none at all. He brings none with him
to-night, and shall bring none with him hereafter."

Olive rose suddenly, silently declined her mother's aid, and went alone
to their chamber in the half-story.

* * * * *

Madame Delphine wandered drearily from door to window, from window to
door, and presently into the newly-furnished front room which now seemed
dismal beyond degree. There was a great Argand lamp in one corner. How
she had labored that day to prepare it for evening illumination! A
little beyond it, on the wall, hung a crucifix. She knelt under it, with
her eyes fixed upon it, and thus silently remained until its outline was
undistinguishable in the deepening shadows of evening.

She arose. A few minutes later, as she was trying to light the lamp, an
approaching step on the sidewalk seemed to pause. Her heart stood
still. She softly laid the phosphorus-box out of her hands. A shoe
grated softly on the stone step, and Madame Delphine, her heart beating
in great thuds, without waiting for a knock, opened the door, bowed low,
and exclaimed in a soft perturbed voice:

"Miche Vignevielle!"

He entered, hat in hand, and with that almost noiseless tread which we
have noticed. She gave him a chair and closed the door; then hastened,
with words of apology, back to her task of lighting the lamp. But her
hands paused in their work again,--Olive's step was on the stairs; then
it came off the stairs; then it was in the next room, and then there was
the whisper of soft robes, a breath of gentle perfume, and a snowy
figure in the door. She was dressed for the evening.

"Maman?"

Madame Delphine was struggling desperately with the lamp, and at that
moment it responded with a tiny bead of light.

"I am here, my daughter."

She hastened to the door, and Olive, all unaware of a third presence,
lifted her white arms, laid them about her mother's neck, and, ignoring
her effort to speak, wrested a fervent kiss from her lips. The crystal
of the lamp sent out a faint gleam; it grew; it spread on every side;
the ceiling, the walls lighted up; the crucifix, the furniture of the
room came back into shape.

"Maman!" cried Olive, with a tremor of consternation.

"It is Miche Vignevielle, my daughter----"

The gloom melted swiftly away before the eyes of the startled maiden, a
dark form stood out against the farther wall, and the light, expanding
to the full, shone clearly upon the unmoving figure a