the string, and was at play
with his kind in a distant quarter of the town, leaving the blind man to
seek his way as he might to his solitary inn.

By and by a light step passed through the street, and the young
stranger's face brightened.

"Pardon me," said he, turning to the spot where his quick ear had
caught the sound, "and direct me, if you are not much pressed for a few
moments' time, to the hotel 'Mortier d'Or.'"

It was a young woman, whose dress betokened that she belonged to the
middling class of life, whom he thus addressed. "It is some distance
hence, sir," said she; "but if you continue your way straight on for
about a hundred yards, and then take the second turn to your right
hand--"

"Alas!" interrupted the stranger, with a melancholy smile, "your
direction will avail me little; my dog has deserted me, and I am blind!"

There was something in these words, and in the stranger's voice, which
went irresistibly to the heart of the young woman. "Pray forgive me,"
she said, almost with tears in her eyes, "I did not perceive your--"
misfortune, she was about to say, but she checked herself with an
instinctive delicacy. "Lean upon me, I will conduct you to the door;
nay, sir," observing that he hesitated, "I have time enough to spare, I
assure you."

The stranger placed his hand on the young woman's arm; and though
Lucille was naturally so bashful that even her mother would laughingly
reproach her for the excess of a maiden virtue, she felt not the least
pang of shame, as she found herself thus suddenly walking through the
streets of Malines along with a young stranger, whose dress and air
betokened him of rank superior to her own.

"Your voice is very gentle," said he, after a pause; "and that," he
added, with a slight sigh, "is the only criterion by which I know the
young and the beautiful!" Lucille now blushed, and with a slight mixture
of pain in the blush, for she knew well that to beauty she had no
pretension. "Are you a native of this town?" continued he.

"Yes, sir; my father holds a small office in the customs, and my mother
and I eke out his salary by making lace. We are called poor, but we do
not feel it, sir."

"You are fortunate! there is no wealth like the heart's
wealth,--content," answered the blind man, mournfully.

"And, monsieur," said Lucille, feeling angry with herself that she had
awakened a natural envy in the stranger's mind, and anxious to change
the subject--"and, monsieur,