። one morning that my poor nursling was lying as if she were dead, a fine coach stopped at my door, and the Baroness de Pons alighted from it, looking very happy, and crying, 'My child, my Clotilda.. Quick, Dame Margaret; bring me my child.' Well, sir, what can I say for myself? My heart failed me. I had not courage to grieve that beautiful young mother, who had come in her joy. Besides, my evil genius kept whispering to me to keep the bit of ground. I took my own child, my little Lizette -she was thought like my nursling-and without saying a word -it would have stuck in my throat-I put her into the arms of Madame de Pons."

Lizette was listening with breathless attention, at times involuntarily articulating the words that fell from the lips of the dying woman.

6

Finding her strength failing, Dame Margaret went on quickly. "Madame de Pons covered the child with kisses. How pretty she is!' said she, with all a mother's pride. She is like a child of four months old, and she only six weeks! How delighted Albert will be to see her so rosy, so healthy!' But all on a sudden-then indeed I trembled-Madame de Pons began to undress the child, to look for a little red mark which her baby had below the elbow."

"Here it is," said Lizette in great agitation, as she pulled up her sleeve; "here it is. Heavenly Father, leave me my senses.' "Hush!" said the curé, gently laying his hand on the young girl's arm.

"The lady's-maid relieved me from my embarrassment," continued the nurse; "for, as you may well guess, the red mark was not to be found. Did I not tell you so, my lady?' cried she. 'I said it was only a heat in the skin, and not the mark of a strawberry; and your ladyship would not believe me; and now, my lady, you see I was right.' 'Oh, what happiness to have her so strong, so healthy!' was the only answer of Madame de Pons. 'How could I have ventured to hope it with such delicate health as I have always had. But I cannot leave her again; I will stay here till she is to be weaned.' And this, sir, was the way I changed the children.” The nurse ceased speaking. There was a profound silence, which Lizette was the first to break. "And you are not my mother?"

"But I love you as if I were. Had it not been for me, for my cares, you would have died. Lizette, Lizette," said the poor woman, clasping her trembling hands, "be not more inexorable than the God before whom I am about to appear. Forgive, forgive me."

"I do, I do," said Lizette, throwing herself, bathed in tears, into the arms of her nurse; "for it was you who made me so big and strong; you loved me, you made me happy. Are not these tears the first you ever caused to flow? Be at peace, my own

poor mother; far from vexing your last moments, your child blesses you."

"You are a good and generous girl," said the curé to Lizette. "As for you, Dame Margaret, though you have done a grievous wrong, Madame de Pons will scarcely blame since you

saved her child."

you,

have

"But I gave her my own child," interrupted Dame Margaret; "and now I must die without one look at her, without one kiss of her sweet lips."

"Am I not your child too, mother?" said Lizette in a tone of soft reproach.

"Blessings be on your head, my child, for that one sweet word; it makes death less bitter." Her voice now failed her, and in a few moments she had ceased to breathe.

II.

One forenoon, shortly after the death of Dame Margaret, a young country girl descended from a diligence which had just arrived at the place of its destination in Paris. Her dress was the costume of the peasantry of Marseilles. A short petticoat displayed a pretty pair of ankles, and two small feet in black shoes, with silver buckles. A clear muslin handkerchief trimmed with lace gave to view a neck embrowned by the noonday sun, while a little cap, surmounted by a large hat of black felt, with a broad gold band, shaded a fine and marked countenance. The diligences in France do not set down their passengers in the open street, as is the custom with stage-coaches in England. They drive into a spacious courtyard, to which no strangers for mere curiosity are admitted, and therefore the passengers are not incommoded by a crowd. Lizette, as the young girl was who had now arrived in Paris, having received her trunk, and had it examined by the attendant custom-house officers,* felt herself alone and friendless, and sat down to compose her feelings before venturing out to the long busy streets of which she had seen something in coming through the city. How long she might have sat ruminating on the object of her enterprise, is uncertain; her meditations were suddenly broken in upon by the abrupt request of one of the clerks, that she would move out of the way. Aroused by the discourteous order, the poor girl proceeded to procure a porter, and asked him to show her the way to the house of Madame de Pons in the Rue de Rivoli; and, as if to prove

