The
fire flared with a merry roar, and there was a look of happiness about
the little dining-room, with its bright mahogany and gleaming china.
But the old stupor which drove away all thought seemed to have again
fallen on Helene; she ate mechanically, though with an appearance of
appetite. Jeanne sat facing her, and quietly watched her over her
glass, noting each of her movements. But all at once the child again
coughed, and her mother, who had become unconscious of her presence,
immediately displayed lively concern.

"Why, you're coughing again! Aren't you getting warm?"

"Oh, yes, mamma; I'm very warm."

Helene leaned towards her to feel her hand and ascertain whether she
was speaking the truth. Only then did she perceive that her plate was
still full.

"Why, you said you were hungry. Don't you like what you have there?"

"Oh, yes, mamma; I'm eating away."

With an effort Jeanne swallowed a mouthful. Helene looked at her for a
time, but soon again began dreaming of the fatal room which she had
come from. It did not escape the child that her mother took little
interest in her now. As the dinner came to an end, her poor wearied
frame sank down on the chair, and she sat there like some bent, aged
woman, with the dim eyes of one of those old maids for whom love is
past and gone.

"Won't mademoiselle have any jam?" asked Rosalie. "If not, can I
remove the cloth?"

Helene still sat there with far-away looks.

"Mamma, I'm sleepy," exclaimed Jeanne in a changed voice. "Will you
let me go to bed? I shall feel better in bed."

Once more her mother seemed to awake with a start to consciousness of
her surroundings.

"You are suffering, my darling! where do you feel the pain? Tell me."

"No, no; I told you I'm all right! I'm sleepy, and it's already time
for me to go to bed."

She left her chair and stood up, as though to prove that there was no
illness threatening her: but her benumbed feet tottered over the floor
on her way to the bedroom. She leaned against the furniture, and her
hardihood was such that not a tear came from her, despite the feverish
fire darting through her frame. Her mother followed to assist her to
bed; but the child had displayed such haste in undressing herself that
she only arrived in time to tie up her hair for the night. Without
need of any helping hand Jeanne slipped between the sheets, and
quickly closed her eyes.

"Are you comfortable?" asked Helene, as she drew up the bedclothes a