the Count.

"One day in June, news arrived of the sudden death of my father. It was
communicated to my mother, by the messenger who brought it, without
precaution. That night, one hour after, I was ushered into an orphaned
existence and my mother took her departure from the world. Think of
me, Adele, thus thrown a waif upon the shore of life. Yet, though born
in the shadow of a great sorrow, sunlight struck across my path.

"The faithful _bonne_, who had taken care of my mother in her infancy
and had never left her, now took charge of me. She watched over me
faithfully and filled up my childhood with affectionate attention and
innocent pastime. My uncle, the Count, who had never been married,
loved, petted, and indulged me in every wish. When I grew old enough,
he secured a governess well qualified to teach and discipline me.
Under her care, with the aid of masters in Latin, music, and drawing,
from Amiens, I went through the course of instruction considered
necessary for young ladies at that time.

"I was at your age my Adele when I first met your father. He was not
the bronzed and careworn man you see him now. Ah! no. He was young and
gay, with a falcon glance and, black wreathing locks hanging over his
white, smooth brow. His father was of noble blood, and sympathized
warmly with the dethroned Bourbons. He was no lover of the great
Consul. The political troubles in France had operated in ways greatly
to impoverish his house.

"He owned and occupied only the remnant of what had been a large
estate, adjoining that of the Count de Ros.

"While acquiring his education, your father, except at occasional
intervals, was six years from home, and it so happened that I never
met him in my childhood. Indeed, the families were not on terms of
intimacy. On his return from the University, I first saw him. _Eh!
bien!_ It is the same old story that you have heard and read of, in
your books, my Adele. We became acquainted, I will not stop now, to
tell you how, and soon learned to love each other. Time passed on, and
at last your father sought the consent of my uncle, to our marriage.
But he put aside the proposition with anger and scorn. He thought that
Claude Dubois was neither distinguished nor rich enough to match his
niece. In his heart, he had reserved me for some conspicuous position
in the great circle at Paris, while I had given myself to an obscure
youth in Picardy.

"Your father was too honorable to ask me to marry h