understands their advantage in increasing the effect of his descriptions, and believes them to be the blessed gifts of Providence to render the earth a beautiful abode and sanctify it to our affections.  The heavenly bodies affect the soul with a deeper sense of creative power; but trees, like flowers, serve to draw us more closely to the bosom of Nature, by exemplifying the beauties of her handiwork, and the wonders of that Wisdom that operates unseen, and becomes, in our search for it, a source of perpetual delight.

VICTOR AND JACQUELINE.

[Concluded.]

VII.

The three days passed away.  And every hour’s progress was marked as it passed over the citizens of Meaux.  Leclerc, and the doctrines for which he suffered, filled the people’s thought; he was their theme of speech.  Wonder softened into pity; unbelief was goaded by his stripes to cruelty; faith became transfigured, while he, followed by the hooting crowd, endured the penalty of faith.  Some men looked on with awe that would become adoring; some with surprise that would take refuge in study and conviction.  There were tears as well as exultation, solemn joy as well as execration, in his train.  The mother of Leclerc followed him with her undaunted testimony, “Blessed be Jesus Christ and His Witnesses!”

By day, in the field, Jacqueline Gabrie thought over the reports she heard through the harvesters, of the city’s feeling, of its purpose, of its judgment; by night she prayed and hoped, with the mother of Leclerc; and wondrous was the growth her faith had in those days.

On the evening of the third day, Jacqueline and Elsie walked into Meaux together.  This was not invariably their habit.  Elsie had avoided too frequent conversation with her friend of late.  She knew their paths were separate, and was never so persuaded of the fact as this night, when, of her own will, she sought to walk with Jacqueline.  The sad face of her friend troubled her; it moved her conscience that she did not deeply share in her anxiety.  When they came from Domremy, she had relied on Jacqueline:  there was safety in her counsel,—­there was wisdom in it:  but now, either?

“It made me scream outright, when I saw the play,” said she; “but it is worse to see your face nowadays,—­it is more terrible, Jacqueline.”

Jacqueline made no reply to this,—­and Elsie regarded the silence as sufficient provocation.

“You seem to think I have no feeling,” said she.  “I am as sorry about the poor fellows as you can be.  But I cannot look as if I thought the day of judgment close at hand, when I don’t, Jacqueline.”

“Very well, Elsie.  I am not complaining of your looks.”

“But you are,—­or you might as well.”

“Let not that trouble you, Elsie.  Your face is smooth, at least; and your voice does not sound like the voice of one who is in grief.  Rejoice,—­for, as you say, you have a right to yourself, with which I am not to interfere.  We are old friends,—­we came away from Lorraine together.  Do not forget that.  I never will forget it.”