ar,--while over
him bent and blazed the young officer, whose entrance, a little while
before, nobody had heeded.

Spurning the prostrate body at his feet, he turned to Francesca, for it
was she, and stretched out his hand,--his left hand,--his only one. It
was time; all the heat, and passion, and color, had died out, and she
stood there shivering, a look of suffering in her face.

"Miss Ercildoune! you are ill,--you need the air,--allow me!" drawing
her hand through his arm, and taking her out with infinite deference and
care.

"Thank you! a moment's faintness,--it is over now," as they reached the
sidewalk.

"No, no, you are too ill to walk,--let me get you a carriage."

Hailing one that was passing by, he put her in, his hand lingering on
hers, lingering on the folds of her dress as he bent to arrange it; his
eyes clinging to her face with a passionate, woeful tenderness. "It is
two years since I saw you, since I have heard from you," he said, his
voice hoarse with the effort to speak quietly.

"Yes," she answered, "it is two years." Stooping her head to write upon
a card, her lips moved as if they said something,--something that
seemed like "I must! only once!" but of course that could not be. "It is
my address," she then said, putting the card in his hand. "I shall be
happy to see you in my own home."

"This afternoon?" eagerly.

She hesitated. "Whenever you may call. I thank you again,--and good
morning."

Meanwhile the car had moved on its course: outwardly, peaceful enough;
inwardly, full of commotion. The conservative gentleman, gathering
himself up from his prone estate, white with passion and chagrin, saw
about him everywhere looks of scorn, and smiles of derision and
contempt, and fled incontinently from the sight.

His coal-heaving _confrere_, left to do battle alone, came to the charge
valiant and unterrified. Another outbreak of blasphemy and obscenity
were the weapons of assault; the ladies looked shocked, the gentlemen
indignant and disgusted.

"Friend," called the non-resistant broad-brim, beckoning peremptorily to
the conductor,--"friend, come here."

The conductor came.

"If colored persons are not permitted to ride, I suppose it is equally
against the rules of the company to allow nuisances in their cars. Isn't
it?"

"You are right, sir," assented the conductor, upon whose face a smile of
comprehension began to beam.

"Well, I don't know what thee thinks, or what these other peop