The wound in Madeleine's head was dangerously near her temple. Her long swoon had been caused by the severity of the blow, and she was completely exhausted by her great loss of blood. When Dr. Bayard had examined her injuries and readjusted the bandage, Maurice bore her gently to her own chamber, clasping her closely in his arms as he went, and breathing over her words of tenderest endearment. He left her in Mrs. Lawkins' charge to be undressed and laid in bed, but even during that brief process, knocked several times at the door to urge the good house-keeper to make haste and admit him.

For nearly two months Maurice had been chained to the bedside of his suffering father, or his grandmother; he had been fully initiated into the duties of ministration, and upon the strength of his experience he claimed the entire care of the new invalid. What a luxury to him it was to watch over his beloved Madeleine! It seemed ungrateful of her to deprive him of the happiness by getting well too rapidly. As Ruth Thornton occupied the same room, Madeleine needed no watcher at night; but Maurice scarcely left her during the day. Her light food, her cooling drinks and calming potions, she received from his hands alone. Hour after hour, he sat and read to her,—sat and talked to her,—sat and looked at her,—and never was weary,—never was so superlatively happy in his life! He was jealous of any one who attempted to share his vigils; when Mrs. Lawkins approached, he playfully reminded her that they had agreed upon a division of labor, and Madame de Gramont was her patient; when Ruth and Bertha tried to press upon him their services, he had always some plea to peremptorily dismiss them both. Mrs. Walton was the only one in whose favor he relented a little. He allowed her to sit beside his charge for a couple of hours every day. How could he refuse when the presence of this invaluable friend gave Madeleine such true pleasure, and when Mrs. Walton was filled with such evident delight in watching the intercourse of these two kindred spirits, who to her eyes seemed created for partnership?

Madame de Gramont had daily, with a sort of ceremonious affection, inquired after Madeleine's health. Madeleine's first visit, when she was able to rise, was to her aunt; but Maurice would not allow his patient to attempt to walk without his supporting arm about her waist. We will not say that Madame de Gramont greeted Madeleine cordially; but she received her with marked consideration, and expressed satisfaction at beholding her able to move; this was the sole allusion she made to the accident. Maurice, who had grown thoroughly tyrannical, would only permit Madeleine to remain a few moments with his grandmother, and brought the interview to a sudden close.

Now that Madeleine was convalescent, she found great enjoyment in long, pleasant drives with Bertha, Maurice and Gaston. On bright days they left the carriage, and wandered into the woods to gather wild flowers, and rest beneath the trees. On one of these occasions, Madeleine was sitting upon a fallen tree, her lap filled with the flowers she had culled, and which she was weaving into a wreath. Bertha aided her work by selecting and handing the requisite flowers. Maurice was supplying her with luxuriant moss which she mingled among the bright blossoms. Gaston, lying at Bertha's feet, contemplated the lovely picture before him. The wreath was finished, and Madeleine wound it about Bertha's picturesque little hat,—not one of those unmeaning abominations which neither cover the head, nor shade the face, but a round straw hat, slightly turned up at the sides, and ornamented only by a single, black plume.

"Look, M. de Bois," said Madeleine, "is not my chaplet successful? Could anything be more becoming to Bertha?"

"Yes," answered Gaston, "there is one chaplet in which she would look still lovelier,—a wreath of orange-blossoms. Come, Bertha, are you not ready to reward my patience and forbearance? Will you not let me remember this day as one of our brightest, by telling me when you will wear that orange-blossom wreath?"

Bertha laid her head upon Madeleine's shoulder at the risk of crushing some of the wild flowers, and answered, "That depends upon Madeleine. I told you long ago that Madeleine should name the day."

"Come then, Mademoiselle Madeleine," Gaston pleaded; "do you speak!"

Maurice's eyes fervently seconded the adjuration.

Madeleine answered, with the perverseness of her sex, "You ought to return to Charleston, Maurice."

"I know I ought; but do not imagine I mean to do what I ought to do, until you have done what you ought to do as an example; if you do that, you will tell me when I may return to claim my bride."

"You shall know to-morrow," said Madeleine, "but only on condition that neither of you gentlemen mention the subject again to-day."

Both lovers promised; but, simply because a condition had been made, they every moment experienced the strongest temptation to disregard the stipulation.

That night Madeleine and Bertha had a long conversation,—"a woman's talk," such as maidens, and matrons too, delight in, all the world over. They decided that Maurice must leave at once for Charleston, and remain three months, only returning the day before the one appointed for his nuptials. The double wedding was to take place in church; the bridal party to return to Madeleine's and, after a collation, leave for Philadelphia, and the day following for New York. The countess, accompanied by Gaston and Bertha, would sail at once for Havre, and Maurice, and Madeleine take up their abode in Charleston. Bertha's plans, after she reached France, were left to be determined by circumstances.

