“Use it for generous deeds and noble aims. It can be in no better hands than yours, my brother, and as for me —

  “But I do not wish to write about myself, only about you. Let me think of you alone; can any words of mine have the power to touch you.

  “You never think now of doing away with yourself, do you? it would be terrible, a crime. My uncle often dwells on the probable length of his life; but you, my dear Amaury, are but at the beginning of yours.

  “I do not know, but then I know very little of these matters, but it seems to me there is a wide difference between your lot and his, your duties and his. You can never love again, I know, but others may love you, and after all it is a great blessing to be loved.

  “You must not die, Amaury, you must not — always remember Madeleine; but when the ocean lies before you, compare its vastness with your trouble. Oh! that I could find words to express what I would say. Let your thoughts dwell on the beauties which surround you, on that eternal nature whose winters are but harbingers of spring, whose apparent deaths conceal as many resurrections.

  “Just as beneath these snows and frosts, Amaury, there beats, beneath your sorrow and your anguish, life full and free and strong. Do not misuse the gifts of God, be comforted if it be His will, live, if He so ordains.

  “Forgive me, Amaury, for writing as I do in the fullness of my heart; but when I think of you, far away, alone, desolate and sad, such a world of sisterly, I had almost said motherly, compassion, wells up in my heart for you, that it gives me courage and strength to send this message to the friend of my youth, the betrothed of Madeleine:

  “You must live, Amaury! —

  “ANTOINETTE DE VALGENCEUSE.’

  CHAPTER XL.

  AMAURY TO ANTOINETTE

  “15th October.

  “HERE I am at Amsterdam.

  “Although I have estranged myself as much as I dare from the outside world, although self-absorbed, and ceaselessly weighed down by the burden of my wrecked hopes, I cannot refrain from watching and studying this Dutch people, at once methodical and active, avaricious and careless, sedentary and birds of passage, going gladly to Java, Malabar or Japan, — but never to Paris.

  “The Dutch are the Chinese of Europe, the beavers of the human race.

  “Your letter reached me at Antwerp, dear Antoinette, and did me a world of good.

  “Your sympathy is sweet to me, but my wound is deep. Never mind, send me again some comforting words and tell me about yourself. I ask, I implore, I beseech you to do so. It is wrong of you to consider me indifferent to what concerns you.

  “You find Monsieur d’Avrigny sadly altered. Do not let yourself be unhappy about it, Antoinette, for after all it is but kind to hope for each what he most desires for himself. The more depressed he feels, the happier will he be; and the worse you find him, the better, I know, will he find himself.

  “You ask me to tell you again and always of Madeleine. This affords me an opportunity of writing you much oftener; for, of whom should I write you, if not of her. She is ever before me, within me, around me; therefore nothing comforts me more than to recall to memory sweet visions of my darling.

  “Now I will tell you how we first became aware of our love for each other, and how it was revealed to each of us. It was on an evening in spring; now two years and a half ago. We two were sitting in the garden under the group of lime-trees; from the window of your dressing-room you can see the very spot.

  “Greet it in my name, Antoinette; greet the whole garden, for there is not an inch of ground in it which her dear foot has not pressed, not a single tree which her veil, her scarf, her handkerchief, or her hand has not touched, not a nook where her sweet voice has not waked an echo.

  “It was then, on an evening in spring, when we two were alone and chatting merrily together, that having exhausted the present, we plunged gaily into the future.

  “You know, though my darling had a sad look, she was usually very bright! Well we began to talk laughingly about marriage; we did not yet speak of love. What qualities were necessary to win the heart of Madeleine?

  “What charms to touch mine?

  “And we drew up a programme of the perfections we should exact from the chosen one, the lucky mortal; then, on comparing notes, we found our ideas much alike.

  “‘First of all,’ I said, ‘I can only bestow my love on one whom I have known for many years, whose mind is an open book to me.’

