Her eyes were of the same hue as her hair, large and full, and replete with that dewy, tender expression, when she lifted the long lashes from them, which sends the glance into the depths of the heart. Her mouth was small, and the full lips, like to a "cleft pomegranate," disclosed her polished and regular teeth.

Guly's eye took in the exquisite picture before him at a glance, and the words which were on his lips when he first bent forward remained unspoken, while he looked the glowing admiration which filled his heart.

She seemed slightly embarrassed as she met his gaze, and, in a voice of clear richness of tone, she remarked:--

"Mr. G---- is no longer here? I have always been accustomed to seeing him, and have my work ready for disposal."

"I occupy Mr. G----'s place, Miss," replied Guly, with a slight blush upon his young cheek, as he resumed his erect position. "Can I do anything for you?"

"Ah, Miss Blanche! how do you do?" exclaimed Wilkins, getting down from his desk before she could answer Guly's question. "It is a long, long time since we have seen your young face here. What has been the matter?"

"Ah! Monsieur," she replied, in a tone of inexpressible sadness, and addressing him in French, "I have had much trouble in the last two months. I have been greatly bereaved. My poor mother, sir--" she could go no farther, but broke down as she glanced at the black dress, and burst into a fit of silent but bitter weeping.

A shade of sympathetic sorrow passed over Wilkins' face, and with a delicacy of feeling which would not have been expected in him, he stepped around to that side, where she was exposed to the view of the customers and clerks, and stood there as if he would, by the intervention of his huge form, screen her sorrow from the vulgar gaze.

After a few moments Blanche dried her eyes; and with a violent struggle for self-control, seemed to swallow her grief into her heart.

"You must pardon me, Mr. Wilkins, for giving way here. I thought, Monsieur, I could do better; but my grief lies very, very heavy here;"

and she laid her hand, with touching grace, upon her heart.

"Ah, Mademoiselle," returned Wilkins, also in French, "I feel deeply for you, believe me. And you are alone now, and have no friends?"

"Oui, Monsieur, I have my blind grandfather, poor grandpapa; he is very feeble and infirm." She paused, as if the subject was one too painful to dwell upon, then drew toward her a little bundle, which she had laid upon the counter, and said: "I have here my broderie. I hope, Monsieur, you have not engaged any one else. I have worked day and night to finish what I had undertaken. I hope they please you."

Wilkins took the little roll, and drew thence several specimens of exquisite and tasteful embroidering, consisting of one or two heavily worked _mouchoirs_, several collars, some insertion, edging, &c., &c. He examined them with a close and critical eye, then laying them down, with an encouraging smile, said:--

"These are more beautifully done than any we have yet had, Mademoiselle.

These, really, command the highest price."

"I am very glad, Monsieur," Blanche replied, quietly.

Wilkins drew a small reference-book from his pocket, and after glancing over its pages a moment or two, he counted out a few pieces of gold from a drawer at his side, and Guly saw that, under pretence of making change, he added to the sum a little from his own purse.

"There, Mademoiselle, that is well earned."

"Here is more than I received last time, Monsieur; and you have had to wait for the work. Are you sure this is right?"

"Quite right. As I before told you, it is better done than any you have given us before. Take these articles, Guly, and put them in the box marked 'French Embroidery.'"

Guly obeyed, and his fingers lingered on the fair work before him, with an unconscious touch of admiration.

"You think you can bring your articles weekly, now, Mademoiselle?"

"I think so, Monsieur Wilkins. I have nothing to occupy my time now, except a few little favors for poor grandpapa."

"Very well. Mr. G. has left, as you see. Henceforth Mr. Pratt will receive your work, and pay you for the same, as he has charge of this department. Let me make you acquainted. Guly, this is Blanche Duverne,"

said Wilkins, in his brief, peculiar manner.

Blanche held out her small hand, with an air of nave and innocent frankness, and Guly took the rosy finger tips, as he bent across the counter, and pressed them to his lips.

It was an act totally unexpected by Blanche, but it was done with such a noble grace by the boy, and with an air of such delicate refinement, while a glow of boyish bashfulness swept over his fine face, that the most fastidious could not have found in it just cause for resentment, much less the guileless and innocent child-woman before him.

As Guly released her hand she looked at him more attentively than she had done before, and said, sweetly, in pure unaccented English--

"I hope we may be very good friends, Guly."

"Amen," said the boy, with a smile.

"And you will sell my work to your choice customers, won't you?"

"Invariably."

"Adieu."

"Adieu, Miss."

She flitted out of the door so like a spirit, that she was gone almost before Guly was aware she had left her seat. He longed to go to the door and look after her, but a sense of timidity withheld him; and having no customers just then he took down the box which contained her work, under pretence of arranging it more nicely, but in reality to look upon the delicate labor of those rosy fingers once again.

Wilkins was watching him, mischievously, from his desk, and Guly looked up, and caught his eye, with a blush and a smile.

"Tell me, Wilkins, who she is."

"A poor girl, and very pretty."

"And friendless?"

"Only her grandpapa, you heard her say."

"Poor thing, she does this for a living."

"For a living? Yes. And it's a hard one she gets, after all."

"You know all about her! What else? Tell me more."

"She is very good and pure."

"May she always be so. Go on."

Wilkins looked at him searchingly for a moment, but the boy met his glance steadily, and the head-clerk withdrew his eye with an air of one who is suddenly made aware of entertaining unjust suspicions; and he went on, with a smile, getting down from his desk, and standing near to Guly meanwhile.

"It would not be to every one, Guly, I would give poor Blanche's history, or what I know of it; but to you I am certain I can do so safely. To begin then at the beginning: She was the daughter of one of the wealthiest bankers in this city, who died several yeas ago insolvent, and left his wife and child destitute. Of course, their former friends cut them, all except a very few; and they took a suite of rooms in the Third Municipality, and removed thither with their few articles of furniture, and their blind and helpless relative. The mother's health began to fail, and after a little while she was unable to do anything toward their support; and all the duties of the household, together with the labor for a livelihood for the three, fell upon little brown-eyed Blanche. She went to work heroically, and turned her accomplishments to profit, and is, as you see, one of the very best _brodeurs_ that can be found. She loved her mother devotedly, and I suppose it almost broke her little heart when she lost her. She has sickened and died within the last two months, as you heard her say. She had all that care upon her young shoulders, beside that of her old grandfather, yet she has neglected neither, and finished her work with it all. Think of it! As you perceive she has an innocent little heart, is a stranger to guile, and is ready to believe every one is what he professes to be. God help her, poor thing!"

"And is that all you know of her, Wilkins?"

"This is all. I know her well; for four years she has brought her work to this spot, and sold it at this counter."

Guly's eye dropped upon that counter almost reverently.

"Where are her relatives, Wilkins?"