The tide in Emilia's affairs which had led her to Geneva proved to be most auspicious and fortunate. Her home with Madame Lambert was happy and peaceful, and when that good friend had passed away there was no break in the even tenor of her days. The connections she had formed were lasting and endurable, and she was never without pupils. One family recommended her to another, and she was constantly employed, meeting respect everywhere. Her earnings were not large, but they were sufficient for her modest wants. Blessed with the companionship of a child whose loveliness and sweet disposition won the hearts of all who came into association with her, the life led by Emilia and her daughter may be likened to a peaceful lake nestling in a valley beyond the reach of storm and tempest. The love Emilia bore for Constance was deep and profound, and represented for the devoted mother the light and joy of the world. So years passed until Constance was seventeen.

All these years Emilia had heard no news from England, and had not seen a face she had known in her youth. The past was buried in a grave destined, as she believed, never to be disturbed, and there was not a cloud in the horizon to warn her of a coming storm. It was the happiest time of her life.

Constance had many young friends, and among them, as was natural--being a beautiful and accomplished girl, with winning and amiable manners--an unreasonable number of young gentlemen who adored her. Of these the favored one was Julian Bordier.

M. Bordier, his father, was the head of an important watch manufactory, a concern the reputation of which was world wide. The name of Bordier was famous; his sign-manual engraved on the back-plate of a watch was a guarantee of excellence. Consequently the Bordiers--father, mother, son, and two daughters--were rich.

Social grades are not so unfairly marked in Geneva as in other cities. To have been well introduced, to be well educated, to live a reputable life, to have good manners, form the open sesame to polite society. Emilia and her daughter supplied all these requirements, and their circle of acquaintance was large and reputable. It was through the young people that Emilia was introduced to the house of the Bordiers, and once admitted she was always welcomed with cordiality. In all respects Julian Bordier was a gentleman and a man of refined instincts; unhappily his sight was failing him, and the Genevese specialists seemed to be powerless in their efforts to arrest the affliction of blindness which threatened him. The effect which this had upon the love which grew between Constance and Julian was to instil into her feelings for him a sentiment of divine pity. Before they were absolutely aware of it their hearts were engaged.

Emilia watched the progress of this mutual affection with solicitous eyes, but she did not speak of it to her daughter. It was for Constance to introduce the subject, and that she had not done so was a proof that there had been no love-making between the young people. Constance believed her secret was not known, but the insight of a mother's love is keen and strong, and Emilia knew it almost before her daughter. The knowledge disquieted her. They were poor, the Bordiers were rich. But it was not in her power to guide the current; she must wait and hope for the best.

One night Emilia and Constance came home later than usual. They had been spending a musical evening at the Bordiers' house, and Emilia had noticed for the first time that Julian's attentions to her child were more than ordinarily marked. Now and again she looked apprehensively at M. Bordier, who was sitting in his usual corner, and seemed to be taking notice of his son's attentions to Constance; the father's face was grave and observant, but there was no trace of disapproval on it. This was comforting, but it did not remove Emilia's apprehensions. It was a fine night, and Julian walked home with them. It needed not a loving mother's insight to detect the newborn tenderness of Julian's manner when he bade Constance good-night and held her hand in his.

Mother and daughter derived delight from attending upon each other, but on this night Emilia dispensed with Constance's services. She brushed her own hair quickly, and then pressed Constance gently into a chair, and busied herself over the abundant tresses of her beloved child. With what loving care did she comb out the flowing locks, her heart beating with infinite love for this sweet and only treasure of her life! Then she coaxed Constance into bed, and knelt by the bedside and prayed.

"Mamma!"

Emilia rose from her knees, and bent her face down to Constance.

"Yes, dear child."

"I am almost afraid to speak, mamma."

"Is it about Julian Bordier, dear?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, my darling."

"You will not be angry, mamma?"

"Angry, darling--with you!"

"He is coming to speak to you to-morrow, mamma."

"He loves you, Constance."

"Yes, mamma."

"And you love him."

The young girl hid her face on her mother's neck.

"You are not sorry, mamma, are you?"

