She ran to the kitchen with the swiftness and lightness of a bird.

That staircase, so often traversed, which echoed to the slightest

noise, now lost its decaying aspect in the eyes of Eugenie. It grew

luminous; it had a voice and spoke to her; it was young like herself,

--young like the love it was now serving. Her mother, her kind,

indulgent mother, lent herself to the caprices of the child's love,

and after the room was put in order, both went to sit with the unhappy

youth and keep him company. Does not Christian charity make