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to give me her address。”
“Her address！” and a sombre and stony change came over the
mien of the directress。 “Her address？ Ah？—well—I wish I could
oblige you； monsieur； but I cannot； and I will tell you why；
whenever I myself asked her for her address； she always evaded
the inquiry。 I thought—I may be wrong—but I thought her motive
for doing so； was a natural； though mistaken reluctance to
introduce me to some； probably； very poor abode； her means were
narrow； her origin obscure； she lives somewhere； doubtless； in the
‘basse ville。’”
“I’ll not lose sight of my best pupil yet；” said I； “though she
were born of beggars and lodged in a cellar； for the rest； it is
absurd to make a bugbear of her origin to me—I happen to know
that she was a Swiss pastor’s daughter； neither more nor less； and；
as to her narrow means； I care nothing for the poverty of her purse
so long as her heart overflows with affluence。”
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“Your sentiments are perfectly noble； monsieur；” said the
directress； affecting to suppress a yawn； her sprightliness was now
extinct； her temporary candour shut up； the little； red…coloured；
piratical…looking pennon of audacity she had allowed to float a
minute in the air； was furled； and the broad； sober…hued flag of
dissimulation again hung low over the citadel。 I did not like her
thus； so I cut short the tête…à…tête and departed。
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Chapter XIX
ovelists should never allow themselves to weary of the
Nstudy of real life。 If they observed this duty
conscientiously； they would give us fewer pictures
chequered with vivid contrasts of light and shade； they would
seldom elevate their heroes and heroines to the heights of
rapture—still seldomer sink them to the depths of despair； for if
we rarely taste the fulness of joy in this life； we yet more rarely
savour the acrid bitterness of hopeless anguish； unless； indeed； we
have plunged like beasts into sensual indulgence； abused；
strained； stimulated； again overstrained； and； at last； destroyed
our faculties for enjoyment； then； truly； we may find ourselves
without support； robbed of hope。 Our agony is great； and how can
it end？ We have broken the spring of our powers； life must be all
suffering—too feeble to conceive faith—death must be darkness—
God； spirits； religion can have no place in our collapsed minds；
where linger only hideous and polluting recollections of vice； and
time brings us on to the brink of the grave； and dissolution flings
us in—a rag eaten through and through with disease； wrung
together with pain； stamped into the churchyard sod by the
inexorable heel of despair。
But the man of regular life and rational mind never despairs。
He loses his property—it is a blow—he staggers a moment； then；
his energies； roused by the smart； are at work to seek a remedy；
activity soon mitigates regret。 Sickness affects him； he takes
patience—endures what he cannot cure。 Acute pain racks him； his
writhing limbs know not where to find rest； he leans on Hope’s
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anchors。 Death takes from him what he loves； roots up； and tears
violently away the stem round which his affections were twined—a
dark； dismal time； a frightful wrench—but some morning Religion
looks into his desolate house with sunrise； and says； that in
another world； another life； he shall meet his kindred again。 She
speaks of that world as a place unsullied by sin—of that life； as an
era unembittered by suffering； she mightily strengthens her
consolation by connecting with it two ideas—which mortals
cannot comprehend； but on which they love to repose—Eternity；
Immortality； and the mind of the mourner； being filled with an
image； faint yet glorious； of heavenly hills all light and peace—of a
spirit resting there in bliss—of a day when his spirit shall also
alight there； free and disembodied—of a reunion perfected by
love； purified from fear—he takes courage—goes out to encounter
the necessities and discharge the duties of life； and； though
sadness may never lift her burden from his mind； Hope will enable
him to support it。
Well—and what suggested all this？ and what is the inference to
be drawn therefrom？ What suggested it； is the circumstance of my
best pupil—my treasure—being snatched from my hands； and put
away out of my reach； the inference to be drawn from it is—that；
being a steady； reasonable man； I did not allow the resentment；
disappointment； and grief； engendered in my mind by this evil
chance； to grow there to any monstrous size； nor did I allow them
to monopolize the whole space of my heart； I pent them； on the
contrary； in one strait and secret nook。 In the daytime； too； when I
was about my duties； I put them on the silent system； and it was
only after I had closed the door of my chamber at night that I
somewhat relaxed my severity towards these morose nurslings；
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and allowed vent to their language of murmurs； then； in revenge；
they sat on my pillow； haunted my bed； and kept me awake with
their long； midnight cry。
A week passed。 I had said nothing more to Mdlle Reuter。 I had
been calm in my demeanour to her； though stony cold and hard。
When I looked at her； it was with the glance fitting to be bestowed
on one who I knew had consulted jealousy as an adviser； and
employed treachery as an instrument—the glance of quiet disdain
and rooted distrust。 On Saturday evening； ere I left the house； I
stept into the salle…à…manger； where she was sitting alone； and；
placing myself before her； I asked； with the same tranquil tone and
manner that I should have used had I put the question for the first
time—
“Mademoiselle； will you have the goodness to give me the
address of Frances Evans Henri？”
A little surprised； but not disconcerted； she smilingly
disclaimed any knowledge of that address； adding； “Monsieur has
perhaps forgotten that I explained all about that circumstance
before—a week ago？”
“Mademoiselle；” I continued； “you would greatly oblige me by
directing me to that young person’s abode。”
She seemed somewhat puzzled； and； at last； looking up with an
admirably counterfeited air of naiveté； she demanded； “Does
Monsieur think I am telling an untruth？”
Still avoiding to give her a direct answer； I said； “It is not then
your intention； mademoiselle； to oblige me in this particular？”
“But； monsieur； how can I tell you what I do not know？”
“Very well； I understand you perfectly； mademoiselle； and now
I have only two or three words to say。 This is the last week in July；
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in another month the vacation will commence I have the goodness
to avail yourself of the leisure it will afford you to look out for
another English master—at the close of