had actually sat
beside his couch, and watched over him during his illness, reason
essayed to efface the impression which could hardly have been made by
the fingers of reality. Even granting that Madeleine, on leaving
Brittany, had joined the sisterhood, and proposed to devote her life to
holy offices, for which she was richly dowered by nature, was there not
a novitiate to be passed? How could she so soon have entered upon her
sacred duties? And if by some mysterious dispensation she had been
absolved from the probation of a novice, how could she have learned that
he was ill? How could she have come to him so promptly? Was it probable
that Mr. Walton, an entire stranger, had, by mere accident, selected a
nurse from the very society which she had joined? These questions, and
others equally difficult to answer, sprang up constantly in his mind,
and found no satisfactory solution. Yet the conviction that he had
actually beheld her remained unshaken.

Bertha had been apprised by her aunt of the dangerous illness of
Maurice, and had written to him when he was unable to read her letters.
As soon as he was convalescent, they were placed in his hands.

"My dear Gaston, write a line to my cousin for me," begged Maurice,
feeling that he had not strength to reply, and little dreaming what a
thrill of joy ran through Gaston's frame at that request.

M. de Bois wrote,--wrote with an eloquence that could never have found
utterance through his tongue.

If we may judge from the number of times Bertha perused that letter, or
if we may draw an inference from her wearing it about her person
(probably that she might be able to refresh her memory with its
information concerning her cousin), the epistle was either very
difficult of comprehension, or it had some witching spell which drew her
eyes irresistibly to its cabalistic characters.

She had not recovered her wonted buoyancy. Beneath her uncle's roof she
pined for Madeleine hardly less than at the Chateau de Gramont.

The Marquis de Merrivale, her guardian, was a bachelor. The chief object
of his existence was an endeavor to "take life easy," and guard himself
from all vexations and discomforts. His next aim was to pamper the
cravings of an epicurean appetite, but always with such judicious
ministry that his digestive organs might not be impaired thereby. He was
good-natured on principle, because it was too much trouble to get
excited and vexed. His equanimity was seldom disturb