  “‘Oh! I am of your opinion,’ said Madeleine; ‘when a stranger makes love to us, to use the old-time expression, we may often be deceived by a face which is nothing but a mask. The unknown puts on with his black coat a set ideal, and not until the day after the marriage, do we really know the man whom we have married.’

  “‘Then,’ I replied with a smile, ‘we are agreed on that point I should wish to have satisfied myself, through a long friendship, of the worth and virtues of my loved one. Of course, I should expect to find in her, — though it would perhaps be over-exacting, the three indispensable qualifications of beauty, goodness, and wit; this would surely be the easiest thing in the world.’

  “‘Yes! but alas! the rarest! ‘Madeleine replied.

  “‘You evidently have a good opinion of yourself,’ I replied.

  “‘On the contrary,’ she said, ‘perhaps you would consider me too ambitious, in demanding, from my future husband, the corresponding qualities to those which you require in your wife — namely, elegance, devotion, manliness.’

  “‘Oh! if that is so, my dear Madeleine, you will have to wait a long time.’

  “‘Do not be so vain, Amaury,’ Madeleine laughingly replied, ‘but finish the description of your ideal.’

  “‘Well! ‘I continued, ‘I do not think I have anything more to add, unless it be one or two minor considerations; for instance, is it childish to wish that she should be of as good birth as myself.’

  “‘Indeed no, Amaury, and if ever you mention this subject to my father, who is as you know, both of gentle birth and undoubted intelligence, he will bring forward in support of your theory, his own ideas on the importance of equality of social position; and although I may not understand his theories, yet I instinctively share them, for I sincerely wish my husband may be a gentleman born.’

  “‘Well,’ I went on, ‘although thank God, I am not covetous, yet I would wish, for my wife’s sake, and in the interests of our moral equality, so that our minds should not be troubled by any question of material advantage, I would wish that my chosen one should be about as rich as myself. Do you not agree with me, Madeleine?’

  “‘I do, Amaury, though I must admit that I have never given this question a thought, as I am rich enough for both; still I think you are right.’

  “‘Then there remains but one question to solve.’

  “‘And that is?’

  “‘Whether, when I have discovered the fairy of my fancy, and grown to love her, whether she will return my love.’ “‘Can you doubt it, Amaury?’

  “‘Well! can you reassure me on this point?’

  “‘Decidedly I can, Amaury, I will answer for her — but what about me, will he love me?’

  “‘He will worship you, Madeleine, I am certain.’

  “‘Very well,’ said Madeleine, ‘now let us try to convert fancy into fact; let us look around us; amongst those whom we know, can you think of anyone who answers to your description, Amaury?

  As to me — ’

  “She stopped short, and a hot flush rose to her face.

  We looked at each other in complete silence. The truth was beginning to dawn upon us.

  “I fixed my eyes on Madeleine, and as if speaking to myself, repeated the words: “‘A dear friend, one known from childhood.’

  “‘A friend whose heart I may read as I do my own,’ said Madeleine.

  “‘Sweet, beautiful, intellectual — ’

  “‘Charming, generous, manly — ’

  “‘Rich and of good birth — ’

  “‘Of good birth and rich — ’

  “‘That is to say with all the charms that you possess, Madeleine.’

  “‘That is to say, one who has all your virtues, Amaury.’

  “‘Oh! ‘I cried with a beating heart, ‘if only a woman like yourself loved me.’

  “‘Why! ‘said Madeleine, growing pale, ‘have you ever thought of me?’

  “‘Madeleine!’

  “‘Amaury!’

  “‘Yes, Madeleine, I love you! ‘“‘Amaury, I love you! ‘“With these words we were folded in each other’s arms, and heaven seemed to open before us; then for the first time we saw clearly into each other’s hearts.

  “But is it wise of me to revive these memories, Antoinette; they are very sweet, but very heart-breaking.

  “Will you address your next letter to Cologne, and I will write you from there.

