ort of teaching
she will get there; she will be taught to hate and despise me,
and then they will make her a nun--they will try to do it, but
that shall never be! I will make Madelon promise me that. My
little one a nun!--I will not have it! Ah! I risk too much; she
shall not go!"

He fell back on the pillow gasping, panting, almost sobbing,
all pretence and semblance of cynicism and indifference gone
in the miserable moment of weakness and despair. Was it for
this, then, that he had taught his child to love him--that he
had watched and guarded and cherished her--that he should place
her now in the hands of his enemy, and that she should learn
to hate his memory when he was dead? Ah! he was dying, and
from the grave there would be no return--no hand could be
stretched out from thence to claim her--no voice make itself
heard to appeal to her old love for him, to remind her of
happy bygone days when she had believed in him, and to bid her
to be faithful to him still. Those others would be able to
work their will then, while he lay silent for evermore, and
his little one would too surely learn what manner of father
she had had, perhaps--who knows?--learn to rejoice in the day
that had set her free from his influence.

Graham very likely understood something of what was passing in
M. Linders' mind, revealed, as it had been, by those few
broken words, for he said in a kind voice,

"I think you may surely trust to your child's love for you, M.
Linders, for she seems to have found all her happiness in it
hitherto, and it is so strong and true that I do not think it
will be easily shaken, nor can I fancy anyone will be cruel
enough to attempt it." And then, seeing how little capable M.
Linders seemed at that moment of judging wisely, he went on to
urge the necessity of Madelon's being sent to her aunt as her
natural guardian, representing the impossibility of leaving
her without money or friends in the midst of strangers.

"There is a little money," said M. Linders, "a few thousand
francs--I do not know how much exactly; you will find it in
that desk. It would start her for the stage; she has talent--
she would rise. S---- heard her sing once; if he were here now,
we might arrange----"

He was rambling off in a low broken voice, hardly conscious,
perhaps, of what he was saying. Graham once more interposed.

"No, no," he said, "you must not think of it. Let her go to
her aunt. Don't be uneasy about her getting there s