That was a happy period. It was so delightful to watch the roses return to her cheeks, and the roundness to her form, and to feel that the saddest part of her life was over, and she was free to choose her future destiny. But we did not keep her with us long. In Paris that was hardly to be expected! Every one prophesied she would marry a foreigner, yet she married—— Stay! Armand and I are going over next week to England, to spend a whole month in Norwood, with my dear old friend Mrs. Sandilands, to whom I am very anxious to introduce my husband and my son, Godefroi de Nesselrode—who is already seven years old. And Charlie, dear old boy! is anticipating our arrival as if he were still my mother’s ‘blue-eyed baby’ of twenty-two, instead of a sober citizen of thirty, because he wants me, not to be introduced to, but to renew my acquaintance with, _his wife_—Mrs. Sandilands Number Two—my dear friend Tessie! It all came about as naturally as possible, although it sounds so romantic, for Charlie came to stay with us in Paris, and popped the question to her there, without even asking my advice upon the subject, and took her home with him to be his mother’s eldest daughter! * * * * * So they all lived happy ever afterwards. Yes, that is true—strictly and literally true—because they were not such fools as to expect, or wish for, unalloyed happiness in this world of shadow. They had been hungry, and they were filled—they had been naked, and they were clothed—they had suffered, sometimes very acutely—and they were loved and looked after, and guarded by good and true men, and would have been ingrates as well as fools, not to recognise how much more fortunate they were than many of their fellows. But there is one dark passage in Tessie’s life and mine which we shall never forget—the night that Ange’s spirit spread its wings and flew away from us. Sometimes I wonder, when Armand is more than usually tender to me, or little Godefroi more than usually good, if _she_ is hovering round us who are so happy, and rejoices because we rejoice. Or does she stand by Cave Charteris’s side, for the sake of the love she bore him, to urge him on to better thoughts and a higher career? Or is she wandering through the Elysian fields with the old father whom she believed in so faithfully, until his blazoned disgrace snapped her tender heartstrings! Who can tell me? No parson, no priest, no book! Nothing but the great mystery that bore her from us—the solver of all our doubts, the cure for all our sorrows: Death! Let us thank God that amidst the troubles He ordained for this earthly pilgrimage, He left us a sure and certain remedy that cannot fail to come to every one at last!