  “Good-bye, my sister, love me a little and pity me much.

  “Your brother,

  “AMAURY.”

  “It is strange,” said Amaury to himself, sealing his letter and going over its contents in his mind, “it is strange, but, of all the women I know, Antoinette is now the only one in the world who might in any way realize my former dreams, if these dreams, these dear old dreams, were not buried with my beloved Madeleine. Antoinette too has been my friend since childhood, sweet, beautiful, intellectual, rich and of gentle birth.

  “It is true,” he added with a sad smile, “that Antoinette does not love me, nor do I love her.”

  CHAPTER XLI.

  ANTOINETTE TO AMAURY

  “5th November.

  “I HAVE seen my uncle again, Amaury, have spent another day with him just like the previous one, noticed the same symptoms of depression, said and listened to almost the same words. Therefore I have absolutely nothing fresh to tell you about him.

  “Nor have I any news about myself.

  “With your usual thoughtfulness, you wish that I should speak to you about myself. But what can I have to say on this subject! — God alone is witness and judge of my thoughts; and as to my doings, I assure you they are very simple and very monotonous.

  “My days are filled up with household cares, a girl’s ordinary occupations, embroidery and music.

  “Occasional visits from some of Monsieur d’Avrigny’s old friends come as a welcome break in the monotony of my life.

  “But there are only two names which now have power to give me real pleasure; the one is that of Monsieur de Mengis, for the Count and his wife are kindness itself, and treat me, in every way, as their own daughter.

  “The other, I may own it to you, Amaury, is that of your friend Philip Auvray.

  “Yes! M. Philippe Auvray is the only visitor, under sixty years of age, whom I receive, — of course in the presence of Miss Brown; and why is he so privileged? certainly not on account of his powers of conversation, for he is deadly dull and bores me terribly.

  “But, since I must be frank, because of his friendship for you, my brother.

  “Not that he ever says much about you; but it gives me an opportunity of talking about you to one who knows you well, and I do not miss it.

  “He comes, bows, sits down, and when anyone else is there, maintains a solemn silence, whilst they are in the room, simply looking at me in a persistent manner which I sometimes find somewhat embarrassing.

  “If I am alone with Miss Brown, he grows bolder; but, I own to you, that even then he is bold but to the extent of saying a few occasional words, leaving the whole burden of the conversation to me, and I assure you, Amaury, you and Madeleine form our only topic of conversation.

  “Because why should I conceal the truth from so sensitive, so noble a heart as yours, Amaury? The soul craves for affection as the lungs do for air, and my love for you is part of my past life, and probably the only affection which I may hope for in the future.

  “To be perfectly frank, the loneliness of my life appals me, and I complain of it to you because I am unable to hide the truth either from others or myself; perhaps it is wrong of me to feel as I do, but I long for some distraction, long to get about, to walk in the sunshine, to see the world, — in fact to live —

  “I feel cold and rather frightened in these great rooms, and face to face with these white busts and inscrutable portraits, alas! the old Antoinette comes to life again.

  “Therefore Philip, who as you know, is stolid and taciturn, gives me an opportunity of having a little quiet fun at his expense, for I am inwardly laughing at him when he is here, and Miss Brown and I joke over him when he has gone. I cannot respect him — I am sorry to say —

  “Scold me, my friend, scold me for indulging in this habit of laughing at some one whom you care for.

  “Scold me, Amaury, for I believe you are the only being who would be able, if you cared to take the trouble, to correct my many faults.

  “But, Amaury, I am weary of hearing about you through him, I want you to write and tell me about yourself; are you feeling better in mind? what do you think about? what do you feel?

  “Between you and my uncle, my life is a sad one. I am crushed and overwhelmed by the sorrow of you both.

  “Do have confidence in me, my dear brother, I beseech you, and help me to feel less lonely; make some allowance for this weaker mind, which is afraid, and weeps alone.

