r, and then, after a good wash, to
prepare a meal. His sleep had restored his energy, and with brisk
steps he made his way through the streets to Louise Moulin. He
knocked with his knuckles at the outer door of her apartments. The
old nurse opened it quietly.

"Come in," she said, "and sit down. They are in their room, and
I think they have cried themselves to sleep. My heart has been
breaking all day to see them. It has been dreadful. Poor little
Virginie cried terribly, and sobbed for hours; but it was a long
time before the others cried. Marie fainted, and when I got her
round lay still and quiet without speaking. Jeanne was worst of
all. She sat on that chair with her eyes staring open and her face
as white as if she were dead. She did not seem to hear anything I
said; but at last, when Virginie's sobs were stopping, I began to
talk to her about her mother and her pretty ways when she was a
child, and then at last Jeanne broke down, and she cried so wildly
that I was frightened, and then Marie cried too; and after a while
I persuaded them all to lie down; and as I have not heard a sound
for the last hour I hope the good God has sent them all to sleep."

"I trust so indeed, Louise. I will stay here quietly for an hour,
and then if we hear nothing I will go home, and be back again in
the morning. Sleep will do more for them than anything I can say."

At the end of an hour all was still quiet, and Harry with a somewhat
lightened heart took his departure.

At nine o'clock next morning he was again at the house. When he
entered Virginie ran to him, and throwing her arms round his neck
again burst into a passion of tears. Harry felt that this was the
best thing that could have happened, for the others were occupied
for some time in trying to soothe her, crying quietly to themselves
while they did so. At last her sobs became less violent.

"And now, Harry," Marie said, turning to him, "will you tell us
all about it?"

"I will tell you only that your dear father and mother died, as
you might be sure they would, calmly and fearlessly, and that they
suffered but little. More than that I cannot tell you now. Some day
farther on, when you can bear it, I will tell you of the events of
the last forty-eight hours. At present I myself dare not think of
it, and it would harm you to know it.

"Do not, I pray you, ask me any questions now. We must think of
the future. Fortunately you passed unsuspected the last time they
se