hall, Fanny suddenly opened the door of the breakfast parlor, and
seemed, by her look, her gesture, to invite me in. Her face was very
pale, and there were traces of tears on the heavy lids.

I stood still a moment, and my heart beat violently. I then muttered
something inarticulately, and, bowing low, hastened to the door.

I thought, but my ears might deceive me, that I heard my name
pronounced; but fortunately the tall porter started from his newspaper
and his leathern chair, and the entrance stood open. I joined my
father.

"It's all over," said I, with a resolute smile. "And now, my dear
father, I feel how grateful I should be for all that your lessons--your
life--have taught me; for, believe me, I am not unhappy."




CHAPTER IV.


We came back to my father's house, and on the stairs we met my mother,
whom Roland's grave looks and her Austin's strange absence had alarmed.
My father quietly led the way to a little room which my mother had
appropriated to Blanche and herself, and then, placing my hand in that
which had helped his own steps from the stony path down the quiet vales
of life, he said to me: "Nature gives you here the soother;" and so
saying, he left the room.