  “Do you know, there are some days when I envy Madeleine; she died surrounded by love, and is now happy in heaven, whilst I am buried alive, in solitude and forgetfulness.

  “ANTOINETTE DE VALGENCEUSE.”

  CHAPTER XLII.

  AMAURY TO ANTOINETTE

  “Cologne,”

  10th December.”

  “YOU reproach me, Antoinette, with not telling you much about myself; so to punish you, I am going to write the most selfish letter imaginable, and shall begin by filling two or three sheets with nothing but my own doings, and afterwards drift into two or three lines about yourself at the end.

  “Then will you be satisfied? “Here I am at Cologne, or rather just opposite Cologne at Deutz.

  “I am staying at the Hotel Bellevue, and from my windows have a good view of the Rhine and the town. It is a glorious outlook; the sun is setting behind the old town, and in these clear wintry days, its massive houses and church spires stand out with magnificent effect, gloomy and dark, against the brilliant background.

  “The river flows noisily below, alive with many-hued reflections, now red, now black, almost always sinister, but in either case, of surpassing beauty.

  “I spend hours in ecstasies over this marvellous picture dominated by the two massive fragments of the, fortunately, still unfinished Cathedral.

  “Alas! when the masons, instigated by vanity, shall have completed the work of the old architects inspired by faith, then no longer will the sun be able to shed the light of God through the midst of the edifice built by human hands, nor change into a fiery furnace the abyss, formed by those two sublime fragments.

  “All these pictures have an artistic interest for me.

  “Truly, I love this town; it is both ancient and modern, venerable and gay; it both thinks and acts.

  “Ah! if only Madeleine were here, watching with me the sun go down behind the Cathedral of Cologne.

  “My banker insisted on providing me with a letter of introduction to the Casino; of course I do not attend any of the evening performances, but during the day, that is to say when these large halls are empty because the season-ticket holders are about their daily business, I am glad to spend an hour or two reading the papers.

  “And yet, I own to you, Antoinette, I had at first great difficulty in overcoming my unwillingness to look at a newspaper again; to wade through these twelve columns which contained not a single word of any interest to me; this gay Parisian world which laughs and takes its pleasures; all this European equipoise which the sorrow of the individual however deep, however terrible it be, affects not one iota in its appointed course, all this roused in me a feeling of disgust, amounting almost to rage. Finally I said to myself, ‘After all what is the death of my darling Madeleine to all these people? Only one woman less on earth, one angel more in heaven.’--

  “How selfish I am to wish that other men should share my grief, when I do not participate in their sorrow.

  “So I gradually took up these papers which I had discarded at one fell swoop, and now feel interested in reading them again.

  “Do you know that I have been almost three months away from France. Truly, it appals me sometimes when I see, that in a given time the days pass as quickly to a soul in trouble as to one in joy.

  “It seems but yesterday that Madeleine lay stretched on her bed, I holding one of her hands, her father the other, while you, Antoinette, were vainly trying to warm her feet, already grown cold in the icy clasp of death.

  “Only when abroad, Antoinette, do we realize this great truth, that the life in Paris is the only real life; everywhere else one vegetates more or less.

  “But only in Paris do we find true growth of mind and advancement of thought; and yet Antoinette, I think I could be content to remain here a long while, if only there were some one with me to whom I might speak of her, if you were here to see and enjoy with me these beauties of nature, and to revel as I do in these beautiful landscapes which are unfolded before my eyes when I watch the Rhine bathed in this glorious sun.

  “Oh! for a hand to press within my own, when, in rapturous silence, I stand, for hours together, at my window, for a sympathetic look to reflect back my own impressions, a heart into which to pour them.

  “But no — my destiny now is to live and die alone.

  “You ask me to tell you of myself, Antoinette; why should I sadden you with all my sorrows, you who frankly own that loneliness is unbearable to you, and that you long to share another’s life? —