ld them so unsparingly. I half ridiculed them.
I was severe. The truth was, I could not do with their tears, or that
gasping sound; I could not bear it. A rather weak-minded, low-spirited
pupil kept it up when the others had done; relentless necessity obliged
and assisted me so to accost her, that she dared not carry on the
demonstration, that she was forced to conquer the convulsion.

That girl would have had a right to hate me, except that, when school
was over and her companions departing, I ordered her to stay, and when
they were gone, I did what I had never done to one among them
before--pressed her to my heart and kissed her cheek. But, this impulse
yielded to, I speedily put her out of the classe, for, upon that
poignant strain, she wept more bitterly than ever.

I filled with occupation every minute of that day, and should have
liked to sit up all night if I might have kept a candle burning; the
night, however, proved a bad time, and left bad effects, preparing me
ill for the next day's ordeal of insufferable gossip. Of course this
news fell under general discussion. Some little reserve had accompanied
the first surprise: that soon wore off; every mouth opened; every
tongue wagged; teachers, pupils, the very servants, mouthed the name of
"Emanuel." He, whose connection with the school was contemporary with
its commencement, thus suddenly to withdraw! All felt it strange.

They talked so much, so long, so often, that, out of the very multitude
of their words and rumours, grew at last some intelligence. About the
third day I heard it said that he was to sail in a week; then--that he
was bound for the West Indies. I looked at Madame Beck's face, and into
her eyes, for disproof or confirmation of this report; I perused her
all over for information, but no part of her disclosed more than what
was unperturbed and commonplace.

"This secession was an immense loss to her," she alleged. "She did not
know how she should fill up the vacancy. She was so used to her
kinsman, he had become her right hand; what should she do without him?
She had opposed the step, but M. Paul had convinced her it was his
duty."

She said all this in public, in classe, at the dinner-table, speaking
audibly to Zelie St. Pierre.

"Why was it his duty?" I could have asked her that. I had impulses to
take hold of her suddenly, as she calmly passed me in classe, to
stretch out my hand and grasp her fast, and say, "Stop. Let us hear the
conclus