reasons already assigned, she thought of another expedient; and, in order to attain her end, she induced Matilda to invite her to spend a holiday at her grandfather's, M. André. Permission having readily been granted them, Angelique readily left the school furnished with her letter, which she had concealed in her dress.

Matilda, in order to make the day more agreeable to her friend, had extended the invitation to several relatives, so that they formed a party of five or six young ladies of the same age, which made their games more animated. Angelique, absorbed in her project, suggested "hide and seek," and availed herself of this opportunity to find her brother Noel, whom she had not yet seen anywhere. He had discovered her in the middle of her young companions; but, too proud and sensitive to expose himself a second time to her contempt, had taken care to keep at a distance. He was working at the end of the garden, which, notwithstanding its small dimensions, contained so many tortuous paths, rows of bushes and green hedges, that it was easy for any one to conceal himself. His surprise was great to see Angelique suddenly appear at his side, and call him by name in a suppressed but affectionate tone of voice. Noel trembled, and continued to take a path as though he heard nothing.

'Noel, my dear Noel, answer me, I entreat,” said Angelique.

"Are you speaking to me, mademoiselle?" the little gardener said, taking off his hat ceremoniously.

"You are very angry with me," replied Angelique, casting her eyes down; "and I allow that I deserve your indignation."

"You, mademoiselle! Pray how can a poor servant have any cause of complaint against you?"

"Look at me, Noel, for I begin to think you do not know me."

"Excuse me, you are the generous young lady from whom I received a piece of money the other day for having brought a heliotrope."

"I was very wrong.

What can I do more than ask your pardon for it? Will you not forgive me, brother?"”

"You are laughing at me, mademoiselle. Is a brother rewarded with money? I do not know if you have one; as for me, I have no sister I protest."

"When you have done jesting, Noel, I hope you will listen to me seriously." "I do not jest with young ladies of your rank,-it does not become a poor servant."

"Since you persist in this," replied Angelique, mortified, "I have not time any longer to try and overcome your obstinacy; but, perhaps, you will not object to do me a great service."

"That depends upon circumstances. You pay well, I know. Still, although I be in a humble condition, I would not willingly receive an ill-earned reward.

"Is there any harm in my writing to my benefactress?"'

"No; but you can do that without my assistance."

"The letter is written; here it is. I only want you to have it posted."

"The person to whom you are writing is at the waters of Vichy, not at Paris." "How do you know that?"

"It is a fact."

"It is impossible! I should have heard something about it."

"You may doubt it if you please; but I shall take the liberty of observing that a young lady ought not to write a letter unknown to her governess. Such is the rule it is said."

"I have reasons for not conforming to it."

"Very well; I have also mine for not taking charge of your letter."

"My dear brother!"

"Pray, mademoiselle, think to whom you are talking and what you say.”

"This is too much!” exclaimed Angelique, stamping with her foot in anger. "What then shall I do?"

"Wait patiently until Madame de St. Yves returns; and if, during her absence, you experience such great vexations, try to profit by them, and thus prepare your self for the more serious ones which await you in the world."

I do not know what Angelique, driven to extremity, was going to reply, when the approach of her companions obliged her to terminate this conversation, which she had not an opportunity of resuming.

In the evening she sorrowfully accompanied the teacher who had to take her back to school, looking in vain for a post office into which she might adroitly slip her letter, when cries of alarm were heard behind her. A horse, which had broken loose, was at full galop, kicking in such a manner as to terrify the passers-by. The frightened teacher rushed into the gate of an hotel, calling upon Angelique to follow her; but the alarmed child rapidly descended the steep street which was before her, and ran to the end without stopping. Scarcely had she recovered from her fright than she thought of taking advantage of the circumstance by disposing of her letter. Then, recollecting what Noel had told her about Madame Olympe's absence, she asked herself whether it would not be better to go to La Place des Victoires, where she was sure of finding Hersilia, than by returning to school, to expose herself to the disgrace which awaited her.

Her natural temerity made her adopt the latter course; and she was already directing her steps towards the capital, when the sight of an omnibus decided her upon making use of it, as much for the sake of avoiding the fatigue of a long walk across unknown streets as to evade more readily the pursuit of the teacher.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE ATTEMPTED BURGLARY.

