that I have turned you out of
my house, and will send him to gaol to-morrow.' He then left me,
stretched on the floor, whence I had not the power to rise. Madame
Seraphin had run in when she heard her master raise his voice so loud,
and with her assistance, and staggering at every step, I regained my
chamber, where I threw myself on my bed, and remained until night, so
entirely was I prostrated by all that had happened. By the pains that
came on about one o'clock in the morning, I felt assured that I should
be prematurely a mother."

"Why did you not summon assistance?"

"Oh, I did not dare. M. Ferrand was anxious to get rid of me, and he
would certainly have sent for Dr. Vincent, who would have killed me at
my master's instead of killing me at the Martials, or else M. Ferrand
would have stifled me, and said that I had died in my confinement. Alas,
sir, perhaps these were vain terrors, but they came over me at this
moment and caused my suffering; otherwise I would have endured the
shame, and should never have been accused of killing my child. Instead
of calling for help, and for fear my cries should be heard, I stuffed my
mouth full with the bedclothes. At length, after dreadful anguish,
alone, in the midst of darkness, the child was born, and,--dead,--I did
not kill it!--indeed, I did not kill it,--ah, no! In the midst of this
fearful night I had one moment of bitter joy, and that was when I
pressed my child in my arms."

And the voice of Louise was stifled with sobs.

Morel had listened to his daughter's recital with a mournful apathy and
indifference which alarmed Rodolph. However, seeing her burst into
tears, the lapidary, who was still leaning on his work-board with his
two hands pressed against his temples, looked at Louise steadfastly, and
said:

"She weeps,--she weeps,--why is she weeping?" Then, after a moment's
hesitation, "Ah, yes,--I know, I know,--the notary,--isn't it? Go on my
poor Louise,--you are my daughter,--I love you still,--just now I did
not recognise you,--my eyes were darkened with my tears,--oh, my
head,--how badly it aches,--my head, my head!"

"You do not believe me guilty, do you, father, do you?"

"Oh, no, no!"

"It is a terrible misfortune; but I was so fearful of the notary."

"The notary? Ah, yes, and well you might be; he is so wicked, so very
wicked!"

"But you will forgive me now?"

"Yes, yes."

"Really and truly?"

"Yes--ah, yes! Ah! I love you the same as ever,--al