Madame de Gramont was the first one apprised of this arrangement, and it met with her full approval. She rejoiced at the certainty of seeing her beloved chÂteau again; and, though she spoke not one word to that effect, experienced great relief at being spared the necessity of appearing in Brittany with Madeleine, whose presence must necessarily cause abundant gossip.

Maurice and Gaston were warned that the penalty of a single remonstrance against these plans would be a month added to their period of probation. Maurice compromised by pleading that instead of leaving Washington at once, he might be permitted to remain until the close of the week.

The French ambassador had been much chagrined at the prospect of parting with Gaston. It was tolerably difficult to find a person who was not always seeking his own interests, or meddling in diplomatic affairs, to supply M. de Bois's place. When M. de Fleury was informed that the period for Gaston's departure was settled, he urged him to promise to return within six months, saying that he would only engage a secretary pro tem. in the hope of M. de Bois occupying his former position.

As the young French maidens were orphans, and of high family, M. de Fleury offered to assume the office of father in giving them away, and the flattering proposition was particularly acceptable to the countess.

Ronald Walton was to be the groomsman of Maurice, and Madeleine made her humble friend Ruth, the happiest of maidens, by inviting her to officiate as bridesmaid. Bertha needed a bridesmaid and groomsman, since her cousin would be thus attended, and she chose Lady Augusta Linden and her fiancÉ, Mr. Rutledge, through whose influence Madeleine had obtained a vote of so much importance to Maurice.

These nuptial arrangements seemed to give general satisfaction, with one exception; Mr. Walton declared that he was unfairly treated; that he meant to be assigned some office; and as his son was Madeleine's groomsman, and as he was not himself qualified to be Bertha's, he must be allowed to act as the father of the latter. M. de Fleury, he said, ought to be contented with the rÔle of father to one of the brides. Bertha, who had been charmed by the courtly manners and delightful conversation of this agreeable gentleman, cordially consented.

Once more Madeleine and Maurice were to be parted; and even this brief separation tested their fortitude. The Waltons accompanied Maurice, and were to return with him to Washington.

On his arrival in Charleston, he had cause to be flattered by the hearty greeting of his partner. Maurice plunged at once into professional duties; but another employment helped to speed the time,—a truly charming occupation,—the preparation of a home for his bride.

Mrs. Walton assisted the young lawyer in the agreeable task of selecting furniture, and making those arrangements which demanded a woman's hand.

A never-failing happiness flowed to Maurice from the exchange of letters with Madeleine. Each day commenced with the sending, and closed with the receiving, of one of these precious paper messengers. But Madeleine's letters, by no means, came under the head of "love letters." She could not have poured out upon paper, any more than she could have spoken, the fulness and depth of her affection; but Maurice found inexhaustible delight in what she wrote, which was always suggestive of so much left unsaid.

Madeleine rented her house to Ruth, who now became the head of the establishment which "Mademoiselle Melanie" had rendered so popular. At Madeleine's suggestion, Ruth had written to her widowed mother and young sister and requested them to make their future home with her. That letter was read by streaming eyes, and its contents filled to overflowing two joyful hearts.

Mrs. Lawkins was to accompany Madeleine to Charleston and take charge of her household there.

Madeleine proposed closing her establishment on the day of her wedding; for she well knew that her employÉes would desire to witness the ceremony. And she further evinced her thoughtfulness by ordering a bountiful collation to be spread in the apartments usually devoted to business, at the same time that the table was prepared for her own bridal party in the apartments beneath.

Madeleine and Bertha had both apprised their bridegrooms elect that they preferred to forego the French custom of receiving the usual corbeille, containing laces, India shawls, jewelry, etc., etc., adding that some simple bridal token would be more acceptable.

The day before the wedding arrived, and with it Maurice and the Waltons.

We will not attempt to paint the meeting between Maurice and Madeleine,—it was too full of joy for language, too sacred for description,—but pass on to the events of the evening when the exchange of bridal gifts was made.

Maurice fastened about Madeleine's white throat a small chain of Venetian gold, to which was suspended a cross of rare pearls; and on the back of the cross were inscribed these words of the prophet,—

"Labor is worship."

M. de Bois, knowing that Bertha was only too well supplied with gems, had experienced great difficulty in selecting a bridal gift. But, after many consultations with Madeleine, he chose a set of cameos cut in stone. The necklace and bracelets were composed of angel heads; but his own likeness was cut upon the brooch, and that of Madeleine on the medallion that formed the centre of the bracelet. Who can doubt that Bertha was enchanted with her gift?

Madame de Gramont presented each of her nieces with a handkerchief of rich old lace, very rare and no longer purchasable.

Madeleine placed in Bertha's hands a magnificently bound volume; it contained Mrs. Browning's poems illustrated, in water colors, by Madeleine herself. Many of the paintings were exquisite, but those which represented "Lady Geraldine's Courtship," far surpassed all the others.

