o doubt escaped all danger, as he himself announces his speedy
return to Charlestown. As soon as he arrives, which cannot (they write)
be later than the middle of this month, he will be shipped off for
France."

"Add this to the note which concerns him," said Rodin's master.

"It is written," replied the secretary, a few moments later.

"Proceed, then," said his master. Rodin continued

"'NOTE, No. VI. "'ADRIENNE RENNEPONT DE CARDOVILLE.

"'Distantly related (without knowing it) to Jacques Rennepont, alias
Sleepinbuff, and Gabriel Rennepont, missionary priest. She will soon
be twenty-one years of age, the most attractive person in the
world--extraordinary beauty, though red-haired--a mind remarkable
for its originality--immense fortune--all the animal instincts. The
incredible independence of her character makes one tremble for the
future fate of this young person. Happily, her appointed guardian, Baron
Tripeaud (a baron of 1829 creation, formerly agent to the late Count of
Rennepont, Duke of Cardoville), is quite in the interest, and almost in
the dependence, of the young lady's aunt. We count, with reason, upon
this worthy and respectable relative, and on the Baron Tripeaud, to
oppose and repress the singular, unheard-of designs which this young
person, as resolute as independent, does not fear to avow--and which,
unfortunately, cannot be turned to account in the interest of the affair
in question--for--"

Rodin was here interrupted by two discreet taps at the door. The
secretary rose, went to see who knocked, remained a moment without, and
then returned with two letters in his hand, saying: "The princess has
profited by the departure of a courier to--"

"Give me the letter!" cried his master, without leaving him time to
finish. "At length," he added, "I shall have news of my mother--"

He had scarcely read the first few lines of the letter, when he grew
deadly pale, and his features took an expression of painful astonishment
and poignant grief. "My mother!" he cried, "oh, heavens! my mother!"

"What misfortune has happened!" asked Rodin, with a look of alarm, as he
rose at the exclamation of his master.

"The symptoms of improvement were fallacious," replied the other,
dejectedly; "she has now relapsed into a nearly hopeless state. And
yet the doctor thinks my presence might save her, for she calls for me
without ceasing. She wishes to see me for the last time, that she
may die in peace. Oh, that wish is s