explained the old
lady; "and, as soon as he received them, he came home."

Gradually, however, after having exhausted all conjectures, and after
having discussed all contingencies, Henrietta became silent. When it
struck half-past three, she said once more,--

"Ah! M. Ravinet is at the Lyons station now."

Then her hand became less and less active in drawing the worsted, her
head oscillated from side to side, and her eyelids closed unconsciously.
Her old friend advised her to retire; and this time she did not refuse.

It was past ten o'clock when she awoke; and upon entering, fully
dressed, into the sitting-room, Mrs. Bertolle greeted her with the
exclamation:--

"At this moment my brother reaches Marseilles!"

"Ah! then it will not be long before we shall have news," replied
Henrietta.

But there are moments in which we think electricity the slowest of
messengers. At two o'clock nothing had come; and the poor women began to
accuse the old dealer of having forgotten them, when, at last, the bell
was rung.

It was really the telegraph messenger, with his black leather pouch. The
old lady signed her receipt with marvellous promptness; and, tearing the
envelope hastily open, she read,--

Marseilles, 12.40 a.m.

"Saint Louis" signalled by telegraph this morning. Will be in to-night.
I hire boat to go and meet her, provided Champcey is on board. This
evening telegram.

Ravinet.

"But this does not tell us any thing," said Henrietta, terribly
disappointed. "Just see, madam, _your_ brother is not even sure whether
M. Champcey is on board 'The Saint Louis.'"

Perhaps Mrs. Bertolle, also, was a little disappointed; but she was not
the person to let it be seen.

"But what did you expect, dear child? Anthony has not been an hour in
Marseilles; how do you think he can know? We must wait till the evening.
It is only a matter of a few hours."

She said this very quietly; but all who have ever undergone the anguish
of expectation will know how it becomes more and more intolerable as the
moment approaches that is to bring the decision. However the old lady
endeavored to control her excitement, the calm and dignified woman could
not long conceal the nervous fever that was raging within her. Ten times
during the afternoon she opened the window, to look for--what? She could
not have told it herself, as she well knew nothing could come as yet. At
night she could not stay in any one place. She tried in vain to work o