He was going towards the door, when she called him back. “See you, I shall not have long to live, and ’tis but right I should live as I choose through my short span. But I tell you, if I believed your protestations, they would live even for a shorter time than I myself shall. Well, well, perhaps you have a good heart--who knows? Not I. And you seem sincere; perhaps you are for the moment. For this you should have some reward; take this flower. You know they call me the Lady of the Camelias, because I always carry a bouquet of those beautiful flowers. Oh! I give it you that you may return it to me. When? When it is faded.” “And in how short a time will that be?” “The time in which all flowers fade, the duration of an evening, or a morning. Good bye, good bye.” She fell into a reverie as the youth left her, but she was soon startled from it by the cries from the other room. The next moment they came running in, as he joined them, and was soon as merry as the merriest among them. Yet not for one mere moment was she really happy. CHAPTER II. Away from the hot, crowded city--away from the brilliantly lighted ball room. Away to a peaceful cottage before which rippled a lake, while round the trees whispered sorrowing peace through the livelong day. Living at peace, but not happy. No, not for one moment happy. Always before her flitting in the air, the menacing fatal future, always treading on a flowery path resting on a volcano. Again, want stepped in. These ladies always live up to the extent of their means; so, if money suddenly fails them, they are quite poor. Not actual want of bread, but want of luxuries, which are necessities to them. Besides, she had debts: and when she deserted her gay life in Paris, her creditors, who knew of her miserable health, noisily demanded payment. She kept all this from the man whom she had grown to honestly love. So first her carriage, then her diamonds, then her cashmeres went to appease the raging creditors, and pay their daily bills. The youth was poor, there was no income now. So they lived, and she staved off debts by the sale of the presents of old admirers. A wretched life truly, and useful only as a warning. He learnt at last the sacrifices she was making, and grew ashamed of himself. He had a small fortune of his own, and at least he was honorable enough to make preparations to throw it into the common vortex. He wrote to his lawyer, desiring him to dispose of his entire property; and a few days after, telling her he had important business in the city, and bidding her keep up her spirits, left the cottage, and came to Paris, meaning to carry his poor fortune back to her, and bid her place it in the common bank.