y,
the silent house, and the gentle footfall of Cecile.

He was so happy that he rarely spoke, and contented himself with
watching the movements of the dear presence that pervaded the simple
home. She sewed and kept her grandfather's accounts.

"I am sure," she said, looking up from her book, "that the dear man
forgets half his visits. Did you notice what he said yesterday, Jack?"

"Mademoiselle!" he answered, with a start.

He had not heard one word, although he had been watching her with all
his eyes. If Cecile said, "My friend," it seemed to Jack that no
other person had ever so called him; and when she said farewell, or
good-night, his heart contracted as if he were never to see her again.
Her slightest words were full of meaning, and her simple, unaffected
ways were a delight to the youth. In his state of convalescence he was
more susceptible to these influences than he would ordinarily have been.

O, the delicious days he spent in that blessed home! The office, a
large, deserted room, with white curtains at the windows opening on a
village street, communicated to him its healthful calm. The room
was filled with the odors of plants culled in the splendor of their
flowering, and he drank it in with delight.

In the scent of the balsam he heard the rushing of the clear brooks in
the forest, and the woods were green and shady, when he caught the odor
of the herbs gathered from the foot of the tall oaks.

With returning strength Jack tried to read; he turned over the old
volumes, and found those in which he had studied so long before, and
which he could now far better comprehend. The doctor was out nearly all
day, and the two young people remained alone. This would have horrified
many a prudent mother, and, of course, had Madame Rivals been living, it
would not have been permitted; but the doctor was a child himself, and
then, who knows? he may have had his own plans.

Meanwhile D'Argenton, informed of Jack's removal to the Rivals, saw fit
to take great offence. "It is not at all proper," wrote Charlotte, "that
you should remain there. People will think us unwilling to give you the
care you need? You place us in a false position."

This letter failing to produce any effect, the poet wrote himself:--"I
sent Hirsch to cure you, but you preferred a country idiot to the
science of our friend! As you call yourself better, I give you now two
days to return to Aulnettes. If you are not there at the expiration
of tha