e dowries. But they knew not
my secret. All my love was buried in a quiet Algerian grave, within
sight of the ever-sounding sea. I had never loved before; I should never
love again. I shuddered at the idea of a mere _mariage de convenance_.
Love and love only could make the chains of matrimony bearable. Who
could love again after such a love, such a marriage as mine?

"I soon felt the life of Paris feverish, enervating. There was no rest,
or repose, or freedom about it. A wild series of frivolities succeeded
each other: court ceremonies--Napoleon III. reigned at the
Tuileries--balls, receptions, the life of the clubs. I hated wine, yet
indulged freely in it to help me through the days. I had not been made
for this kind of life; all the better parts of my nature were being
stifled. Still I went on from week to week, partly because I could not
tear myself away from Albert and his charming wife.

"At last I fell ill of a nervous malady which prostrated my strength.
The doctors ordered brandy in large doses. They should rather have
forbidden it. The day came when I saw that brandy was my master. I could
not live without it. Nothing could exceed my horror when I made the
discovery. Then the moral struggle began, and that my nature was strong
only made the conflict more severe. But the evil was more physical than
mental or moral and so far beyond my control.

"At length, almost in despair, sick of this frivolous, aimless life, I
vowed to devote my days to the service of Heaven if I might be permitted
to conquer.

"Again I fell ill, but this time of a malady for which all stimulant was
forbidden. For weeks I kept my bed, part of the time hovering between
life and death. Heaven was merciful. My vow had been heard, my prayer
answered. When I recovered, the victory had been gained for me. I hated
the very sight of all stimulant. From that hour nothing stronger than
tea or coffee has passed my lips.

"I left Paris and returned to my home in Provence. What delight, what
repose, what charm I found there. Paradise had once more opened its
gates. There, with the Abbe, I spent a whole year in calm and quiet
retreat. Health and vigour of mind, strength of body, returned to me.

"But I did not forget my vow. The Abbe treated me to many an argument
and disquisition upon the subject. He showed me the life of an
ecclesiastic in all its lights and shadows; the sacrifice of domestic
happiness it entailed; the constant self-denials if I