that your father return in time! If he delays much longer he
will find none but you to love him. Modeste, promise me once more never
to leave him," she said in a fond maternal tone.

Modeste lifted her mother's hands to her lips and kissed them gently,
replying: "Need I say it again?"

"Ah, my child! I did this thing myself. I left my father to follow my
husband; and yet my father was all alone; I was all the child he had. Is
that why God has so punished me? What I ask of you is to marry as your
father wishes, to cherish him in your heart, not to sacrifice him to
your own happiness, but to make him the centre of your home. Before
losing my sight, I wrote him all my wishes, and I know he will execute
them. I enjoined him to keep his property intact and in his own hands;
not that I distrust you, my Modeste, for a moment, but who can be sure
of a son-in-law? Ah! my daughter, look at me; was I reasonable? One
glance of the eye decided my life. Beauty, so often deceitful, in my
case spoke true; but even were it the same with you, my poor child,
swear to me that you will let your father inquire into the character,
the habits, the heart, and the previous life of the man you distinguish
with your love--if, by chance, there is such a man."

"I will never marry without the consent of my father," answered Modeste.

"You see, my darling," said Madame Mignon after a long pause, "that if I
am dying by inches through Bettina's wrong-doing, your father would not
survive yours, no, not for a moment. I know him; he would put a pistol
to his head,--there could be no life, no happiness on earth for him."

Modeste walked a few steps away from her mother, but immediately came
back.

"Why did you leave me?" demanded Madame Mignon.

"You made me cry, mamma," answered Modeste.

"Ah, my little darling, kiss me. You love no one here? you have no
lover, have you?" she asked, holding Modeste on her lap, heart to heart.

"No, my dear mamma," said the little Jesuit.

"Can you swear it?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Modeste.

Madame Mignon said no more; but she still doubted.

"At least, if you do choose your husband, you will tell your father?"
she resumed.

"I promised that to my sister, and to you, mother. What evil do you
think I could commit while I wear that ring upon my finger and read
those words: 'Think of Bettina?' Poor sister!"

At these words a truce of silence came between the pair; the mother's
blighted eyes rained tears which Mo