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 a third building was reserved for such guests as were happy enough to enjoy the hospitality of the amiable couple.

"What news do you bring us from the city? M. Feuardent, I shall consider you in the light of an animated society-newspaper, through whose columns I may gather something of what my friends in New Orleans are doing," said Madame Bienveillance.

Poor Robert was at a loss to answer her. He had lived so entirely in his own emotions for weeks past that he had neither thought nor cared about the rest of the world. He only knew about Margaret; and he was on the point of yielding to the lover's impulse to talk of his beloved, even to a stranger, when a step was heard on the path and a tall, gaunt figure approached them.

"Mon père, you are most welcome; it is long since you have broken bread with us," the lady said, greeting the new-comer affectionately.

"It is not longer ago than this morning since I have eaten of thy bread, my daughter. My other friends say that thou dost more than thy share in keeping my larder supplied. How is this,—Robert Feuardent, the deserter, here? Thy wigwam has lost its roof, thy friends have almost forgotten thy face, thy dogs acknowledge a new master. What hast thou found in the