he
party is reported as having been surprised and massacred to a
man--to-morrow there has been a great fight, many killed, the result in
doubt--next day the British are defeated, and so on. The volatile
spirit of the Creoles fairly surpassed itself in ringing the changes on
stirring rumors.

Alice scarcely left the house during the whole period of excitement and
suspense. Like a wounded bird, she withdrew herself from the light and
noisy chatter of her friends, seeking only solitude and crepuscular
nooks in which to suffer silently. Jean brought her every picturesque
bit of the ghastly gossip, thus heaping coals on the fire of her
torture. But she did not grow pale and thin. Not a dimple fled from
cheek or chin, not a ray of saucy sweetness vanished from her eyes. Her
riant health was unalterable. Indeed, the only change in her was a
sudden ripening and mellowing of her beauty, by which its colors, its
lines, its subtle undercurrents of expression were spiritualized, as if
by some powerful clarifying process.

Tremendous is the effect of a soul surprised by passion and brought
hard up against an opposing force which dashes it back upon itself with
a flare and explosion of self-revealment. Nor shall we ever be able to
foretell just how small a circumstance, just how slight an exigency,
will suffice to bring on the great change. The shifting of a smile to
the gloom of a frown, the snap of a string on the lute of our
imagination, just at the point when a rich melody is culminating; the
waving of a hand, a vanishing face--any eclipse of tender, joyous
expectation--dashes a nameless sense of despair into the soul. And a
young girl's soul--who shall uncover its sacred depths of
sensitiveness, or analyze its capacity for suffering under such a
stroke?

On the fifth day of March, back came the victorious Helm, having
surrounded and captured seven boats, richly loaded with provisions and
goods, and Dejean's whole force. Then again the little Creole town went
wild with rejoicing. Alice heard the news and the noise; but somehow
there was no response in her heart. She dreaded to meet Beverley;
indeed, she did not expect him to come to her. Why should he?

M. Roussillon, who had volunteered to accompany Helm, arrived in a mood
of unlimited proportions, so far as expressing self-admiration and
abounding delight was concerned. You would have been sure that he had
done the whole deed single-handed, and brought the flotilla and
ca