A Second Home | Page 5

windows of

the house. Day after day this brief interview had the hue of friendly
sympathy which at last had acquired a sort of fraternal kindness.
Caroline and the stranger seemed to understand each other from the
first; and then, by dint of scrutinizing each other's faces, they learned to
know them well. Ere long it came to be, as it were, a visit that the
Unknown owed to Caroline; if by any chance her Gentleman in Black
went by without bestowing on her the half-smile of his expressive lips,
or the cordial glance of his brown eyes, something was missing to her
all day. She felt as an old man does to whom the daily study of a
newspaper is such an indispensable pleasure that on the day after any
great holiday he wanders about quite lost, and seeking, as much out of
vagueness as for want of patience, the sheet by which he cheats an hour
of life.
But these brief meetings had the charm of intimate friendliness, quite as
much for the stranger as for Caroline. The girl could no more hide a
vexation, a grief, or some slight ailment from the keen eye of her
appreciative friend than he could conceal anxiety from hers.
"He must have had some trouble yesterday," was the thought that
constantly arose in the embroideress' mind as she saw some change in
the features of the "Black Gentleman."
"Oh, he has been working too hard!" was a reflection due to another
shade of expression which Caroline could discern.
The stranger, on his part, could guess when the girl had spent Sunday
in finishing a dress, and he felt an interest in the pattern. As quarter-day
came near he could see that her pretty face was clouded by anxiety, and
he could guess when Caroline had sat up late at work; but above all, he
noted how the gloomy thoughts that dimmed the cheerful and delicate
features of her young face gradually vanished by degrees as their
acquaintance ripened. When winter had killed the climbers and plants
of her window garden, and the window was kept closed, it was not
without a smile of gentle amusement that the stranger observed the
concentration of the light within, just at the level of Caroline's head.
The very small fire and the frosty red of the two women's faces
betrayed the poverty of their home; but if ever his own countenance

expressed regretful compassion, the girl proudly met it with assumed
cheerfulness.
Meanwhile the feelings that had arisen in their hearts remained buried
there, no incident occurring to reveal to either of them how deep and
strong they were in the other; they had never even heard the sound of
each other's voice. These mute friends were even on their guard against
any nearer acquaintance, as though it meant disaster. Each seemed to
fear lest it should bring on the other some grief more serious than those
they felt tempted to share. Was it shyness or friendship that checked
them? Was it a dread of meeting with selfishness, or the odious distrust
which sunders all the residents within the walls of a populous city? Did
the voice of conscience warn them of approaching danger? It would be
impossible to explain the instinct which made them as much enemies as
friends, at once indifferent and attached, drawn to each other by
impulse, and severed by circumstance. Each perhaps hoped to preserve
a cherished illusion. It might almost have been thought that the stranger
feared lest he should hear some vulgar word from those lips as fresh
and pure as a flower, and that Caroline felt herself unworthy of the
mysterious personage who was evidently possessed of power and
wealth.
As to Madame Crochard, that tender mother, almost angry at her
daughter's persistent lack of decisiveness, now showed a sulky face to
the "Black Gentleman," on whom she had hitherto smiled with a sort of
benevolent servility. Never before had she complained so bitterly of
being compelled, at her age, to do the cooking; never had her catarrh
and her rheumatism wrung so many groans from her; finally, she could
not, this winter, promise so many ells of net as Caroline had hitherto
been able to count on.
Under these circumstances, and towards the end of December, at the
time when bread was dearest, and that dearth of corn was beginning to
be felt which made the year 1816 so hard on the poor, the stranger
observed on the features of the girl whose name was still unknown to
him, the painful traces of a secret sorrow which his kindest smiles
could not dispel. Before long he saw in Caroline's eyes the dimness

attributed to long hours at night. One night, towards the end of the
month, the Gentleman in