ollect his ideas, then, pressing his
hand upon his forehead, looked at his daughter with an inquiring glance,
and said:

"I fancy I have been ill, or something is wrong with my
head--grief--fatigue--tell me, my child--what were you saying just now?
I seem almost unable to recollect."

"When," continued Louise, unheeding her father's look, "when M. Ferrand
discovered that I was likely to become a mother--"

Here the lapidary waved his hand in despairing agony, but Rodolph calmed
him by an imploring look.

"Yes, yes," said Morel, "let me hear all; 'tis fit and right the tale
should be told. Go on, go on, my girl, and I will listen from beginning
to end."

Louise went on. "I besought M. Ferrand to tell me by what means I should
conceal my shame, and the consequence of a crime of which he was the
author. Alas, dear father, I can scarcely hope or believe you will
credit what I am about to tell you."

"What did he say? Speak."

"Interrupting me with much indignation and well-feigned surprise, he
affected not to understand my meaning, and even inquired whether I had
not lost my senses. Terrified, I exclaimed, 'Oh, sir, what is to become
of me? Alas, if you have no pity on me, pity at least the poor infant
that must soon see the light!'

"'What a lost, depraved character!' cried M. Ferrand, raising his
clasped hands towards heaven. 'Horrible, indeed! Why, you poor, wretched
girl, is it possible that you have the audacity to accuse me of
disgracing myself by any illicit acquaintance with a person of your
infamous description? Can it be that you have the hardihood to lay the
fruits of your immoral conduct and gross irregularity at my door,--I,
who have repeated a hundred times, in the presence of respectable
witnesses, that you would come to ruin some day, vile profligate that
you are? Quit my house this instant, or I will drive you out!'"

Rodolph and Morel were struck with horror; a system of wickedness like
this seemed to freeze their blood.

"By Heaven!" said Rodolph, "this surpasses any horrors that imagination
could have conceived."

Morel did not speak, but his eyes expanded fearfully, whilst a
convulsive spasm contracted his features. He quitted the stool on which
he was sitting, opened a drawer suddenly, and, taking out a long and
very sharp file, fixed in a wooden handle, he rushed towards the door.
Rodolph, guessing his thoughts, seized his arm, and stopped his
progress.

"Morel, where are you going? Y