And now came the great surprise of the evening,—the disclosure of a secret which Gaston and Bertha had carefully guarded. Bertha, in her clingingly affectionate way, knelt down beside Madeleine, and laid in her lap two ancient-looking jewel-cases, her bridal gift to Madeleine. How Madeleine started and trembled at the sight! Well she knew those caskets, but her shaking hands could not press the springs by which they were secured. Bertha lifted their lids and disclosed the diamonds and emeralds which had been the bridal jewels of Lady Katrine Nugent, Madeleine's great-great-grandmother; the jewels which Madeleine had been forced to part with to obtain herself subsistence; the jewels whose design she had imitated on the dress which first made her "fairy fingers" known to Vignon; the jewels Bertha had recognized when they were worn by Madame de Fleury; the jewels which in attempting to trace to their owner, Maurice had suffered so terribly. These memorable jewels were restored through Gaston's agency. He had related to M. de Fleury their history, and Mademoiselle de Merrivale's desire to repurchase them. The marquis had promised acquiescence in the young lady's wishes if Madame de Fleury's consent could be obtained. Gaston and Bertha paid the ambassador's wife a visit of persuasion. Gaston was an especial favorite, and Madame de Fleury loved Madeleine as well as it was possible for her to love any one. Her yielding up these jewels was a high proof of the noble couturiÈre's power over her frivolous heart.

What bride does not smile when she sees the sun shine into her chamber on the nuptial morning? The sun shone gloriously on the bridal day of Madeleine and Bertha. The ceremony was to take place at any early hour,—no invitations were issued,—the bridal party was to meet at Madeleine's to go to church.

Madeleine and Bertha were attired precisely alike, and with severe simplicity; they both wore dresses of white silk, made close to the throat. (A dÉcoltÉ attire would not be tolerated at a Parisian bridal.) Their veils were circular and of point lace; their chaplets of natural orange blossoms woven by Madeleine herself. Madeleine had not intended to wear any ornament, save the cross Maurice had presented her, but Bertha insisted on clasping Lady Katrine Nugent's bridal bracelet on her cousin's arm, and fastening her tiny lace collar with the lily and shamrock brooch. Bertha, herself, wore Gaston's cameos, and could scarcely restrain her joyful tears when she fastened on her fair bosom the brooch which represented her lover's countenance, and the bracelet that bore her beloved Madeleine's. She was adorned with the images of the two most dear on earth.

Need we say that both brides were supremely lovely? Gazing at Bertha's sweet, unclouded face, that looked out from among the wealth of golden ringlets, and noting the soft light in her blue eyes, the delicate rose-flush that came and went on her cheeks, one might well declare that nothing more beautiful could be found, until the gazer turned to Madeleine. Her face was colorless with emotion, yet its paleness only rendered the sculpturesque beauty of her features more striking; her eyes were downcast, and thus one missed their clear lustre and holy expression; yet the long lashes were some compensation, and her look was so spiritual, so saint-like in its beauty, that nothing mortal could have been lovelier.

For one moment only were Maurice and Gaston permitted to greet their brides, and then they were hurried into the carriages which awaited them.

Though no invitations had been given, the church was densely crowded. When the nuptial procession entered, the suppressed murmur of many voices sounded like the rushing of distant waves. First came Madame de Gramont, leaning on the arm of Maurice; they were followed by Ronald and Ruth Thornton; Madeleine, led by the Marquis de Fleury, followed. Then came the second party, Gaston with Mrs. Walton on his arm; Lady Augusta and Mr. Rutledge; Bertha, led by Mr. Walton, not the least proud and happy man of that large assembly.

At times, during the ceremony, low sobs were audible; they came from Madeleine's employÉes, who could not wholly control their grief, as the certainty of losing their gentle mistress forced itself upon them.

The newly made wives passed out of the church conducted by their husbands and returned to Madeleine's residence.

During the collation the brides stood together at the head of the table. The French ambassador and Mr. Walton were the life of the festive board, and infused an element of gayety which the small assemblage would have lacked without their aid, for a happy silence had fallen upon the nuptial party. Besides these gentlemen, Mr. Meredith and Mr. Hilson were the only strangers present.

The brides left the company to assume their travelling attire; but Madeleine, before she made this change, stole to the apartment where her needle-women were at table, with Victorine at the head, and spoke a word of kindly farewell to each, in turn. There were no dry eyes in that room.

Maurice was more than satisfied with Madeleine's approval of the pleasant abode he had chosen. Many and joyous were the years he and his beloved companion passed under that roof. One year after their marriage it also sheltered for a time Gaston and Bertha. Madame de Gramont died soon after her return to Brittany.

"There is a kind of physiognomy in the titles
of books no less than in the faces of
men, by which a skilful observer
will know as well what to expect
from the one as the
other."—Butler.

NEW BOOKS

And New Editions Recently Issued by