of confinement, had slipped from the string, and was at play with his
kind in a distant quarter of the town, leaving the blind man to seek his
way as he might to his solitary inn.

By and by a light step passed through the street, and the young
stranger's face brightened.

"Pardon me," said he, turning to the spot where his quick ear had caught
the sound, "and direct me, if you are not much pressed for a few moments'
time, to the hotel 'Mortier d'Or.'"

It was a young woman, whose dress betokened that she belonged to the
middling class of life, whom he thus addressed. "It is some distance
hence, sir," said she; "but if you continue your way straight on for
about a hundred yards, and then take the second turn to your right
hand--"

"Alas!" interrupted the stranger, with a melancholy smile, "your
direction will avail me little; my dog has deserted me, and I am blind!"

There was something in these words, and in the stranger's voice, which
went irresistibly to the heart of the young woman. "Pray forgive me,"
she said, almost with tears in her eyes, "I did not perceive your--"
misfortune, she was about to say, but she checked herself with an
instinctive delicacy. "Lean upon me, I will conduct you to the door;
nay, sir," observing that he hesitated, "I have time enough to spare, I
assure you."

The stranger placed his hand on the young woman's arm; and though Lucille
was naturally so bashful that even her mother would laughingly reproach