covered it."

"But," answered Dalibard, readily, "you see two or three persons had
entered before, and their feet must have displaced the leaves."

"Possibly; the evil is now past recall."

"And Mr. Mainwaring? Do you still adhere to one who has cost you so
much, poor child?"

"In three months more I shall be his wife."

Dalibard sighed deeply, but offered no remonstrance.

"Well," he said, taking her hand with mingled reverence and
affection,--"well, I oppose your inclinations no more, for now there
is nothing to risk; you are mistress of your own fortune; and since
Mainwaring has talents, that fortune will suffice for a career. Are
you at length convinced that I have conquered my folly; that I was
disinterested when I incurred your displeasure? If so, can you restore
to me your friendship? You will have some struggle with the world, and,
with my long experience of men and life, even I, the poor exile, may
assist you."

And so thought Lucretia; for with some dread of Dalibard's craft, she
yet credited his attachment to herself, and she felt profound admiration
for an intelligence more consummate and accomplished than any ever
yet submitted to her comprehension. From that time, Dalibard became
an habitual visitor at the house; he never interfered with Lucretia's
interviews with Mainwaring; he took the union for granted, and conversed
with her cheerfully on the prospects before her; he ingratiated himself
with the Fieldens, played with the children, made himself at home, and
in the evenings when Mainwaring, as often as he could find the excuse,
absented himself from the family circle, he contrived to draw Lucretia
into more social intercourse with her homely companions than she had
before condescended to admit. Good Mr. Fielden rejoiced; here was the
very person,--the old friend of Sir Miles, the preceptor of Lucretia
herself, evidently most attached to her, having influence over her,--the
very person to whom to confide his embarrassment. One day, therefore,
when Dalibard had touched his heart by noticing the paleness of Susan,
he took him aside and told him all. "And now," concluded the pastor,
hoping he had found one to relieve him of his dreaded and ungracious
task, "don't you think that I--or rather you--as so old a friend, should
speak frankly to Miss Clavering herself?"

"No, indeed," said the Provencal, quickly; "if we spoke to her, she
would disbelieve us. She would no doubt appeal to Mainwaring, and
Ma