in his ears, but whether of this world or the world of dreams he was not certain. Another clap of wind followed. It was accompanied by a sickening mov

aring apparel into her hands; 'the

meanwhile, with the speed of a piece of pantomime business, and undeterred by broken shins, proceeded to rout out Jean-Marie, tore Aline from

the wind in a raffle of flying drapery, and not without a considerable need for more. At the humiliating spectacle Anastasie clutched her nightdress desperately about her and bu

ed, a crash which triumphed over the shouting of the wind announced its fall, and for a moment the whole garden was alive with skipping tiles and

the party, and the Doctor answered, nobly contending against Aline and the tempest

coming,' she screamed

so,' he

would rather d

y, 'you are excited. I gave you some

have thrown them away! Wh

able!' he remarked; 'my grey velveteen trous

nds her mood appeared to alter-she stood silent for a moment, and then press

t any rate, she is a peasant. Now I am really concerned at this exposure for a person of your housekeeping habi

u do not understand,'

there was that very picturesque contrivance-a common well; the door on the Desprez' side had chanced to be unbolted, and now, through the arched aperture a man's bearded face and an arm supporting a lantern were introduced into the world of windy

line, still screaming, ran to the new comer, and w

e on; it is your tur

t,' she

exposure, madame?' thu

'Oh, go, go away! I can s

her by the shoul

reamed. 'I wil

t her repulsion was stronger than shame. 'Never!' she cr

er eyes and appeared to herself to be about to die. How she was transported through the arch she knew not

ad followed another, the joints had opened, the plaster had cracked, the old walls bowed inward; last, not three weeks ago, the cellar door had begun to work with difficulty in its grooves. 'The cellar!' he said, gravely shaking his head over a glass of mulled wine. 'That reminds me of my poor vintages. By a manifest providence the Hermitage was nearly at an end. One bottle-I lose but one b

twilight of the morning, beat upon their breasts and blew into their hands for warmth. The house had entirely fallen, the walls outward, the roof in; it was a mere heap of rubbish, with here and there a forlorn spear of broken rafter. A

fully little; that blow had been parried by another; and in her mind she was continually fighting over again the battle of the trousers. Had she done right? Had she done wrong? And now she would applaud her determination; and anon, with a horrid flush of unavailing penitence, she would regret the trousers. No juncture in her life had so much exercised her judgment. In the meantime the Doctor ha

alone are hipped. About a house-a few dresses? What are they in comparison to the "Pharmacopoeia"-the labour of years lying buried below stones and sticks in this depressing hamlet? The snow falls; I shake it from my cloak! Imitate me. Our income will be impaired, I grant it, since we must rebuild; but moderation, patience, and philosophy wi

the memory of so public a humiliation.' The Doctor could not restrain a titter. 'Pardon me, darling,' he said; 'b

!' she

d consented to indue-à propos,' he broke off, 'and my trousers! They are lyi

the inn with a spade under one arm and

uced a piece of paper. 'A letter! ay, now I mind me; it was received on the morning of the gale, when I was absorbed in delicate investigations. It is still legible. From po

et letter; but, as he bent himself to deciphe

ried, with a

o the fire, and the Doctor's cap wa

run,' he cried. 'It is always late.

is wrong?' cr

s, for the second time in seven years; he had gone to Paris with a pair of wooden shoes, a knitted spencer, a black blouse, a country nightcap, and twe