r
ever. Was it for ever? A gleam of hope brightened in her streaming
eyes--"Her dear Armand! Le petit frere would return to the Manoir, and
_he_ would never shut its gates against poor Madelaine."

Her husband availed himself of the auspicious moment; he encouraged her
hopes, and she listened with the eager simplicity of a child; he spoke
words of comfort, and she was comforted; of love, and she forgot her
fault and her remorse--her home--her friends--the world--and everything
in it but himself.

Three days from that ever-memorable morning, la petite Madelaine stood
with her husband upon English ground, but for him, a stranger in a
strange land--the portionless bride of a poor subaltern. For though she
had brought with her all the "effets" which, through Madame's special
indulgence, she had been permitted to remove from her own little
turret-chamber, they helped but poorly towards the future menage,
consisting only of her scanty wardrobe, a few books (her most precious
property), a little embroidered purse, containing a louis-d'or, sundry
old silver coins, and pieces de dix sous, a bonbonniere full of dragees,
a birthday present from le petit frere, a gold etui, the gift of her
grandmother, and a pair of silver sugar-tongs, the bequest of old
Jeannette. To this splendid inventory she was, however, graciously
allowed to annex the transfer of honest Roland, her father's ancient
servitor, who, as if endowed with rational comprehension, made shift to
leap into the cart which conveyed to Caen the poor possessions of his
master's daughter, and came crouching to her feet, with looks and
actions needing no interpretation to speak intelligibly--"Mistress!
lead on, and I will follow thee."

The married pair were indeed embarked together on a rough sea, with
little provision for the voyage, to which they had been in a manner
prematurely driven; but, by the blessing of Providence, they weathered
out its storms, now sheltering for a season in some calm and friendly
haven, and anon compelled (but with recruited courage) to renew their
conflict with the winds and waves. But throughout, their hearts were
strong, for they were faithfully united; and that devoted affection for
her husband, which had saved the heart of Madelaine from breaking in its
first and sharpest agony (the sharpest, because mingled with remorse),
was the continued support and sweetener of her after-life, through a lot
of infinite vicissitude.

If haply I have e