d in a whisper to Isaura, "My
imagination does not carry me further than to wonder whether this day
twelvemonth--the 8th of July-we two shall both be singling out that same
star, and gazing on it as now, side by side."

This was the sole utterance of that sentiment in which the romance of
love is so rich that the Englishman addressed to Isaura during those
memorable summer days at Enghien.

CHAPTER V.

The next morning the party broke up. Letters had been delivered both to
Savarin and to Graham, which, even had the day for departure not been
fixed, would have summoned them away. On reading his letter, Savarin's
brow became clouded. He made a sign to his wife after breakfast, and
wandered away with her down an alley in the little garden. His trouble
was of that nature which a wife either soothes or aggravates, according
sometimes to her habitual frame of mind, sometimes to the mood of
temper in which she may chance to be,--a household trouble, a pecuniary
trouble.

Savarin was by no means an extravagant man. His mode of living, though
elegant and hospitable, was modest compared to that of many French
authors inferior to himself in the fame which at Paris brings a very
good return in francs; but his station itself as the head of a powerful
literary clique necessitated many expenses which were too congenial to
his extreme good-nature to be regulated by strict prudence. His hand was
always open to distressed writers and struggling artists, and his sole
income was derived from his pen and a journal in which he was chief
editor and formerly sole proprietor. But that journal had of late
not prospered. He had sold or pledged a considerable share in the
proprietorship. He had been compelled also to borrow a sum large for
him, and the debt obtained from a retired bourgeois who lent out his
moneys "by way," he said, "of maintaining an excitement and interest
in life," would in a few days become due. The letter was not from that
creditor; but it was from his publisher, containing a very disagreeable
statement of accounts, pressing for settlement, and declining an offer
of Savarin for a new book (not yet begun) except upon terms that the
author valued himself too highly to accept. Altogether, the situation
was unpleasant. There were many times in which Madame Savarin presumed
to scold her distinguished husband for his want of prudence and thrift.
But those were never the times when scolding could be of no use.
It could cl