she again passed through Louvain, and she soon found herself
by the noble edifice of the Hotel de Ville. Proud rose its spires
against the sky, and the sun shone bright on its rich tracery and
Gothic casements; the broad open street was crowded with persons of all
classes, and it was with some modest alarm that Lucille lowered her veil
and mingled with the throng. It was easy, as the priest had said, to
find the house of Le Kain; she bade the servant take the priest's letter
to his master, and she was not long kept waiting before she was admitted
to the physician's presence. He was a spare, tall man, with a bald
front, and a calm and friendly countenance. He was not less touched
than the priest had been by the manner in which she narrated her
story, described the affliction of her betrothed, and the hope that had
inspired the pilgrimage she had just made.

"Well," said he, encouragingly, "we must see our patient. You can bring
him hither to me."

"Ah, sir, I had hoped--" Lucille stopped suddenly.

"What, my young friend?"

"That I might have had the triumph of bringing you to Malines. I know,
sir, what you are about to say, and I know, sir, your time must be very
valuable; but I am not so poor as I seem, and Eugene, that is, M. St.
Amand, is very rich, and--and I have at Bruxelles what I am sure is
a large sum; it was to have provided for the wedding, but it is most
heartily at your service, sir."

Le Kain smiled; he was one of those men who love to read the human
heart when its leaves are fair and undefiled; and, in the benevolence
of science, he would have gone a longer journey than from Louvain to
Malines to give sight to the blind, even had St. Amand been a beggar.

"Well, well," said he, "but you forget that M. St. Amand is not the only
one in the world who wants me. I must look at my notebook, and see if I
can be spared for a day or two."

So saying, he glanced at his memoranda. Everything smiled on Lucille; he
had no engagements that his partner could not fulfil, for some days; he
consented to accompany Lucille to Malines.

Meanwhile, cheerless and dull had passed the time to St. Amand. He was
perpetually asking Madame le Tisseur what hour it was,--it was almost
his only question. There seemed to him no sun in the heavens, no
freshness in the air, and he even forbore his favourite music; the
instrument had lost its sweetness since Lucille was not by to listen.

It was natural that the gossips of Malines