harming
her by my love. Save her from me, Johanna. You have it in your power. I
should be happy if I knew she was here with you. I implore you, for my
mother's sake, to receive Olivia into your home."

"She shall come to me," said Johanna, after a few minutes' silence. I
was satisfied, though the consent was given with a sigh. I knew that,
before long, Johanna would be profoundly attached to my Olivia.

It was almost midnight the next day when I reached Brook Street, where I
found Jack expecting my return. He had bought, in honor of it, some
cigars of special quality, over which I was to tell him all the story of
Julia's wedding. But a letter was waiting for me, directed in queer,
crabbed handwriting, and posted in Jersey a week before. It had been so
long on the road in consequence of the bad penmanship of the address. I
opened it carelessly as I answered Jack's first inquiries; but the
instant I saw the signature I held up my hand to silence him. It was
from Tardif. This is a translation:

"DEAR DOCTOR AND FRIEND: This day I received a letter from
mam'zelle; quite a little letter with only a few lines in it.
She says, 'Come to me. My husband has found me; he is here. I
have no friends but you and one other, and I cannot send for
him. You said you would come to me whenever I wanted you. I
have not time to write more. I am in a little village called
Ville-en-bois, between Granville and Noireau. Come to the
house of the cure; I am there.'

"Behold, I am gone, dear monsieur. I write this in my boat,
for we are crossing to Jersey to catch the steamboat to
Granville. To-morrow evening I shall be in Ville-en-bois. Will
you learn the law of France about this affair? They say the
code binds a woman to follow her husband wherever he goes. At
London you can learn any thing. Believe me, I will protect
mam'zelle, or I should say madame, at the loss of my life.
Write to me as soon as you receive this. There will be an inn
at Ville-en-bois; direct to me there. Take courage, monsieur.
Your devoted TARDIF."

"I must go!" I exclaimed, starting to my feet, about to rush out of the
house.

"Where?" cried Jack, catching my arm between both his hands, and holding
me fast.

"To Olivia," I answered; "that villain, that scoundrel has hunted her
out in Normandy. Read that, Jack. Let me go."

"Stay!" he said; "there is no chance of going so la