The House of Providence was built on the highest point of Chaillot, in a healthful, beautiful spot, and was surrounded by a large, shady garden which served as pleasure grounds to its inmates.

The night was calm and serene, and the atmosphere was impregnated with the sweet fragrance of a profusion of spring blossoms, while numerous gas-jets illuminated the wide avenue that led to the entrance of the principal building.

The stranger, who still followed the throng, soon found himself in the midst of a semi-circle silently grouped around a high porch, listening to the following words from a voice that thrilled him with strange emotion:

"My friends," Louis was saying, "five years ago to-night, I lost the best of fathers in the frightful accident of the Versailles road. Being possessed of considerable wealth, my father might have lived in comfort and idleness; but he deprived himself of all luxury, working for his daily bread, slowly accumulating riches by his parsimony and augmenting them year by year by his abnegation. Then came his premature death, and I mourned over the loss of the greatest friend of humanity; for, according to his last wishes, I have consecrated his wealth to the accomplishment of three great and noble duties:

"Toward children.

"Toward young girls.

"Toward women whom age and infirmities render incapable of work.

"To poor children, my father has provided elementary instructions; to young girls, so often exposed to the seductions of vice, he has assured the pure and sweet joys of family life, so often denied to children of poverty; to aged or infirm women, he has given rest and comfort for the remainder of their days.

"These last wishes I have faithfully carried out to the limits of the means he has left me. The good thus done may be small in comparison to the innumerable miseries of humanity; but the man who does what he can, shares his bread with his famished brother and does his duty. This is a duty imposed on all alike, and all should strive to reach that ideal. My father conceived that generous thought—I am but the agent, the echo. The accomplishment of this glorious duty would fill my life with boundless felicity, were it not that I must weep over the death of a beloved and deeply regretted father."

As the speaker uttered the last words, a wild commotion spread through the assemblage; overcome by his emotion, the old mulatto had fallen unconscious in the arms of his neighbors. On hearing the cause of the sudden agitation, Louis ordered that the stranger be carried to his own apartments on the ground floor of the building, where he could receive prompt and careful attention; insisting at the same time that the wedding festivities should go on uninterrupted, and that Mariette and Madame Lacombe should preside in his place at the supper table in the garden.

In the meantime, the old man had been transported into Louis' study, which was furnished with the few odd pieces of furniture carried away from the old home so long shared in common between the father and son. When the young man entered, the stranger was still unconscious, his white hair falling in disorder over his brow and his unkempt beard almost totally concealing his features.

Frightened at his immobility, Louis despatched the attendant for a bottle of spirits; then bending over him he caught the emaciated hand to feel the pulse. As he peered anxiously into the withered face, the stranger turned slightly and uttered a few unintelligible words.

The sound of the voice struck him strangely. Bending lower he tried to distinguish the features of the patient; but the semi-obscurity of the room and the disordered hair and beard rendered his examination fruitless.

Then the mulatto's eyes opened slowly; raising his head languidly, his gaze wandered over the room and rested on the familiar objects.

"Where am I?" he murmured. "Is it a dream? My God! my God!"

This time the voice was more distinct and Louis trembled visibly; then a bitter smile came to his lips and he shook his head sadly.

"Alas!" he said, in a low tone, "what illusions sorrow will cause." Then turning to the patient, he added kindly: "Do you feel stronger now?"

At these words, the stranger sat bolt upright, and catching Louis' hand kissed it rapturously.

"There, don't agitate yourself," resumed the young man. "I have done nothing to win your gratitude. Some day I may be able to do more. But tell me how you feel. Was it fatigue or weakness that caused your swoon?"

The old man still remained silent, his head bowed down and pressing
Louis' hand convulsively to his breast.

A singular emotion filled the young man's heart, and the tears came into his eyes as he continued:

"Listen to me, father."

"Oh! again, again!" murmured the stranger, in a voice choked with emotion.

"Well, father—"

"Louis!" cried the old man, unable to control himself longer.

This single word, uttered with all the strength of his soul, was a revelation.

The young man started back as though a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, and stood for a moment pale and trembling, his gaze fixed on the haggard features before him. The commotion was too violent, the moral shock too deep, to allow him to realize the astounding truth at once. It seemed like the sudden transition of deep night to the bright sunshine, which dazzles and renders us momentarily blind.

Then the reality suddenly burst on his dazed senses; throwing himself on his knees beside the couch, he brushed back the disheveled white hair from the stranger's face, and scanned the featured of his father, disguised under a fictitious color. There was no longer any doubt; he threw his arms about the old man's neck, murmuring in a sort of filial delirium: "You!—you, my father—Heaven be praised!"

* * * * * *

"We shall not attempt to describe this first explosion of joy and delirious happiness. Who can paint those affectionate embraces, those tender words that come from the heart and throw the soul into an ecstacy of bliss? When the first emotion had finally subsided, however, Louis eagerly questioned his father concerning those long years of separation.

"My dear child," began the father, "I slept for five years and awakened for the first time two days ago. I was in the wrecked car with Ramon and his daughter; but through some inexplicable chance my life was spared, though my leg was fractured and the fright drove me mad."

"You, my father?"

