predecessor's throne. At last, she received
the long looked for news; Eugene had
won his epaulettes in open fight, and
been noticed by the Prince himself. How
Coralie cried for joy, and how Madame
Sévèré scolded her for having flushed
cheeks.

Time went steadily on, hurrying himself for
no one, and now Eugene writes of his return
in another year as certain. A year! Who,
after thirty, says with heartfelt confidence,
only another year, and then! This certainty
of soon having a husband's protection,
softened to Coralie the annoyance of leaving
Madame Sévèré. Not that Coralie had any
affection for that prim uncensurable lady;
but she would have borne almost anything
to be permitted the shelter of a respectable
roof, till Eugene came to claim her. Why
Madame Sévèré had such an antipathy to
the handsome, healthy, smiling girl, courageous
and independent in her nearly menial
situation, let moralists explain. Too
independent, perhaps, was the under teacher, with
not a scrap of that twining and clinging of
parasite plants, which, whether he will or
no, embrace and hold fast the rugged, knotty
oak until they make him subservient to their
support.

Coralie had proved her courage by remaining
so many years a drudge for Madame
Sévèré, but the proud spirit could not brook
the chance of being discharged as an ill-
behaved servant, and Madame Sévèré had not
been sparing in hints that she must either
resign, or be dismissed.

So Mademoiselle Fischer left the pensionnat
for young ladies, and, by the advice of
Madame Ferey, one of those who had shown
most interest in her at the time of her
mother's death, she resolved to try what she
could make of a day-school for children,
rather than run the risk of encountering
another Madame Sévèré. There was no time
for much pondering: the poor cannot afford
the luxury of hesitation; so Coralie at once
hired a couple of rooms in one of the small
streets running into the Rue St. Honoré—a
neighbourhood abounding in small shops and
populous with small children. To furnish
these rooms, sorely against her wishes, our
young schoolmistress had to expend her
mother's savings. Coralie had no morbid
sensibility, but she sorrowed over this
infringement of her dead mother's wishes as if
that mother could have been pained by the
deed. She listened thankfully to Madame
Ferey, who said the furniture would be as
good a dôt as the money, and tried to look
satisfied: her judgment was convinced, but
not her heart.

Madame Ferey went with her to the
upholsterer's to choose the walnut-wood furniture
—that object of ambition to young
housekeepers. Madame Ferey says she shall
never forget Coralie's face on that day, with
its variations of sunshine and cloud; while
the firm, well-poised figure, the impersonation
of youthful vigour, contrasted so charmingly
with the blushing, fluttered manner,
which betrayed to her friend how constantly
the thought of the absent one entered into
the choice of one or other article. One chair,
quite a large reading-chair, Coralie would
have. Should it be covered? Oh, no! She
would rather work a cover for it. "A piece
of extravagance," said she to Madame Ferey,
"but it will last all our lives, and Eugene
ought to have one. Don't you think so?"
And all sorts of fairy visions were dancing
before Coralie's eyes as she spoke.

Madame Ferey had taken up Coralie's
interests in real earnest, and had, by dint of
severe canvassing, procured several little
scholars. It was agreed that the usual
monthly charge of five francs should always be
paid in advance. This considerate arrangement
saved Coralie from running into debt
at the beginning, and before the end of the
first three months she was enjoying a great
gale of prosperity. The mothers of her first
pupils so boasted of her skill in teaching
reading and writing, but, above all, of the
wonderful stitches she taught their daughters,
that her little school prospered beyond all
her expectations. Coralie even thought she
should soon need a larger room and an
assistant; but she would wait now for
Eugene's advice. Perhaps he might not like
her to keep a school after they were married.
In his last letter he had bid her write no
more, for the regiment was under orders to
return to France. He was sure to be with
her shortly after his own letter. Everything
was ready for him, and it was wonderful
what her industry and ingenuity had done
for her humble apartment. She had worked a
large rug, made the neatest and freshest of
covers for the little sofa, while the famous
great chair was a specimen of beautiful
elaborate worsted work, a paragon in its way.
There were helmets and swords and banners
flaming in charming confusion on the seat and
broad back, in the centre of which last was
a medallion with the interlaced initials E,
and C. The pride of Coralie's heart,
however, was the pretty pendule on the mantel-
piece. The only drawback to her pleasure
as she looked round her was the absence of
the two vases with their bouquets which
ought to have flanked the pendule. They
had yet to be earned, and during the
probation of this last month even Coralie's
energy and spirit gave way. She could
scarcely bear the sound of the little voices
round her; she was hardly able to command
patience enough to allot the work—to answer
the never-ending questions about cotton and
muslin, and leaves and holes, and worsteds
and silks. She was nearly wild with
impatience for the hour of release; but when it
came, solitude appeared more insupportable
to her than the hum and buzz and movement
of the day. She could not command even.