at the open window, shivered from head to foot, and her hand
dashed away a tear. Was she watching in that western sky the fading away
of all her dreams, her illusions, and her hopes?

"Then must I go away?" asked the child, faintly.

The men smiled pityingly, and from the window came a great sob.

"In a week we will go, my boy," said Labassandre, cheeringly. But
D'Argenton, with a frown directed to the window, said, "You can leave
the room now, and be ready for your journey in a week."

Jack ran down the stairs, and out into the village street, and did
not stop to take breath until he reached the house of Dr. Rivals, who
listened to his story with indignation.

"It is preposterous!" he cried. "The very idea of making a mechanic of
you is absurd. I will see your father at once."

The persons who saw the two pass through the street--the doctor
gesticulating, and little Jack without a hat--concluded that some one
must be ill at Aulnettes. This was not the case, however; for Dr. Rivals
heard loud talking and laughing as he entered the house, and Charlotte,
as she descended the stairs, was singing a bar from the last opera.

"I wish to say a few words in private to you, sir," said Mr. Rivals.

"We are among friends," answered D'Argenton, "and have no secrets. You
have something to say, I suppose, in regard to Jack. These gentlemen
know all that I have done for him, my motives, and the peculiar
circumstances of the case."

"But, my friend "--Charlotte said, timidly, fearing the explanation that
was forthcoming.

"Go on, doctor," interrupted the poet, sternly.

"Jack has just told me that you have apprenticed him to the Forge at
Indret. This, of course, is a mistake on his part."

"Not in the least, sir."

"But you can have no conception of the child's nature, nor of his
constitution. It is his health, his very existence, with which you are
trifling. I assure you, madame," he continued, turning toward Charlotte,
"that your child could not endure such a life. I am speaking now simply
of his physique. Mentally and spiritually, he is equally unfitted for
it."

"You are mistaken, doctor," interrupted D'Argen-ton; "I know the boy
better than you possibly can. He is only fit for manual labor, and now
that I offer him the opportunity of earning his daily bread in this
way, of exercising the one talent he may have, he goes to you and makes
complaints of me."

Jack tried to excuse himself. His friend bade him be sile