ys merry, and this morning
yet sang like a bird. I thought she might be a little embarrassed, but
never suspected such misery. You see, ladies, she was as proud as a
queen, and as haughty as the weather. She would rather have died than
ask for assistance; for she knew she had only a word to say to me. Did
I not already, in October, when I saw she would not be able to pay her
rent, become responsible for her?"

And thereupon the infamous hypocrite bent over the poor girl, kissed her
on her forehead, and said with a tender tone of voice,--

"Did you not love me, dear little pussy-cat; did not you? I know you
loved poor old Mrs. Chevassat."

Unable to articulate a word, even if she had understood what was said,
poor Henrietta shivered, shrank with horror and disgust from the contact
with those lying lips. And the emotion which this feeling caused her did
more for her than all the attentions that were paid her. Still, it was
only after the doctor, who had been sent for, had come and bled her,
that she was restored to the full use of her faculties. Then she
thanked, in a very feeble voice, the people around her, assuring them
that she felt much better now, and might safely be left alone.

The two wealthy ladies, whom curiosity had carried off at the moment
when they were sitting down to dinner, did not wait for more, and, very
happy to be released, slipped away at once. But the concierge's wife
remained by Henrietta's bedside till she was alone with her victim; and
then every thing changed in her face, tone of voice, look, and manner.

"Well," she commenced, "now you are happy, miss! You have advertised my
house, and it will all be in the papers. Everybody will pity you,
and think your lover a cold-blooded villain, who lets you die of
starvation."

The poor young girl deprecated the charge with such a sweet, gentle
expression of face, that a savage would have been touched; but Mrs.
Chevassat was civilized.

"And still you know very well," she went on in a bitter tone, "that dear
M. Maxime has done all he could to save you. Only day before yesterday,
he offered you his whole fortune"--

"Madam," stammered Henrietta, "have you no mercy?"

Mercy--Mrs. Chevassat! What a joke!

"You would take nothing," she continued, "from M. Maxime. Why, I ask
you? To play the virtuous woman, was it? It was hardly worth while, if
you meant, immediately afterwards, to accept that old miser, who will
make life hard enough for you. Ah,