"Yes, I completely lost my reason."

"Heavens! how terrible!"

"A kind surgeon carried me to a place of safety and afterward conveyed me to the Versailles asylum. I was perfectly harmless and spoke only of my lost treasures. For four years I remained in the same condition; then I gradually regained my reason, and two days since was pronounced cured. I cannot express what I experienced as memory came back to me, after these five years of slumber; but I blush to admit that my first thought was that of the miser. What had become of my wealth? what use had it been put to? The moment the doors of my prison opened before me, I flew to my notary's office. You can imagine his stupefaction when he recognized me. He then informed me that your first thought had been to act as trustee only to my riches, and to use merely enough for your existence until you reached the age of thirty-five. Then came your severe illness six months later, and fearing you might die without accomplishing your sacred task, you conceived other projects. 'What were these projects?' I asked. 'Wait until midnight to-morrow,' the notary replied, and go to the church at Chaillot. There you will learn all, and thank heaven to have given you such a son.' I had the patience to wait, my dear son, hoping to approach you without being recognized. Oh! my noble, beloved son! if you knew what I have heard and seen! Thanks to your grandeur of soul and the pious ruse of your filial affection, I found my name blessed and venerated! If you knew what sudden revolution took place in me! While blessings were showered on my memory, it seemed to me that my soul had burst its terrestrial chains and was hovering above the world, just as the souls of good men must hover above us, while listening to the expressions of love and gratitude from those whom they have benefitted. But, alas! this illusion was of short duration—-I was not deserving of these praises."

"You are mistaken, father," protested Louis. "Without your persevering economy I could never have accomplished anything. You placed the lever in my hand. My only merit has been to make good use of the immense force you concentrated at the price of innumerable sacrifices and privations. The horrible misery and the ignorance through which my beloved wife had suffered, the dangers to which they had exposed her, the cruel infirmity of her guardian, all these bitter things were a lesson to me; Mariette, her godmother and myself have tried, as far as it lay in our power, to spare others what we had suffered,—"

At this moment the door was burst suddenly open and Florestan de
Saint-Herem dashed, breathless into the room.

"Rejoice, oh! rejoice!" he cried, throwing himself into his friend's arms. "Saint-Ramon has performed the most wonderful of miracles!"

"What do you mean?" gasped the astonished Louis.

"Two hours ago I was completely ruined, and now I am richer than I ever was or ever will be. Only fancy, Louis, I am the possessor of gold mines, silver mines, diamonds of untold value, of fabulous riches—millions and millions, in fact! Oh! Saint-Ramon, how just I was to sanctify your name, to canonize you, for you are not ungrateful!"

"In mercy, explain yourself, Florestan!"

"One hour ago, as the ball was drawing to a close, a servant informed me that a lady had just arrived in a fiacre and requested to see me at once. Hastening to my apartments, I was amazed to find the Countess Zomaloff, a young and beautiful widow, quietly waiting for me. This charming woman was to have married the Duke de Riancourt within a week and had purchased my house during the evening. My surprise was so great that for a moment I was unable to utter a word.

"'Monsieur de Saint-Herem,' she said, without a tremor of agitation in her voice, 'you must forgive me for disturbing you, but I shall retain you a few moments only—I am a widow and twenty-eight years of age; I had promised to marry the duke, and would probably have been foolish enough to keep my word it I had not met you. You have a generous heart and a lofty soul; the fÊte you have given this evening proves it; I admire your intellect and character, and your person pleases me. As for me, the step I am taking now gives you the opportunity of judging my worth—You may think my actions strange, improper, or eccentric—you are at liberty to appreciate me as you wish. If your judgment is favorable, however, I shall be proud and happy to become Madame de Saint-Herem and inhabit the Saint-Ramon mansion with you. My wealth is fabulous, and you may dispose of it as you wish, for I confide my future blindly into your hands. I shall therefore await your decision anxiously. Good-night, Monsieur de Saint-Herem.'

"With these words the fairy vanished, my dear Louis, leaving me in such a state of dazzling happiness that I feared I would lose my reason."

"My dear Florestan," said his friend gravely, "the countess' frankness and blind confidence in you impose a great duty on you."

"I understand, my friend," rejoined Saint-Herem seriously. "I had a right to squander my own fortune; but to ruin a woman who trusts her whole future into my hands would be a piece of unparalleled infamy!"

* * * * * *

One month later, Louis Richard, with his father and Mariette, assisted at the nuptial benediction of Florestan de Saint-Herem and Madame Zomaloff.

Notwithstanding his father's resurrection, Louis still continues to dispense charity around him, greatly aided in the benevolent task by old Richard himself, who now exhibits as much zeal in relieving poverty and distress, as he formerly did in hoarding up his treasure and ministering to his one great passion or besetting sin—avarice.

May the twelfth is now doubly celebrated. A magnificent fÊte is given yearly by M. and Madame de Saint-Herem in honor of their first meeting, for the marriage of convenance has turned out to be one of love. But at midnight, they invariably leave the brilliantly illuminated Saint-Ramon mansion and accompany Louis and Mariette to their home, where they share the wedding supper of the six happy couples united on that day.

*******

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