d, rising suddenly, she said,--

"You think of marrying again?"

He turned his head aside, hesitated moment, and then replied,--

"Yes."

At first the poor girl could not utter a word, so great were her stupor,
her indignation, her bitter grief; then she made an effort, and said in
a pained voice,--

"Do you really tell me so, papa? What! you would bring another wife
to this house, which is still alive with the voice of her whom we have
lost? You would make her sit down in the chair in which she used to sit,
and let her rest her feet on the cushion which she embroidered? Perhaps
you would even want me to call her mamma? Oh, dear papa! surely you do
not think of such profanation!"

The count's trouble was pitiful to behold. And yet, if Henrietta had
been less excited, she would have read in his eye that his mind was made
up.

"What I mean to do is done in your behalf, my dear child," he stammered
out at last. "I am old; I may die; we have no near relations; what would
become of you without a friend?"

She blushed crimson; but she said timidly,--

"But, papa, there is M. Daniel Champcey."

"Well?"

The count's eyes shone with delight as he saw that she was falling into
the pit he had dug for her. The poor girl went on,--

"I thought--I had hoped--poor mamma had told me--in fact, since you had
allowed M. Daniel to come here"--

"You thought I intended to make him my son-in-law?"

She made no answer.

"That was in fact the idea your mother had. She had certainly very odd
notions, against which I had to use the whole strength of my firm will.
A sailor is a sorry kind of husband, my dear child; a word from his
minister may part him for years from his wife."

Henrietta remained silent. She began to understand the nature of the
bargain which her father proposed to her, and it made her indignant.
He thought he had said enough for this time, and left her with these
words,--

"Consider, my child; for my part, I will also think of it."

What should she do? There were a hundred ways; but which to choose?
Finding herself alone, she took a pen, and for the first time in her
life she wrote to Daniel:--

"I must speak to you _instantly_. Pray come.

"Henrietta."

She gave the letter to a servant, ordering him to carry it at once
to its address; and then she waited in a state of feverish anxiety,
counting the minutes.

Daniel Champcey had, in a house not far from the university, three
rooms, the windows