e to her mother, she had addressed her,
and soon gleaned her whole history; that then she had adopted her to her
childless heart as her own, and hurried her away with her, not having
time to allow her to communicate the change to any of her friends; hence
the long and hitherto unexplained mystery and silence which had so
distressed and harassed Guly. They had returned but a few evenings
before, and to-day, Blanche, happening to catch sight of her old
acquaintance the dwarf, in the street, had seized that opportunity of
communicating to him their arrival, and treating him, she hoped, to a
joyful surprise.

It was late before Guly parted from his kind friends, and when he did,
it was with a sigh of regret for his own fate, though he could not help
rejoicing in his generous heart at Blanche's good fortune. As the pretty
and innocent brodeuse, he had hoped to win and wear her as his own; but
as the adopted daughter of one of the wealthiest ladies in the Crescent
City, accomplished, rich, polished, and refined, this Blanche he dared
not, could not hope to win. It was a height to which he, a poor salaried
clerk, could never aspire.

With a heavy heart he wended his way through the star-lit streets,
dreaming of the days of the blind grandsire, and the little work-table
at which he used to thread needles for Blanche, and wondering if those
times ever would return.

CHAPTER XLI.

"Hast thou loved in the good man's path to tread,
And bend o'er the sufferer's lowly bed?
Hast thou sought on the buoyant wings of prayer
A peace which the faithless may not share?
Do thy hopes all tend to the spirit land,
And the love of a bright unspotted band?
Are these thy treasures?"----

It was twilight, and Mr. Delancey was sitting at his high desk, with his
eyes looking thoughtfully out from under his pale brow. Changes had come
upon him, and it was evident that though the strong will was there, the
fire of that stern pride that once glowed there was crushed out, and
burned now only in a few smouldering embers. Cholera had taken his wife
from his side, and he inhabited the great house on Apollo-street, a
desolate and childless old man.

"Gulian," said he, as the boy approached him with a bow, "how is it that
you always can succeed in preserving your amiability and politeness
under all circumstances? I cannot understand."

"Simply, sir," replied Guly, with a smile, "by remembering the one
great law w