ANGELIQUE endeavoured, by the light of the lamps, to read the names of the streets, but unsuccessfully, as the reader may imagine. Several people came in and went out again; two gentlemen, however, by Angelique's side, kept their places. At last she ventured to ask one of them whose countenance seemed the more prepossessing, where the omnibus was going. He replied by another question. "Where do you want to go to, mademoiselle?"

"To La place des Victoires."

"This is not the road to it," he replied, laughing; "but how is it that you are alone at such a distance ?"

"I have lost my way.

my companion."

A horse broke loose, frightened, and separated me from

What will you do on leaving this conveyance-it will be late ?"

"I shall ask some one to show me the way. Are there not always people in the streets?""

"Yes, but you might accost a person of bad character, who would take delight in leading you further astray."

"Oh, dear! If I were to wander about all night, I think I should die of fear, Will it not be better to place myself under the protection of the conductor of the vehicle."

"Do nothing of the kind, mademoiselle; as we have met you, I will take charge of you. I will conduct you to your relations."

“Ah, sir, be assured of my gratitude. Excuse the trouble and derangement it may cause in your plans."

"Do not think of it, it is a settled thing."

Angelique, quite comforted, waited patiently to follow her companions when they alighted, which they did at a dark and lonely part of the Boulevards, between nine and ten o'clock in the evening.

"Take my arm, and keep silence," said Angelique's chaperon, in a low voice, turning with her and his companion towards the darkest path. The stranger was dressed so elegantly, that the little girl naturally took him for one of the most distinguished persons in Paris, notwithstanding his singularly mysterious conduct; for, instead of hurrying on like one who is benighted, he began to tread lightly, looking right and left, and saying something in an undertone to his companion which Angelique did not understand, They were joined by a third gentleman, who was recognised by a hollow whistle, and they immediately proceeded quickly towards the same place.

They stopped near an isolated house, and whilst two of them were engaged in opening the door, the one who conducted Angelique told her to be quiet; that they wanted to enter that house, which belonged to one of their friends, but that they should not be there long, and would then take her home as they had promised. The giddy child was obliged to be content with this assurance, being in a very embarrassing position, not daring to leave her strange protector, and beginning to fear that all was not as she at first imagined. But she had got further cause for apprehension. The door they wanted to open not yielding to their efforts, a short consultation took place between the nocturnal perambulators, at the conclusion of which Angelique's chaperon said to her, "One good turn deserves another, mademoiselle. As a recompense for the service I am disposed to render you, may I beg that you will do me a slight favour?"

"If it be in my power, you may rely upon me."

"My friend has hampered the lock, and cannot get into his house without the help of a blacksmith; but as it is late he has preferred removing a panel, in the hope of gaining an entrance by that means. Unfortunately, the aperture is too small for any of us to pass through. Slender and agile as you are, it would be very easy for you to get inside, and to open either the door or window, agreeably to our instructions. Will you consent to it?"

"It is certainly an extraordinary method of entering one's own house," said Angelique; "however, it would ill become me to refuse. Show me what I must do.” "Really," rejoined her chaperon, "you are an amiable little girl."

He conducted her to the house, for hitherto they had kept at a distance, took her in his arms to raise her to the aperture, and having made her pass through, though not without difficulty, he held her until she touched the floor, which was a little above the level of the street.

In effecting this, Angelique slightly hurt herself, and was compelled to rest a minute in order to recover; but her fellow-travellers impatiently begged her to remember their directions by opening the door quickly.

"I have not forgotten it," she exclaimed; " yet, now I think of it, if the lock be injured, the door will not open more easily from within than from without." "Be quiet, little chatterer," replied one of the unknown men, swearing; "do as you are told, or I will make you repent of it."

"Oh, dear! what language !" thought Angelique; "this gentleman's companions are little worthy of himself."

A fresh injunction, more severe still than the first, increased her surprise and terror. She immediately groped to find the door, and, having succeeded, two great bolts with which she came in contact revealed the horrible mystery. She could not believe that those who were trying to enter the house had a right to do so. They were evidently robbers, who were making use of a child to accomplish their infa mous ends. What was Angelique to do? Should she expose herself to the vengeance of these wicked men, or consent to become their accomplice ?

