She received the information as she might have received a blow,--staggering backward, and whitening, and losing her breath; but almost immediately afterward she uttered a sad cry of disbelief and anguish. “No, no,” she said, “it--it isn't true! I won't believe it--I mustn't. There's half the world between us. Oh, don't try to make me believe it,--when it can't be true!” “Come with me,” replied Clélie. Never--never in my life has it been my fate to see, before or since, a sight so touching as the meeting of these two young hearts. When the door of the cold, bare room opened, and Mademoiselle Esmeralda entered, the lover held out his weak arms with a sob,--a sob of rapture, and yet terrible to hear. “I thought you'd gone back on me, Esmeraldy,” he cried. “I thought you'd gone back on me.” Clélie and I turned away and left them as the girl fell upon her knees at his side. The effect produced upon the father--who had followed Mademoiselle as usual, and whom we found patiently seated upon the bottom step of the flight of stairs, awaiting our arrival--was almost indescribable. He sank back upon his seat with a gasp, clutching at his hat with both hands. He also disbelieved. “Wash!” he exclaimed weakly. “Lord, no! Lord, no! Not Wash! Wash, he's in North Cal-lina. Lord, no!” “He is up-stairs,” returned Clélie, “and Mademoiselle is with him.” During the recovery of Monsieur Wash, though but little was said upon the subject, it is my opinion that the minds of each of our number pointed only toward one course in the future. In Mademoiselle's demeanor there appeared a certain air of new courage and determination, though she was still pallid and anxious. It was as if she had passed a climax and had gained strength. Monsieur, the father, was alternately nervous and dejected, or in feverishly high spirits. Occasionally he sat for some time without speaking, merely gazing into the fire with a hand upon each knee; and it was one evening, after a more than usually prolonged silence of this description, that he finally took upon himself the burden which lay upon us unitedly. “Esmeraldy,” he remarked, tremulously, and with manifest trepidation,--“Esmeraldy, I've been thinkin'--it's time--we broke it to mother.” The girl lost color, but she lifted her head steadily. “Yes, father,” she answered, “it's time.” “Yes,” he echoed, rubbing his knees slowly, “it's time; an', Esmeraldy, it's a thing to--to sorter set a man back.” “Yes, father,” she answered again. “Yes,” as before, though his voice broke somewhat; “an' I dessay you know how it'll be, Esmeraldy,--that you'll have to choose betwixt mother and Wash.” She sat by her lover, and for answer she dropped her face upon his hand with a sob. “An'--an' you've chose Wash, Esmeraldy?” “Yes, father.” He hesitated a moment, and then took his hat from its place of concealment and rose.