hbours, I felt for you all the regard due to one I
esteemed as a friend and brother. We mutually aided each other; you
shared with me all your Sunday amusements, and I did my very best to
look as well and be as gay and entertaining as I could, in order to show
how much I was gratified; so there again we were quits."

"Quits? Oh, no, no! I--"

"Now, do hold your tongue, and let me speak! I'm sure you have had all
the talk to yourself this long while. When you were obliged to quit the
house we lodged in, I felt more sorrow at your departure than I had ever
done before."

"Is it possible?"

"Yes, indeed, for all the other persons who had lived in your apartments
were careless creatures, whom I did not care a pin for; while you, from
the very first of our acquaintance, seemed just the sort of person I
wanted to be my neighbour, because you could understand that I wished us
to be good friends, and nothing more. Then you were so ready to pass all
your spare time with me, teaching me to write, giving me good advice,--a
little serious, to be sure, but all the better for that. You were ever
kind and good, yet never presumed upon it in any way; and even when
compelled to change your lodging, you confided to me a secret you would
not have trusted to any one else,--the name of your new abode; and that
made me so proud and happy, to think you should have so much reliance on
the silence and friendship of a giddy girl like myself. I used to think
of you so constantly that at last every other person seemed to be
banished from my recollection, and you alone to occupy my memory. Pray
don't turn away as if you did not believe me. You know I always speak
the truth."

"Indeed, indeed, I can scarcely believe that you were kind enough thus
to remember me."

"Oh, but I did, though; and I should have been very ungrateful had I
acted otherwise. Sometimes I used to say to myself, 'M. Germain is the
very nicest young man I know, though he is rather too serious at times;
but never mind that. If I had a friend whom I wished to be very, very
happy when she was married, I certainly should recommend her marrying M.
Germain, who would make just such a husband as a good wife deserves to
meet with.'"

"You remembered me then, it seems, for the sake of bestowing me on
another," murmured poor Germain, almost involuntarily.

"Yes, and I should have been delighted to have helped you to obtain a
good wife, because I felt a real and friendly interest