r you come. And
since Madame does not love the poor wounded gentleman, what can he do
better?"

"Not love him!" cried Rose: "why, she is his wife, his lawful wedded
wife; he is a fool or a monster to run away for her. She loves him as no
woman ever loved before. She pines for him. She dies for him."

The door of a little back room opened at these words of Rose, and there
stood Camille, with his arm in a sling, pale and astounded, but great
joy and wonder working in his face.

Josephine gave a cry of love that made the other two women weep, and in
a moment they were sobbing for joy upon each other's neck.

Away went sorrow, doubt, despair, and all they had suffered. That one
moment paid for all. And in that moment of joy and surprise, so great as
to be almost terrible, perhaps it was well for Josephine that Camille,
weakened by his wound, was quite overcome, and nearly fainted. She was
herself just going into hysterics; but, seeing him quite overcome,
she conquered them directly, and nursed, and soothed, and pitied, and
encouraged him instead.

Then they sat hand in hand. Their happiness stopped their very breath.
They could not speak. So Rose told him all. He never owned why he had
slipped away when he saw them coming. He forgot it. He forgot all his
hard thoughts of her. They took him home in the carriage. His wife would
not let him out of her sight. For years and years after this she could
hardly bear to let him be an hour out of her sight.

The world is wide; there may be a man in it who can paint the sudden
bliss that fell on these two much suffering hearts; but I am not that
man; this is beyond me; it was not only heaven, but heaven after hell.

Leave we the indescribable and the unspeakable for a moment, and go to a
lighter theme.

The day Rose's character was so unexpectedly cleared, Edouard had no
opportunity of speaking to her, or a reconciliation would have taken
place. As it was, he went home intensely happy. But he did not resume
his visits to the chateau. When he came to think calmly over it, his
vanity was cruelly mortified. She was innocent of the greater offence;
but how insolently she had sacrificed him, his love, and his respect, to
another's interest.

More generous thoughts prevailed by degrees. And one day that her pale
face, her tears, and her remorse got the better of his offended pride,
he determined to give her a good lecture that should drown her in
penitent tears; and then end by fo