ed and strengthened--and circumstances long
unremembered--names long unspoken--histories and descriptions once
attended to with deep interest, but long passed from recollection, are
drawn forth, as it were, from the dark recesses of the mind, at first
like wandering atoms confused and undefined, but gradually assuming
distinctness and consistency, till the things _that be_ are to us the
_unreal_ world, and we live and move again (all intervening space a
blank) among the things that have been?

Far back into that shadowy region did I wander, when left as described
by "the grim white woman," to ponder over the few words she had
vouchsafed to utter, and my own "thick-coming fancies." The one proper
name she had pronounced--that of her mother's family--had struck on my
ear like a familiar sound; yet--how could I have heard it? If ever, from
one person only--from _my_ dear mother's lips--"De St Hilaire!"--again
and again I slowly repeated to myself--and then--I scarce know how--the
Christian name of Adrienne rose spontaneously to my lips; and no sooner
were the two united than the spell of memory was complete, and fresh on
my mind, as if I had heard it but yesterday, returned the whole history
of Adrienne de St Hilaire.

Adrienne de St Hilaire and Madelaine du Resnel were far-removed cousins;
both "demoiselles de bonnes families," residing at contiguous chateaux,
near a small hamlet not far from Caen, in Normandy; both well born and
well connected, but very unequally endowed with the gifts of fortune.
Mademoiselle de St Hilaire was the only child and heiress of wealthy
parents, both of whom were still living. Madelaine du Resnel, the
youngest of seven, left in tender infancy to the guardianship of a
widowed mother, whose scanty dower (the small family estate devolving on
her only son) would have been insufficient for the support of herself
and her younger children (all daughters), had she not continued
mistress of her son's house and establishment during his minority.

"La petite Madelaine" (as, being the latest born, she was long called by
her family and friends) opened her eyes upon this mortal scene but a
week before her father was carried to his grave, and never was poor babe
so coldly welcomed under circumstances that should have made her doubly
an object of tenderness.

"Petite malheureuse! je me serais bien passee de toi," was the maternal
salutation, when her new-born daughter was first presented to Madame du
Res