. Her thoughts were fixed upon the young girl whose
beauty had been sacrificed for hers, and an unconquerable desire to
learn her fate took possession of her mind. Her intended disposal of
the morning seemed quite to be forgotten; and she was on the point of
forming new plans, very different from the first, when the lady to
whose care she had been confided during the absence of her father from
town, entered the apartment, and aroused her from her reverie by
exclaiming: 'Ah, you naughty girl! I have been waiting for you this
half hour. Was not the carriage ordered to take us to the Tuileries?'

'Yes, indeed, it was; but I hope you will excuse me: I had almost
forgotten it.' And Adelaide immediately related to her friend the
circumstance which had occurred, and begged her aid in the discovery
of Lucille. Madame d'Heranville laughed--reasoned, but in vain; and,
finding Adelaide resolved, she at length consented to accompany her
upon the search, expressing as she did so her entire conviction that
it would prove useless and unsatisfactory.

The day was spent in visits to the principal _modistes_ of Paris; but
from none could any information be gained concerning the young
flower-girl. None had ever even heard her name. Adelaide was returning
home, disappointed, but not discouraged. Still resolved to continue
her endeavours, she had just announced to Madame d'Heranville her
intention of visiting upon the following day the shops of an inferior
class, when the carriage was suddenly arrested in its course by the
crowd of vehicles which surrounded it, and they found themselves
exactly before the door of a small warehouse of the description she
alluded to. She was about to express a wish to enter, it being still
early, when her attention was attracted by two persons who stood
conversing near the door, and whose voices, slightly raised, were
distinctly audible. They had excited the interest and curiosity of
both Adelaide and her companion by the earnestness of their manner,
and by the expression of sorrow depicted upon the countenance of the
elder speaker, a young man of about twenty-five years of age, who,
from his costume, as well as accent, appeared to be a stranger in
Paris.

'I have promised--will you not trust me?' he said in a
half-reproachful tone; and Adelaide bent eagerly forward to catch a
glimpse of the young girl to whom these words were addressed; but her
face was turned away, and the large hood of a woollen cloak w