e day, peevishly.

"Patience, my dear friend, patience; perhaps she may return to-morrow."

"To-morrow! let me see, it is only six o'clock,--only six, you are
sure?"

"Just five, dear Eugene. Shall I read to you? This is a new book from
Paris; it has made a great noise," said Julie.

"You are very kind, but I will not trouble you."

"It is anything but trouble."

"In a word, then, I would rather not."

"Oh, that he could see!" thought Julie; "would I not punish him for
this!"

"I hear carriage wheels; who can be passing this way? Surely it is the
_voiturier_ from Bruxelles," said St. Amand, starting up; "it is his
day,--his hour, too. No, no, it is a lighter vehicle," and he sank down
listlessly on his seat.

Nearer and nearer rolled the wheels; they turned the corner; they
stopped at the lowly door; and, overcome, overjoyed, Lucille was clasped
to the bosom of St. Amand.

"Stay," said she, blushing, as she recovered her self-possession, and
turned to Le Kain; "pray pardon me, sir. Dear Eugene, I have brought
with me one who, by God's blessing, may yet restore you to sight."

"We must not be sanguine, my child," said Le Kain; "anything is better
than disappointment."

To close this part of my story, dear Gertrude, Le Kain examined St.
Amand, and the result of the examination was a confident belief in the
probability of a cure. St. Amand gladly consented to the experiment of
an operation; it succeeded, the blind man saw! Oh, what were Lucille's
feelings, what her emotion, what her joy, when she found the object of
her pilgrimage, of her prayers, fulfilled! That joy was so intense that
in the eternal alternations of human life she might have foretold from
its excess how bitter the sorrows fated to ensue.

As soon as by degrees the patient's new sense became reconciled to the
light, his first, his only demand was for Lucille. "No, let me not see
her alone; let me see her in the midst of you all, that I may convince
you that the heart never is mistaken in its instincts." With a fearful,
a sinking presentiment, Lucille yielded to the request, to which the
impetuous St. Amand would hear indeed no denial. The father, the
mother, Julie, Lucille, Julie's younger sisters, assembled in the
little parlour; the door opened, and St. Amand stood hesitating on the
threshold. One look around sufficed to him; his face brightened, he
uttered a cry of joy. "Lucille! Lucille!" he exclaimed, "it is you, I
know it, _you_