"I think only of your happiness, darling. I have no other object in life."

"Oh, mamma, you are the sweetest, dearest mother in the world. It is ungrateful of me; but, mamma, I cannot help it."

"I know, I know, my darling. What does his father say?"

"He dues not know--no one knows. Are you not surprised, mamma?"

"I think I have seen it for some time past, my sweet."

"And you never mentioned it, mamma--never even whispered it?"

"It was for you to speak first, Constance, and I waited."

"I can scarcely believe it. Oh, mamma, mamma, I love him, I love him!"

"Dear child! When does he intend to speak to his father?"

"After he has seen you. He did intend to speak to both of you first before he said a word to me, but somehow, mamma--I don't know really how it happened, nor does he--Mamma, you are crying!"

"I cannot help it, dear. You are my only one, my only one----"

"But, mamma, we shall still be together. Julian says so. We shall never, never be separated."

Emilia smiled sadly. "I have always liked Julian, dear, and if all should turn out well I am sure he will make you happy."

"He loves you dearly, mamma. I shall be glad when to-morrow is over."

"It will soon be over, dear child. Time passes quickly. Now go to sleep, my dear, dear child!"

They kissed and embraced again and again, and then Constance's head sank upon the pillow, and she fell asleep with her mother's arm encircling her neck. Emilia lay awake for hours. Her daughter's confession had revived memories of the past, and she could not banish forebodings. Of all the young men whom she knew, Julian Burdier was the one she would have chosen for Constance, but she dreaded the coming meeting with his father. She could not explain her fears, but she was haunted by threatening shadows. Daylight was dawning when she fell asleep, and she rose unrefreshed from her bed. Constance, dressed, was sitting by her side when she awoke. Never had she seen her daughter look so beautiful; love made her radiant with angelic loveliness.

"I want you to look very, very bright, mamma," said Constance. "I will help you dress."

Engrossed in her own happy dreams she did not notice the tired expression on her mother's face, which, after a little while, wore away beneath the influence of Constance's gentle ministrations.

"Julian will be here early, mamma," she said, when breakfast was over. "I don't know what to do with myself. Shall I go out, or remain at home? Hark! Yes; that is his step?"

"Go to your bedroom, darling," said Emilia, with fond kisses, "and wait till I call you."

Constance obeyed, and Emilia admitted the young man, who entered the room with flowers for Constance and her mother. She motioned him to a seat; she was palpitating with emotion, but she succeeded in preserving an apparently calm demeanor.

"You expected me," he said, after she had accepted the flowers and laid them aside.

"Constance told me you would come," said Emilia, gravely.

"Is she well?"

"Quite well."

Then there was an awkward pause, but soon the young man took heart of grace, and in modest, manly fashion laid his petition before Emilia.

"I cannot hope to be worthy of her," he said; "no man could be, but I can promise sincerely to do all in my power to make her happy. I love her very dearly. What can I say more? You will not refuse me?"

"If it depended upon me," said Emilia, speaking very slowly, "I should be contented to place my daughter's happiness in your keeping, for I believe you to be worthy of her."

"How can I thank you?" said Julian, impetuously. "It does depend upon you. Then all is settled. May I see Constance?"

She gently shook her head. "Not yet. I could have wished you had consulted me before you said anything to Constance. I am not blaming you--I know there are feelings it is difficult to keep in check, but I think it would have been better if you had confided in me first. I could then have advised you."

"To do what? You have no objection to entrusting me with her; and indeed, indeed, your trust shall not be misplaced. Perhaps you are right, but it can make no difference now that I know you approve."

"There is one," said Emilia, steadily, "to whom you should have spoken even before you addressed me or Constance."

"My father?"

"Yes, your father."

"Again, I daresay you are right. But I am sure of my father. He loves me, and will not thwart me----"

Emilia held up her hand. "Have you considered the difference in our position?"

"No--except that I have always felt that Constance is far above me, if that is what you mean."

"It is not what I mean. Parents are compelled to view such matters in a different light. I can give Constance no dowry."

"I want none. I want her."

"And with your father's approval, you shall have my consent. It is my duty to say this to ............