“You are very provoking, Sapphira. And I can tell you one thing, they that are determined to be miserable will always find the wherewithal for misery. Try and hope for the best,” and she kissed her and added, “Put on a fresh white frock, you look best in white.” So Sappha did as she was counselled, but her bravery did not help her to bear her sorrow--a sorrow made worse by its uncertainty in all respects. If Leonard had only granted her a little time, if he had been patient enough to tell her of the morning’s events, if he had not given that rose of renunciation! Yes, that act of his was the real provocative of her desertion. He had told her to forget him. What could he expect but a prompt acceptance of his request? It would have been impossible at that stage to have hesitated. He had broken their betrothal, not her; how then could she hope he would make any effort to renew it? She did not hope for it, though she obeyed her mother’s desire, and with an aching heart dressed herself in white and went downstairs. About five o’clock she heard her father’s steps, and he was not alone. But the double footsteps did not give her a moment’s hope. She knew they were not Leonard’s, and in a few moments she saw that St. Ange was her father’s companion. They were talking in tones of earnest gratification, and as soon as the ordinary greetings were over resumed their conversation. The subject was, of course, the duel and the sympathetic response it had evoked in Leonard’s favour. Gilson’s effort to escape to Boston, his bullying language when detected, the decided white feather he had shown on the field, his cowardice under pain since he had received his punishment, were now the topics of public conversation; and the men who had been foremost in doubting Leonard Murray were now the warmest in his praise. All these things St. Ange described in his usual sparkling detail, and the judge, Mrs. Bloommaert, and Sappha listened to him with the keenest interest. Suddenly Judge Bloommaert said: “I never heard before of a man disabling his antagonist just in that way. I wonder how Leonard learned the stroke.” “One of Robespierre’s emigrants taught it to Leonard. He was a noble of the highest lineage, but when driven to America he embraced the simple life of the wilderness with inconceivable ardour. Leonard met him in the exploring party which he accompanied to the Mississippi, and together they went down the river to New Orleans. Their tedious voyage was relieved with sword play, and under this French noble’s tuition Leonard became an incomparable fencer. With this same stroke he disarmed Señor Zavala in New Orleans.” “Ah! Then Murray has fought before?” “Yes. The duel between Señor Zavala and Mr. Murray is well remembered in New Orleans.” “Suppose, then, you tell us about it,” said Mrs. Bloommaert. “I was not acquainted with Leonard at the time, but Mr. Livingston told me of the circumstance. The Americans in New Orleans are proud of it.”