rings_?" exclaimed the countess, catching at a word that
seemed to imply a reproof, which galled the more because she knew it was
deserved. "Your _sufferings_? That is a fitting expression to drop from
your lips! I had the right to believe that, far from causing you
_suffering_, I had put an end to your suffering when I threw open my
doors to admit you."

"You misunderstood me, aunt. I did not intend to say"--

"You have said enough to prove that you add ingratitude to your other
sins. And, since you talk of _sufferings_, I will beg you to remember
the sufferings you have brought upon us,--you, who, in return for all
you have received at my hands, have caused my very grandson to treat me
with disrespect, for the first time in his life. _Your_ sufferings? I
can well conceive that she who creates so much affliction in the house
that has sheltered her,--she who so treacherously pierces the hearts
that have opened to yield her a place,--she who has played the viper
warmed upon almost a mother's bosom,--she may well have sufferings to
wail over!"

Madeleine stood speechless, thunderstruck, by the rude shock of these
words. The countess turned from her, and, preparing to leave the
_chalet_, bade Maurice give her his arm. He silently obeyed, casting a
look of compassionate tenderness upon Madeleine. But she saw it not; all
her vast store of mental strength suddenly melted away! For the first
time in her life she was completely crushed, overwhelmed,--hopeless and
powerless. For a few moments she remained standing as motionless as one
petrified; then, with a heart-broken cry, dropped into a seat, and
covering her face with her hands, sobbed convulsively,--sobbed as though
all the sorrows of her life were concentrated in the anguish of that
moment, and found vent in that deluge of tears,--that stormy whirlwind
of passion! All the clouds in the firmament of her existence, which she
had, day after day, dispelled by the internal sunshine of her patient,
trustful spirit, culminated and broke in that wild flood. Hope was
drowned in that heavy rain; all the flowers that brightened, and the
sweet, springing herbs that lent their balm to her weary pilgrimage,
were beaten down into the mire of despair. There was no ark, no Ararat;
she was alone, without refuge, on the waste of waters.

Her heavy sobs prevented her hearing the entrance of Bertha, and it was
only when the arms of the young girl were fondly twined about her, that
she bec