Her cheek flushed, but without a reply she left the room, and
descended the steps which led to Madame ----'s parlor. Reaching the
door, she drew herself proudly up, then knocked.

"Come in," was the response.

She did so. In the center of the apartment, with an open book on the
table before him, sat the teacher who officiated at prayers. He rose
and bowed coldly in answer to her salutation.

"Pardon my intrusion, Mr. Stewart. I expected to find Madame here."

"She has gone to spend the morning with an invalid sister, and
requested me to take charge of her classes, in addition to my own. If
I can render you any assistance, Miss Hamilton, I am at your service."

"Thank you, I am in need of no assistance, and merely wished to say to
Madame that I should leave New Orleans to-morrow, having heard from my
father that he will be here in the evening boat."

"I will inform her of your intended departure as early as possible."

"You will oblige me by doing so," replied Florence, turning to go.

"Miss Hamilton, may I ask you if your cousin accompanies you?"

"She does," was the laconic answer, and slowly she retraced her steps,
and stood at her own door. The cheeks had become colorless, and the
delicate lips writhed with pain. She paused a moment, then entered.

"Did you see her, Florry?"

"No, she is absent, but I left word for her."

Her tone was hard, dry, as though she had been striving long for some
goal, which, when nearly attained, her failing strength was scarce
able to grasp. It was the echo of a fearful struggle that had raged in
her proud bosom. The knell it seemed of expiring exertion, of sinking
resistance. Mary gazed sadly on her cousin, who stood mechanically
smoothing her glossy black hair. The haughty features seemed chiseled
in marble, so cold, stony was the expression.

"Dear Florry! you look harassed and weary already. Why, why will you
overtask your strength, merely to be called a disciple of Zeno? Surely
you cannot seriously desire so insignificant an honor, if it merits
that title?"

"Can, you, then, see no glory in crushing long-cherished hopes--nay,
when your heart is yearning toward some 'bright particular' path,
to turn without one symptom of regret, and calmly tread one just the
opposite! Tell me, can you perceive nothing elevating in this Stoical
command?"

The cold, vacant look had passed away; her dark eyes gleamed,
glittered as with anticipated triumph.

"Florry, I do not understa