motives of
prudence and delicacy with respect to Walter, and that when the latter
arrived, their daughter would either require him to release her from her
rash engagement, or empower them to acquaint him with her change of
sentiments.

Nothing could be farther from truth, however, than this fancied
arrangement of the worthy elders. Whatever were d'Arval's ultimate
views and hopes, he had contented himself during his visit with
playing the favourite lover _pro tempore_. Perhaps he was too
honourable to take further advantage of his rival's absence--perhaps
too delicate, too romantic, to owe his mistress's hand to any but her
cool after-decision, unbiassed by his fascinating presence. In short,
whatever was the reason, he was _au desespoir--accable!--aneanti!_
But he departed, leaving la belle Adrienne very much in doubt whether
his departure was desirable or otherwise. It certainly demolished a
pretty little airy fabric she had amused herself with constructing
at odd idle moments of tender reverie; such as a meeting of the
rivals--jealousy--reproaches--an interesting dilemma--desperation on one
side (she had not settled which)--rapture on the other--defiance to
mortal combat--bloodshed, perhaps. But these feelings drew a veil over
the imaginary picture, and passed on to the sweet anticipation of
rewarding the survivor. If the marring of so ingenious a fancy sketch
were somewhat vexatious, on the other hand it would be agreeable enough
to be quite at liberty (for a time at least), after Walter's return, to
resume her former relations with him. And as to the result, whatever was
_his_ impatience, that might still be delayed, and the Marquis would
return. She was sure of him, if after all she should decide in his
favour; and then, who could tell--the fancy sketch might be completed at
last. La petite Madelaine was not of course made the depositary of her
fair cousin's private cogitations; but she had her own, as has been
observed, and she saw, and thought, and drew her inferences--devoutly
hated Le Marquis d'Arval--could not love her cousin--and pitied--Oh! how
she pitied le bon Walter!

Le bon Walter, whose term of banishment was now within three weeks of
expiration, would have accounted himself the most enviable of mortals,
but for his almost ungovernable impatience at the tedious interval which
was yet to separate him from his beloved; and for a slight shade of
disquietude at certain rumours respecting a certain Marqui