nd were again in the city.

"Where do you live?" I asked; "I will see you safe home."

"Rue Notre Dame aux Neiges," answered Frances.

It was not far from the Rue de Louvain, and we stood on the doorsteps
of the house we sought ere the clouds, severing with loud peal and
shattered cataract of lightning, emptied their livid folds in a torrent,
heavy, prone, and broad.

"Come in! come in!" said Frances, as, after putting her into the house,
I paused ere I followed: the word decided me; I stepped across the
threshold, shut the door on the rushing, flashing, whitening storm, and
followed her upstairs to her apartments. Neither she nor I were wet; a
projection over the door had warded off the straight-descending flood;
none but the first, large drops had touched our garments; one minute
more and we should not have had a dry thread on us.

Stepping over a little mat of green wool, I found myself in a small room
with a painted floor and a square of green carpet in the middle; the
articles of furniture were few, but all bright and exquisitely clean;
order reigned through its narrow limits--such order as it soothed my
punctilious soul to behold. And I had hesitated to enter the abode,
because I apprehended after all that Mdlle. Reuter's hint about its
extreme poverty might be too well-founded, and I feared to embarrass the
lace-mender by entering her lodgings unawares! Poor the place might be;
poor truly it was; but its neatness was better than elegance, and had
but a bright little fire shone on that clean hearth, I should have
deemed it more attractive than a palace. No fire was there, however, and
no fuel laid ready to light; the lace-mender was unable to allow herself
that indulgence, especially now when, deprived by death of her sole
relative, she had only her own unaided exertions to rely on. Frances
went into an inner room to take off her bonnet, and she came out a
model of frugal neatness, with her well-fitting black stuff dress, so
accurately defining her elegant bust and taper waist, with her spotless
white collar turned back from a fair and shapely neck, with her
plenteous brown hair arranged in smooth bands on her temples, and in
a large Grecian plait behind: ornaments she had none--neither brooch,
ring, nor ribbon; she did well enough without them--perfection of fit,
proportion of form, grace of carriage, agreeably supplied their place.
Her eye, as she re-entered the small sitting-room, instantly sought
mine, wh