"Alas!" she murmured, trembling, "into what an abyss have I precipitated myself!"

"Well," cried one of the thieves, "will you not make haste to open the door før us, little wanderer?"

"There are two great bolts," she replied timidly.

"Undo them, if you value your life."

"I-I-they are too high."

"That is a lie, you wicked girl, you have not even tried to reach them; but you shall pay dearly for it. One more panel removed will enable us to reach you, and we will wring your neck like that of a pigeon."

"May God have pity on me then!" exclaimed poor Angelique, falling on her knees. A confused noise of voices was then heard over head; the aperture was closed, then the noise gradually ceased, and all was again silent. Angelique, who continued listening, tried to discover what had happened. Had the police seized the thieves? or had they gone away of themselves, to return in greater numbers? Darkness surrounded the young girl, who in that room was like a mouse in a trap. What reception would she have from the inmates of the house, provided they were absent or asleep? If the house were uninhabited, would she not die of hunger? Whilst making these sad reflections, she perceived that the air around her was impregnated with a perfume like that which a garden exhaled, and stretching out her arms with she discovered several vases of flowers.

care,

A clock, which seemed close by, had just struck twelve, when talking was again heard; this time some female voices were observable; doors were opened and shut quickly. At last a light shone before the eyes of the little prisoner, and revealed four persons, two men and two women; one of the latter seemed almost beside her self, “I am robbed, I am robbed,” she exclaimed.

"No, no, my good neighbour," replied one of the men; "it is not likely that a thief could pass through the aperture which has been made. It is only an attempt at robbery.

'see, here are your clock,

"Thus far all is right, sister," added the other person; and the drawer of your till untouched. We have come in time." "Oh, aunt, what do I see," exclaimed a young person, pointing to Angelique, who was in a corner in great perplexity.

"Oh, dear! we are lost!" replied her aunt; "the shop is full of assassins."

In her terror she was about to take flight, when her brother showed her it was only a child. Angelique then took courage enough to tell them that she was alone, and how she came there; but, as might be expected, she was not believed. The two men, therefore, made a strict search, after which, feeling somewhat re-assured, they proceeded to interrogate her."

"Well," said the old woman, "let her name her accomplices, or I will beat her." "Alas! you ask me about what I know nothing," replied Angelique; "far from being the accomplice of any one, I am the victim of thieves who have forced me to enter your house."

The old woman, unable to credit her statement, had already raised her hand to s'rike her, when her brother interposed.

"A moment's patience, sister," he said, and whilst she endeavoured to recover from her agitation, he took poor Angelique, who was in tears, from her, begged her to be calm, and asked for a detailed account of her adventure. Angelique gave it him as well as she was able, observing the precaution of not mentioning her name, a reservation which her interrogator fully observed.

"Sir," replied the young girl, blushing, "I have told you the truth, and you now see I did my best to prevent the thieves from accomplishing their object. Of what importance can my name and that of my family be to you?"

"Ah, what confidence can we have in a child who confesses that she has escaped

from school, and refuses to own to whom she belongs?" replied he.

66

You are silly to listen to that girl, brother. Have not all thieves a story ready to entrap honest people? When morning comes, I will have her taken before the magistrate, and then we shall know who she is."

"The magistrate! Oh, dear!" exclaimed Angelique. "Do not expose me to such a disgrace. I would rather tell you all. I am Pierre Chiron's daughter." "Chiron," repeated the brother, "of what place?"

"Of St. Cyr."

"What is he?"

"A gardener," she replied, in an undertone.

"There is an imposition," said the neighbour; “do gardener's daughters wear flounced silk dresses? Are they sent to boarding-school ?"

"I am situated differently," answered Angelique, raising her head; "a very rich lady, who is my godmother, brings me up as her child."

"That is all false," exclaimed the female.

"No, sister, I believe she tells the truth, for I know Pierre Chiron, and I know also that he has a daughter brought up at Paris by a lady of rank. Now, little one, since there is no longer a mystery between us, you must tell me everything. I do