“Yes,” I answered; “though I can hardly account for my own depression.  Johanna, in another fortnight I shall learn where Olivia is.  I want to find a home for her.  Just think of her desolate position!  She has no friends but Tardif and me; and you know how the world would talk if I were too openly her friend.  Indeed, I do not wish her to come to live in London; the trial would be too great for me.  I could not resist the desire to see her, to speak to her—­and that would be fatal to her.  Dearest Johanna, I want such a home as this for her.”

Johanna made no reply, and I could not see her face in the dim moonlight which filled the room.  I knelt down beside her, to urge my petition more earnestly.

“Your name would be such a protection to her.”  I went on, “this house such a refuge!  If my mother were living, I would ask her to receive her.  You have been almost as good to me as my mother.  Save me, save Olivia from the difficulty I see before us.”

“Will you never get over this unfortunate affair?"’ she asked, half angrily.

“Never!” I said; “Olivia is so dear to me that I am afraid of harming her by my love.  Save her from me, Johanna.  You have it in your power.  I should be happy if I knew she was here with you.  I implore you, for my mother’s sake, to receive Olivia into your home.”

“She shall come to me,” said Johanna, after a few minutes’ silence.  I was satisfied, though the consent was given with a sigh.  I knew that, before long, Johanna would be profoundly attached to my Olivia.

It was almost midnight the next day when I reached Brook Street, where I found Jack expecting my return.  He had bought, in honor of it, some cigars of special quality, over which I was to tell him all the story of Julia’s wedding.  But a letter was waiting for me, directed in queer, crabbed handwriting, and posted in Jersey a week before.  It had been so long on the road in consequence of the bad penmanship of the address.  I opened it carelessly as I answered Jack’s first inquiries; but the instant I saw the signature I held up my hand to silence him.  It was from Tardif.  This is a translation: 

“DEAR DOCTOR AND FRIEND:  This day I received a letter from mam’zelle; quite a little letter with only a few lines in it.  She says, ’Come to me.  My husband has found me; he is here.  I have no friends but you and one other, and I cannot send for him.  You said you would come to me whenever I wanted you.  I have not time to write more.  I am in a little village called Ville-en-bois, between Granville and Noireau.  Come to the house of the cure; I am there.’

“Behold, I am gone, dear monsieur.  I write this in my boat, for we are crossing to Jersey to catch the steamboat to Granville.  To-morrow evening I shall be in Ville-en-bois.  Will you learn the law of France about this affair?  They say the code binds a woman to follow her husband wherever he goes.  At London you