.

HYMEN! OH HYMEN!.
Isabelle, accustomed to Chiquita's odd, enigmatical ways, had refrained from questioning her--waiting to ask for explanations until the poor girl should have become more quiet, and able to give them.

She could see that some terrible catastrophe must have occurred, which had left all her nerves quivering, and caused the strong shudders that passed over her in rapid succession; but the child had rendered her such good service, in her own hour of need, that she felt the least she could do was to receive and care for the poor little waif tenderly, without making any inquiries as to her evidently desperate situation.

After giving her in charge to her own maid, with orders that she should be properly clothed, and made thoroughly comfortable in every way, Isabelle resumed her reading--or rather tried to resume it; but her thoughts would wander, and after mechanically turning over a few pages in a listless way, she laid the book down, beside her neglected embroidery, on a little table at her elbow.

Leaning her head on her hand, and closing her eyes, she lapsed into a sorrowful reverie--as, indeed, she had done of late many times every day.
"Oh! what has become of de Sigognac ?" she said to herself.