FOOTNOTES:
[A] The rose.
[B] If the reader feels any interest in Sebastien, he will be glad to hear that a petition sent to the landlord in the form of a letter proved as effective as the proposed deputation. He was promoted to the dignity (and fees) of second waiter in the dining-room: and on the first of last May was united to his beloved Anita. The sun shone and the skies were blue; the world smiled upon the young couple. The bride in her white veil and pale silk dress (the gift of her late employer, Madame la Modiste) must have appeared ravishing; and few bridegrooms in Manresa could have looked handsomer or more manly than Sebastien. We imagine how his face beamed, his eyes sparkled, his heart overflowed. His master—not to be outdone by Madame la Modiste—gave them a wedding breakfast, and the walls rang with the shouts that went up when the health of the happy pair was drunk. One can only wish them the serene bliss and success they deserve.
[C] The following letter from the old canon, one of many, may be transcribed for the benefit of the reader:
"You will be anxious to hear how our patient has been progressing since I last wrote to you. Better and better. There is nothing but good news to send you. I think I may almost affirm that Eugenie is now 'clothed and in her right mind.' The cure is effected. For many months she has not looked upon the wine cup, and declares that all desire for it has left her. I believe it has. As you know, the very day after our first and last evening together I sought her out, told her I was her father's friend, explained to her the atonement that was in her power. The poor creature, overcome with misery, sorrow and remorse, burst into such tears as I have never seen shed, and yielded without a murmur to my wish. I would give her no time for reconsideration, and that very day she took up her abode in my house. She never leaves it except in company with Juanita or myself. There has been no trouble from the beginning. It almost seemed as though the calm and peaceful atmosphere of our little household at once exorcised the evil spirit within her. Her better nature has triumphed, and I am persuaded that she will not fall away again. I do not intend that she shall. As long as I live this is to be her home. She asks nothing better; declares that for the first time in her life she has found peace and happiness. Her gratitude to you is unbounded. If I only mention your name, tears spring to her eyes. I believe she would lay down her life for you. She begs that you will one day come again to see, not the old Eugenie who accosted you in the church; she is dead and buried; but the new Eugenie who lives and has taken her place. She wonders what influence gave her courage to speak, and declares it was some unseen spirit or power which compelled her to go forward whether she would or no. The moment she saw you this spirit took possession of her and she was passive in its hands. Never before had such a thing happened to her. I put it down to other and higher influence. These things do not happen by chance. Heaven may spare my life for some years. During that time Eugenie's home is assured. She is now as a daughter to me; shares my modest repasts; occupies herself in the affairs of the house; spends much of her time with Juanita. She reads much, and is studying science with me. Her intelligence is of a high order, and she has a wide grasp of mind. By-and-by she may outrun me. Truly it is a pearl of price we have rescued from the fire. And I too have my reward. The house is brighter since she came to it. Even Juanita, who once only smiled, now laughs on occasion. She has taken a great affection for Eugenie, and when I am no longer here will transfer her services to our protégée. Heaven be praised, I am able to leave them independent of the world. And I have enlisted my nephew's sympathy in the matter. Eugenie is to be much with them when I go hence, but this is to be her home; hers for her life. Yet who can tell? She is young. If you thought her beautiful then, what would you say now to that calm, radiant face, those clear, steadfast eyes? One day she will probably marry again; and in a second and more worthy choice find all the happiness and protection that she missed in her first terrible and headstrong mistake.
"And now, the old question. When are you coming? Juanita bids me say that all the resources of her simple art are waiting to be put forth in your favour. She declares she never was happier than that evening when she waited upon us and dispensed her simple luxuries. Eugenie says she shall never be at perfect rest until you have witnessed her transformation. For myself, I have a new work on Natural Philosophy to show you. I long once more to pace together the aisles of our beloved cathedral. At my age I live from day to day, grateful to heaven for each new day in this bright world. But it behoves me to sit loosely to all things. The end may come at any hour, it cannot be very far off now. The old man longs to welcome you yet once again. Deny him not."