hink better of the whole
world; tell your father that."

I closed the door and stole out softly, softly. But when I got into
the hall, Fanny suddenly opened the door of the breakfast parlor, and
seemed, by her look, her gesture, to invite me in. Her face was very
pale, and there were traces of tears on the heavy lids.

I stood still a moment, and my heart beat violently. I then muttered
something inarticulately, and, bowing low, hastened to the door.

I thought, but my ears might deceive me, that I heard my name
pronounced; but fortunately the tall porter started from his newspaper
and his leathern chair, and the entrance stood open. I joined my father.

"It's all over," said I, with a resolute smile. "And now, my dear
father, I feel how grateful I should be for all that your lessons--your
life--have taught me; for, believe me, I am not unhappy."

CHAPTER IV.

We came back to my father's house, and on the stairs we met my mother,
whom Roland's grave looks and her Austin's strange absence had alarmed.
My father quietly led the way to a little room which my mother had
appropriated to Blanche and herself, and then, placing my hand in that
which had helped his own steps from the stony path down the quiet vales
of life, he said to me: "Nature gives you here the soother;" and so
saying, he left the room.

And it was true, O my mother! that in thy simple, loving breast nature
did place the deep wells of comfort! We come to men for philosophy,--to
women for consolation. And the thousand weaknesses and regrets, the
sharp sands of the minutiae that make up sorrow,--all these, which
I could have betrayed to no man (not even to him, the dearest and
tenderest of all men), I showed without shame to thee! And thy tears,
that fell on my cheek, had the balm of Araby; and my heart at length lay
lulled and soothed under thy moist, gentle eyes.

I made an effort, and joined the little circle at dinner; and I felt
grateful that no violent attempt was made to raise my spirits,--nothing
but affection, more subdued and soft and tranquil. Even little Blanche,
as if by the intuition of sympathy, ceased her babble, and seemed to
hush her footstep as she crept to my side. But after dinner, when we had
reassembled in the drawing-room, and the lights shone bright, and the
curtains were let down, and only the quick roll of some passing wheels
reminded us that there was a world without, my father began to talk. He
had laid aside all his