nence of this mockery should not have been detected, but happily for Almeria the count did not perceive it, and passed on with an amiable bow and smile.

"Almeria!" exclaimed Madame de St. Clair, reddening with anger, "this passes all limits. The Comte de B is a particular friend of mine, and it is intolerable to see him ridiculed to his face!"

"And it is precisely because you have ascrib-ed that title to him," returned Almeria, laughing, "that I amus-ed myself, and fear-ed not, but push-ed my remark to the verge of impertinence, that his friend might be amaz-ed, vex-ed, annoy-ed and enrag-ed at the wit I reveal-ed."

Madame de St. Clair was too angry to remonstrate. She rose and walked to the supper-room. Almeria followed her, still laughing.

“I have vow-ed that I will not be quarrel-ed with,” she said, "and as I have perceiv-ed that you are distress-ed, the subject shall be dropp-ed and dismiss-ed. You shall be cajol-ed, caress-ed, kiss-ed, and charm-ed, until the evil spirit in me is exorcis-ed, and the count aveng-ed."

Reginald found himself compelled to escort Madame de St. Clair to the supper-room; but once arrived there, he found an acquaintance to whom he delegated his office, and to the great disappointment of Almeria, when her friend returned to the salon, she was accompanied by another escort. The cavalier she had hoped to delay by her ingenious expedient had passed quietly through a side-door in the supperroom, and made his escape.

8

CHAPTER XIV.

THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY.

66

THE few last chapters having been exclusively occupied with the gay and brilliant scenes of society, it may have been imagined that Mr. Melville and his family had followed the example often set by the strangers who flock to this seductive metropolis, and that they had left all serious thoughts behind them, to be resumed at a more convenient season." This would be doing them great injustice; for while they accepted the elegant hospitalities amiably and graciously extended to them, and while they availed themselves of every suitable occasion to gratify a rational curiosity in seeing all that would liberalize the mind or cultivate the taste, they found such course not inconsistent with holier and more impor tant duties.

One of their first inquiries on their arrival in the capital was for a place of worship, and three were indicated. All honor be ascribed to the piety of that nation which has established these chapels throughout the continent of Europe! Amid the gorgeous cathe drals of cities, in remote districts, in the region of the

snow-clad Alps, these temples rise, inviting the sympathizing stranger to their courts, and offering wells of "living water" to quench the thirst of the wearied pilgrim in life's wilderness, like the "streams in the desert."

At this epoch, one of these chapels was to be found in the midst of a large garden in the Champs Elysées. It had once been dedicated to a less holy purpose, for the garden had been a resort of pleasure, and the chapel a public ball-room. But pious hands had wrought a change there which is sometimes seen in the human heart, and all that was beautiful was dedicated to holy purposes, renewed and changed, but not destroyed. The garden had been carefully preserved, and gave an air of seclusion to the spot, that was doubly grateful in escaping from the noisy gambols of the throngs who make the day designed to be one of holy rest, a day of ceaseless and tumultuous excitement, which they miscall pleasure.

It was a strange transition in turning from the avenue of the Champs Elysées, where thousands of people were driving or walking, where itinerant confectioners and mountebanks were blocking up the passage of brilliant equipages or gay young horsemen, where mimic ships were sailing on imaginary waves in the air, or regiments of soldiers, preceded by military bands, were marching in long array, to take refuge in this peaceful spot, and shut the door upon the rushing torrent of life without.

In this quiet sanctuary Mr. Melville and his family found a resting-place and a home for the devotional hours of each Sunday, and the pleasing aspect of the

young pastor, Mr. Montague, gave them promise of an interesting addition to their society. Their constant attendance at his chapel awakened the wish, on his side, of forming their acquaintance, and he called with Mrs. Montague to pay his respects.

"She

Mr. Melville's family were absent on the morning of their visit, but the call was promptly returned. On inquiring for Mrs. Montague, Mrs. Melville was informed that Mrs. Montague was indisposed. The next day, and the next, inquiries were made. was ill-very ill, was the reply. Sunday came, and the pastor was replaced by another. The mournful countenances of his sympathizing flock revealed the sad truth. He had just received the last breath of his sainted partner-she was dead!

The second Sunday after this melancholy event, the young pastor was again in his accustomed place, though his pale cheek and dimmed eye showed but too plainly the sufferings he had undergone in that terrible interval. He looked composed and resigned; but during his discourse the fortitude of the Christian yielded for a moment to the weakness of nature; and when a lovely infant bearing his own features in miniature was brought to the font to be baptized, the sympathy of the whole assembly manifested itself in tears and even sobs.

With an effort almost convulsive, he recovered his firmness and voice, and as with a flushed cheek and tearful eye he pronounced the words "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord!" his hearers felt that it would be almost sinful to regret the early departure of this young saint, who had thus been enabled to

fortify her dearest earthly friend, and lead him to submit without a murmur to the heaviest of afflictions, in assuring him that she was only "going to prepare a place for him."

Thus vanished the hope Mr. Melville and his family had entertained of forming a friendship that might have grown to intimacy; for after a few months' trial, the position, with its associations, became too painful to be endured, and Mr. Montague, finding that his health was failing, resigned his charge to another, and left the metropolis.

The events recorded in these three pages had occupied three months, for that space of time had elapsed since Mr. Melville and his family first sought out Mr. Montague's chapel, and formed his acquaintance. His farewell visit had just been paid, and a fervent English "God bless you!" exchanged. Mrs. Melville and Constance, saddened by the recollection of his sorrows, as well as their own deprivation in the loss of his society, were sitting together in the room which was habitually, at that hour, dedicated to the instructions of Madame Laval.

Madame Laval, always punctual to the moment, came at her appointed time; but a single glance at her usually bright face told that, instead of bringing with her cheerfulness and consolation, she was even sadder than themselves, and that something had evidently occurred to agitate and grieve her. The recitations of her pupils were completed; and until this morning, a gay and animated conversation had always succeeded these exercises, forming the most agreeable as well as instructive part of her lessons.