yelids reddened by smoke, met me at each turn.
Sallow weavers, in white caps, gazed out at me from their looms in
almost every house. There was scarcely a child to be seen about. The
whole district, undrained and unhealthy, bears the name of the
"Manufactory of Little Angels," from the number of children who die
there. And this was the place where Olivia had been spending a very hard
and severe winter!

There was going to be a large cattle-fair the next day, and all the town
was alive. Every inn in the place was crowded to overflowing. As I sat
at the window of my _cafe_, watching the picturesque groups which formed
in the street outside, I heard a vehement altercation going on in the
archway, under which was the entrance to my hotel.

"Grands Dieux!" cried the already familiar voice of my landlady, shrill
as the cackling of a hen--"grands Dieux! not a single soul from
Ville-en-bois can rest here, neither man nor woman! They have the fever
like a pest there. No, no, m'sieur, that is impossible; go away, you and
your beast. There is room at the Lion d'or. But the gensdarmes should
not let you enter the town. We have fever enough of our own."

"But my farm is a league from Ville-en-bois," was the answer, in the
slow, rugged accents of a Norman peasant.

"But I tell you it is impossible,'" she retorted; "I have an Englishman
here, very rich, a milor, and he will not hear of any person from
Ville-en-bois resting in the house. Go away to the Lion d'or, my good
friend, where there are no English. They are as afraid of the fever as
of the devil."

I laughed to myself at my landlady's ingenious excuses; but after this
the conversation fell into a lower key, and I heard no more of it.

I went out late in the evening to question each of the omnibus--drivers,
but in vain. Whether they were too busy to give me proper attention, or
too anxious to join the stir and mirth of the townspeople, they all
declared they knew nothing of any Englishwoman. As I returned dejectedly
to my inn, I heard a lamentable voice, evidently English, bemoaning in
doubtful French. The omnibus from Falaise had just come in, and under
the lamp in the entrance of the archway stood a lady before my hostess,
who was volubly asserting that there was no room left in her house. I
hastened to the assistance of my countrywoman, and the light of the lamp
falling full upon her face revealed to me who she was.

"Mrs. Foster!" I exclaimed, almost shouting her name