rily refused to occupy) she
prayed for good Aunt Rowe every night of her dull life, before she lay
upon her truckle bed to rest for the morrow's cheerful round of hard
duties. Was it likely that a child put thus into the harness of life,
would pass the talk of her aunt with Mr. Mohun as the idle wind?

The mysteries which lay in the talk, and perplexed her, were cleared up
in due time.

CHAPTER II.

HE'S HERE AGAIN!

"He has but stumbled in the path
Thou hast in weakness trod."--A. A. PROCTER.

"He's here again, Mum."

He was there at the servant's entrance to the highly respectable
boarding-house in the Rue Millevoye. It was five in the morning--a
winter's morning.

Mrs. Rowe hastened from her room, behind the business parlour, in her
dressing-gown, her teeth chattering, and her eyes flashing the fire of
hate. The boarders sleeping upstairs would not have known the godly
landlady, who glided about the house by day, rubbing her hands and
hoping every soul under her roof was comfortable--or would at once
complain to her, who lived only to make people comfortable--bills being
but mere accidental accessories, fortuitously concurrent with the
arrival of a cab and the descent of luggage.

"At the back door, mum, with his coat tucked over his ears, and such a
cold in his head. Shall I show him in?"

"My life is a long misery, Jane," Mrs. Rowe said, under her voice.

"La! mum, it's quite safe. I'm sure I shouldn't trouble much about
it--'specially in this country, as----"

"Silence!" Mrs. Rowe hissed. The thorns in her cross consisted chiefly
of Jane's awkward attempts at consolation. "The villain is bent on my
ruin. A bad boy he was; a bad man he is. Show him in; and see that
Francois doesn't come here. Get some coffee yourself, Jane, and bring
it. Let the brute in."

"You're hard upon him, mum, indeed you are. I'm sure he'd be a credit
to----"

"Go, and hold your tongue. You presume, Jane, on the privileges of an
old servant."

"Indeed I hope not, mum; but----"

"Go!"

Jane went to summon the early visitor; and was heard talking amiably to
him, as she led him to the bureau. "Now, you must be good, Mr. Charles,
to-day, and not stay more than a quarter of an hour. Don't talk loud,
like the last time; promise me. Missus means well--you know she does."

With an impatient "All right" the stranger pushed into the business
parlour, and sharply closed the door.

Mrs. Rowe stood, her knuckles fi