trangely white, her eyes
swollen with tears and sleep.

"I was there," she said in a low voice; "I heard everything, even that I
was old and had wrinkles."

He approached her, took her hands, and looked into the depths of her
eyes.

"He is not far away. Shall I call him?"

She disengaged her hands, threw her arms around his neck, and with one
of those sudden impulses that prevented her from being utterly unworthy,
exclaimed, "You are right, Jack; I am your mother, and only your
mother!"

Some days after this scene, Jack wrote the following letter to M.
Rivals:--

"My Dear Friend: She has left me, and gone back to him. It all happened
in such an unexpected manner that I have not yet recovered from the
blow. Alas! she of whom I must complain is my mother. It would be more
dignified to keep silence, but I cannot. I knew in my childhood a negro
lad who said, 'If the world could not sigh, the world would stifle!' I
never fully understood this until to-day, for it seems to me that if I
do not write you this letter, that I could not live. I could not wait
until Sunday because I could not speak before Cecile. I told you of
the explanation that man and I had, did I not? Well, from that time my
mother was so very sad, and seemed so worn out by the scene she had gone
through, that I resolved to change our residence. I understood that a
battle was being fought, and that, if I wished her to be victorious,
if I wished to keep my mother with me, that I must employ all means and
devices. Our street and house displeased her. I wanted something gayer
and more airy. I hired then at Charonne Rue de Silas three rooms newly
papered. I furnished these rooms with great care. All the money I had
saved--pardon me these details--I devoted to this purpose. Belisaire
aided me in moving, while Zenaide was in the same street, and I counted
on her in many ways. All these arrangements were made secretly, and
I hoped a great surprise and pleasure was in store for my mother. The
place was as quiet as a village street, the trees were well grown and
green, and I fancied that she would, when established there, have less
to regret in the country-life she had so much enjoyed.

"Yesterday evening everything was in readiness. Belisaire was to tell
her that I was waiting for her at the Rondics, and then he was to take
her to our new home. I was there waiting; white curtains hung at all the
windows, and great bunches of roses were on the chimney. I had m