r said it was only boys' talk."

"Your father was right," I answered; "you must think of what he said,
not the boys' talk."

"But," she continued, "the boys said sometimes people get so hungry they
bite pieces out of their arms. I don't think I could ever be so hungry
as that; do you?"

"Minima," I said, starting up, "let us run to Mademoiselle Rosalie's for
some bread-and-milk."

"You're afraid of me beginning to eat myself!" she cried, with a little
laugh. But she was the first to reach Mademoiselle Rosalie's door; and I
watched her devouring her bread-and-milk with the eagerness of a
ravenous appetite.

Very fast melted away my money. I could not see the child pining with
hunger, though every sou I spent made our return to England more
difficult. Madame Perrier put no hinderance in my way, for the more food
we purchased ourselves, the less we ate at her table. The bitter cold
and the coarse food told upon Minima's delicate little frame. Yet what
could I do? I dared not write to Mrs. Wilkinson, and I very much doubted
if there would be any benefit to be hoped for if I ran the risk. Minima
did not know the address of any one of the persons who had subscribed
for her education and board; to her they were only the fathers and
mothers of the boys of whom she talked so much. She was as friendless as
I was in the world.

So far away were Dr. Martin Dobree and Tardif, that I dared not count
them as friends who could have any power to help me. Better for Dr.
Martin Dobree if he could altogether forget me, and return to his cousin
Julia. Perhaps he had done so already.

How long was this loneliness, this friendlessness to be my lot? I was so
young yet, that my life seemed endless as it stretched before me. Poor,
desolate, hunted, I shrank from life as an evil thing, and longed
impatiently to be rid of it. Yet how could I escape even from its
present phase?

CHAPTER THE TENTH.

A MISFORTUNE WITHOUT PARALLEL.

My escape was nearer than I expected, and was forced upon me in a manner
I could never have foreseen.

Toward the middle of February, Mademoiselle Morel appeared often in
tears. Madame Perrier's coarse face was always overcast, and monsieur
seemed gloomy, too gloomy to retain even French politeness of manner
toward any of us. The household was under a cloud, but I could not
discover why. What little discipline and work there had been in the
school was quite at an end. Every one was left to do as she chos