t as a few weeks, and kept the memory of those
stormy scenes fresher than that of the events that, one by
one, had crept into the convent life, and slowly modified its
dull course. The news of her brother's death had affected her
but little; but the sight of the familiar handwriting, the
very framing of the sentences and choice of words, which had
seemed to her like a fresh challenge even from his grave, had
revived a thousand passions, jealousies, enmities, which one
might have thought dead and buried for ever. What ghosts from
old years that Graham could not see, what memories from her
childhood and girlhood, what shadows from the old Paris life,
were thronging round Therese Linders, as with changed name and
dress she sat there in her convent parlour! Old familiar forms
flitting to and fro, old voices ringing in her ears, her
brother young, handsome, and indulged, herself plain,
unprepossessing, neglected, and a mother whom she had held to
and watched till the last, yet turning from her to the son who
had scorned her wishes and broken her heart. It had all
happened twenty-five years ago, but to the Superior it seemed
but as yesterday. The old hatred blazed up again, in the form,
as it doubtless appeared to her, of an anger righteous even
against the dead. Nor was the revival without its charms, with
all its old associations of strife and antagonism--like a
breeze blowing freshly from the outer world, and suddenly
stirring the slow, creeping current of her daily life.

"I never said I would not take charge of my niece," she said;
"on the contrary, I have every intention of so doing. I only
wish to make it clearly understood that my brother had no sort
of claim upon me, and that I consider every line of this
letter an insult."

"His child, at least, is innocent," began Graham.

"I am not likely to hold her responsible for her father's
misdeeds," says Madame, drawing herself up. "I repeat that I
am willing to receive my niece at once, though I cannot
suppose that with the education and training she has received,
she is likely to be anything but a burden and a care; however,
that can be looked to and corrected!"

"Indeed you will find her a most innocent and loveable child,"
pleaded Graham eagerly, and not without an inward dismay at
the idea of our little unconscious Madelon being looked to,
and corrected by this grim woman; "she thinks her father was
perfection, it is true, but it is through her total want of
c