* More correctly, officers of the octroi. The octroi is a tax collected in every French town for the benefit of the municipality; it is levied in the form of a duty on certain articles entering the town; and so rigorously is this exacted, that the appointed officers search the trunks of travellers, and even the baskets which the country people bring to market. An enormous sum is thus raised annually by the octroi duties in Paris.

that she was not mistaken in the address, she drew from her pocket a letter, and handed it to the porter.

"It is quite right; the very thing," said he: "follow me." And taking up the luggage, he proceeded, accompanied by the girl, in the direction of the Rue de Rivoli.

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Lizette was almost bewildered with the spectacle of the crowded streets, the dashing of carriages, and the great height of the houses, whose tops, to her imagination, seemed to reach the clouds. She was also struck with the splendour of the public buildings; and when the porter conducted her through the arcades of the Palais Royal, gay with the most elegant shops, and picturesque from the spouting of the jets-d'eau, she thought she was in a place of enchantment. "How delightful it will be for me to come often to see these grand scenes," said she to herself, scenes from which I have been so long kept by an impostor. I shall now soon see this daughter of a peasant who has so long enjoyed my fortune, my name, and my mother's caresses. How proud the girl must be! With what a patronising air she will receive me!-but what pleasure it will be to humble her by giving her this letter from the curé! Oh, how mortified she will be when she reads the dying confession of Dame Margaret!" Indulging such thoughts of bitterness, Lizette followed her guide out of the Palais Royal into the Rue St Honoré, along which she had to go for some way. The sight of the church of St Roche arrested her attention, and gave a salutary turn to her feelings, and the young girl exclaimed, "Oh, what a vile creature I am! What bad thoughts I have been cherishing! What, shall I, who am about to deprive her of everything, shall I insult her? Will she not have grief enough? Cruel that I am; may God forgive me! I must perform my devotions," said she, turning quickly to the guide; "wait here for me one

moment."

“And welcome, miss," said the porter. "I am answerable for your luggage," added he, as he showed his badge.

The young girl ascended the steps of the church; and as she knelt before the altar, with eyes fixed upon the letter, which she still held in both hands, murmured, "Oh, my God, give me strength for this hour!-teach me words to say to my mother that she may acknowledge me, that she may love me; for how can a poor girl brought up in the country know how to speak to a great lady! And oh, my God, soften my heart, and teach me to look kindly upon her who has usurped my place, and give me gentle words to say to her. It was not her fault that she robbed me of everything. Make me kind to her, oh, very kind to her, for I am about to make her very unhappy. I am about to deprive her of one mother, and I have not another to give her-Dame Margaret is dead." This recollection made her tears flow afresh, and Lizette-for so we shall still call her-remained for some moments as if overwhelmed by the many con

flicting feelings that agitated her. At length, relieved by the tears which she now freely shed, she left the church, and finding the porter where she had left him, both turned into the Rue de Rivoli.

When Lizette reached the door, when her foot was on the threshold of her mother's house, that house which she was about to enter as a stranger, her heart sank within her. But, summoning all her courage, she ascended the steps boldly, and, like most timid persons, who, having by a violent effort overcome their natural character, overact their part, she rang until she broke the bell. The startled footman ran to open the door, and when he saw only a country girl and a porter with a small trunk, he said somewhat roughly, What business have you to ring in such a way?"

"I want to see Madame de Pons," answered Lizette, affecting a confidence which was fast forsaking her.

"Who in the world is ringing in such a way? I am sure it must wake my lady," said a waiting-maid in a very sharp tone, who now made her appearance; when, suddenly perceiving the costume of Lizette, she added more civilly, "From Marseilles? Are you the daughter of Dame Margaret?"

