nd her tisanes in readiness at all hours of the day and night.

Sometimes the poor little woman was fearfully rebuffed and mortified by
a fretful exclamation from the poet. "Do be quiet, Charlotte; you talk
too much!"

This illness brought the good-natured doctor to the house once more.
Charlotte met him in the hall. "Come quick, doctor, our dear poet is
suffering," she said, anxiously.

"Nonsense, my dear; he only wants a little amusement."

In fact, D'Argenton, who greeted the physician in the most languid
tones, soon forgot to keep up the farce in the pleasure of seeing a
new face, which made a pleasant break in his monotonous life, and a
few moments later beheld him launched on some dazzling episode of his
Parisian life. The doctor saw no reason to doubt the truth of these
narrations told in such measured and careful phrases, and was always
pleased with the appearance of the family,--the intellectual husband,
the pretty gay wife, and the amusing child; and no intuition gave him a
hint, as might have been the case with a more delicate organization,
of the peculiarity and bitterness of the ties which bound the household
together.

Often, therefore, on these bright midsummer days, the doctor's horse
was fastened to the palisades, while the old man drank the cool glass
carefully mixed for him by Charlotte herself, and as he drank, he told
of his wonderful adventures in India. Jack listened with eyes and ears
wide open.

"Jack!" said D'Argenton, peremptorily, and pointed to the door.

"Let him stay, I beg of you; I like to have children around me. I am
quite sure that your boy has discovered that I have a grandchild;" and
the old man talked of his little Cecile, who was two years younger than
Jack.

"Bring her to see us, doctor," said Charlotte; "the two children would
be so happy together."

"Thank you, dear madame; but her grandmother would never consent. She
never trusts the child to any one; and she herself never goes anywhere
since our great sorrow."

This sorrow, of which the old doctor often spoke, was the loss of his
daughter and his son-in-law within a year after their marriage. Some
mystery surrounded this double catastrophe. Even Mother Archambauld, who
knew everything, contented herself with saying, "Yes, poor things! they
have had a great deal of trouble."

The only prescription given by the doctor was a verbal one, "Keep him
amused, madame; keep him amused!"

How could poor Charlotte do this