unced a word and she corrected him he
bowed his thanks, repeating it after her.

"Ah, you are _charmant_, Monsieur Harry, you have not forgotten your
manners any more than the language of La Belle France, which I will
continue to teach you whenever you will come and take a lesson with
Mademoiselle Julia. When will you come?"

"Every day that I am at home till my country requires my services,"
answered Harry.

"I never learned French, but I should think it must be a very difficult
language to acquire," observed a pale middle-aged lady of slight figure
who sat opposite Harry, turning her eyes towards him, but those orbs
were of a dull leaden hue, the eyelids almost closed. She was totally
blind.

Her features were beautifully formed, and had a peculiarly sweet and
gentle expression, though the pallor of her cheeks betokened ill-health.

"I will help you to begin, Miss Mary, while you are here, and then you
can go on by yourself," said Madame De La Motte, in her usual sprightly
way.

"I thank you, madame," answered Miss Mary Pemberton, "but I am dependent
on others. Jane has no fancy for languages, and her time is much
occupied in household matters and others of still higher importance."

"Yes, indeed, Mary speaks truly," observed Miss Pemberton, a lady of a
somewhat taller and not quite so slight a figure as her sister, and who,
though her features had a pleasant expression, could not, even in her
youth, have possessed the same amount of beauty. She always took her
seat next to Mary, that she might give her that attention which her
deprivation of sight required. "While we have such boundless stores of
works on all important subjects in our own language, we waste our time
by spending it in acquiring another."

"Very right, my good cousin, very right," exclaimed Sir Reginald; "stick
to our good English books, for at the present day, what with their
republicanism, their infidelity, and their abominable notions, we can
expect nothing but what is bad from French writers."

"Pardonnez moi, Sir Reginald," exclaimed Madame De La Motte, breaking
off the conversation in which she was engaged with Harry, and looking up
briskly. "Surely la pauvre France has produced some pure and religious
writers, and many works on science worthy of perusal."

"I beg ten thousand pardons, madame, I forgot that a French lady was
present. I was thinking more of the murderous red republicans who have
cut off the heads of their lawful