"Before leaving him, this audacious young girl was more than once convinced that the wild and unworthy freak she had undertaken to play, would lower her in his estimation; but she did not draw back. Her training had been bad; she enjoyed her liberty. Not until she had resumed the dress of her sex, did she awake to the consciousness of the great social transgression she had been guilty of. She then went to him and told him all, and stopped him when he tried to speak--do not speak, sir!--and bade him read the words she had written him, as she left him----" Mowbray, with an unconscious movement, took from his pocket the letter left by Hoffland in the post-office, on the morning of the ball. Philippa took it from his hand and opened it. "Pardon, Ernest!" These words were all it contained; and the young girl pointing to them, dropped the letter and burst into a flood of passionate tears. Her impulsive nature had fairly spent itself, and but for the circling arm of Mowbray she would have fallen. In a moment her head was on his bosom--she was weeping passionately; and Mowbray forgot all, and only saw the woman whom he loved. Need we say that he did not utter one word of comment on her narrative? Poor Mowbray! he was no statue, and the hand which she had promised him laughingly on that morning, now lay in his own; the proud and haughty girl was conquered by a power far stronger than her pride; and over them the merry blossoms showered, the orioles sang, and Nature laughed to see her perfect triumph. When Philippa returned to the company she was very silent, and blushed deeply, holding to her face the handkerchief which Hoffland had picked up. But no one noticed her; all was in confusion. Where was Belle-bouche? That was the question, and a hundred voices asked it. She had disappeared; and Jacques too was nowhere to be seen. The banquet was ready; where was the hostess? It was in the middle of all this uproar that a voice was heard from the great oak, and looking up, the laughing throng perceived the radiant face of Jacques framed among the leaves, and looking on them. "My friends," said Jacques, "the matter is very simple--be good enough to raise those steps." And the cavalier pointed to the prostrate ladder. With a burst of laughter, the steps were raised and placed against the oak. And then Jacques was observed to place his foot upon them, leading by the hand--Belle-bouche. Belle-bouche was blushing much more deeply than Philippa; and Jacques was the picture of happiness. Is it too much to suppose that he had this time stolen a march on the inimical fates, and forced Belle-bouche to answer him? Is it extravagant to fancy that her reply was _not_, No? And so they descended, and the company, laughing at the mishap, hastened toward the flower and fruit decorated table, and the banquet inaugurated itself joyously.