dolph gravely replied:

"You are unjust, Morel; it was not for herself alone, but for her aged
and afflicted parent, her children, and you, that your poor wife dreaded
the consequences of Louise's quitting the notary's house. Accuse no one;
but let all your just anger, your bitter curses, fall on the head that
alone deserves it,--on that hypocritical monster who offered a weak and
helpless girl the alternative of infamy or ruin; perhaps destruction;
perhaps death to those she most tenderly loved,--on the fiend who could
thus abuse the power he held, thus prey upon the tenderest, holiest
feelings of a loving daughter, thus shamelessly outrage every moral and
religious duty. But patience; as I before remarked, Providence
frequently reserves for crimes so black as this a fearful and astounding
retribution."

As Rodolph uttered these words, he spoke with a tone so expressive of
his own conviction of the certain vengeance of Heaven, that Louise gazed
at her preserver with a surprise not unmingled with fear.

"Go on, my poor girl," resumed Rodolph, addressing Louise; "conceal
nothing from us: it is more important than you can be aware that you
should relate the most minute details of your sad story."

Thus encouraged, Louise proceeded:

"I began, therefore, as I told you, to regain my tranquillity, when one
evening both M. Ferrand and his housekeeper went out. They did not dine
at home. I was quite alone in the house. As usual, my allowance of
bread, wine, and water was left for me, and every place carefully
locked. When I had finished my work, I took the food placed for me, and,
having made my meal, I retired to my bedroom, thinking it less dull than
remaining down-stairs by myself. I took care to leave a light in the
hall for my master, as when he dined out no one ever sat up for him.
Once in my chamber, I seated myself and commenced my sewing; but,
contrary to my usual custom, I found the greatest difficulty in keeping
myself awake. A heavy drowsiness seemed to steal over, and a weight like
lead seemed to press on my eyelids. Alas, dear father!" cried Louise,
interrupting herself as though frightened at her own recital, "I feel
sure you will not credit what I am about to say, you will believe I am
uttering falsehoods; and yet, here, over the lifeless body of my poor
little sister, I swear to the truth of each word I speak."

"Explain yourself, my good girl," said Rodolph.

"Indeed, sir," answered Louise, "you ask me