The title of daughter of Dame Margaret seemed to arouse all the pride which Lizette had struggled so hard to subdue, and she answered, "I am the foster-sister of her whom you call Mademoiselle de Pons."

"Whom we call Mademoiselle de Pons! Well, that is droll enough, my little country girl. Wait here, child; I will go to Mademoiselle. How delighted she will be to see her little Lizette; she is always talking of her!"

"Do not tell her too suddenly, Gertrude," said the footman; you know how nervous our young lady is."

"Does the man think I am a fool?" returned the maid rather angrily; "do not I know better than you can tell me the state of Mademoiselle Clotilda's nerves? Make your mind easy, I will tell her the good news without doing her any harm; wait here for me, my good girl."

"How much she is beloved and respected," thought Lizette. "At length, then, I shall see her and speak to her!"

After the lapse of five minutes, which appeared as many ages to the impatience of the young girl, the distant rustle of a silk dress was heard, and Lizette fixed her eyes with a feeling that was almost terror on the door through which Gertrude had disappeared. It opened, and a tall and beautiful creature ran forward with extended arms, exclaiming, "Lizette, Lizette; welcome, welcome, my sister"-and taking both her hands with the most winning tenderness, she again said, Welcome, most welcome! How thankful I am that God put it into your heart to come to us! How is my nurse? But what is the matter? Have you no kiss for me? Surely you are not afraid of me?"

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Lizette was confounded. She was not prepared for such a reception, and if her gentle and ingenuous nature had ever harboured one feeling of hatred and resentment against her who had so innocently usurped her place, it gave way before these tender manifestations of spontaneous affection.

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My

"Dame Margaret is dead," answered Lizette. She had scarcely uttered the words, when she felt caressing arms around her neck, and the pressure of soft lips in an affectionate kiss. Alas, alas! but together we will weep for her," murmured Clotilda. poor nurse! And you came off to us at once: you knew you would find here a mother, and a sister too. Is it not so? How I love you for the thought! Yes, you are my sister, and everybody here must love, respect, and obey you. Do you hear me?" added she, turning to the servants who had been drawn into the passage by this little scene; this is a second Mademoiselle de Pons: we have shared the same milk; I deprived her of the half of her mother's caresses and cares; surely she has every right to the half of all that belongs to me. I must except, however, the half of my mother's love," said she, interrupting herself with somewhat of the air of a spoiled child; “but I will give you some little portion of it, Lizette, so do not be uneasy."

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"Oh, if I could but see her!" said poor Lizette, almost gasping for breath.

"See my mother!" said Clotilda; "you cannot see her yet; she is in bed; but come with me."

Lizette shrank back, and Clotilda now perceived the porter, and she instantly ordered that he should be paid and dismissed. "Come, come, dear sister," said she; "the joy of seeing you is too much for me. I feel quite faint; but I care not, it is all delight." And taking Lizette's hand, she led her through some splendidly-furnished rooms into a small apartment, where wealth had collected all that could be conceived most luxuriously useful, and most uselessly luxurious. "Now you are in my quarters," said Clotilda, as with gentle force she made Lizette sit down in a large arm-chair, and took a seat on a stool at her feet. "This is my

sitting-room, on the right is my bed-room, on the left my study; at the end of that alcove is a door opening into Gertrude's room; but I will send her to sleep elsewhere, and I will give you her room, so that we shall be together night and day. But perhaps you may not be a sound sleeper, and I may disturb you; I am so often so very ill during the night: I have such bad health, the slightest exertion brings on fever; feel my hand now, is it not burning?—all from the delight of seeing you. Any painful emotion must kill me, I am persuaded; and therefore it is that every one tries to spare me the least vexation. Everybody tries to please me, no one contradicts me, so that I am quite spoiled. But this delicacy I inherit from mamma. My father had a strong constitution, at least I have been told so; for, alas! I