th the
business of the house, not to feel that a great catastrophe hung over
the Morrel family. Night came, the two women had watched, hoping that
when he left his room Morrel would come to them, but they heard him pass
before their door, and trying to conceal the noise of his footsteps.
They listened; he went into his sleeping-room, and fastened the door
inside. Madame Morrel sent her daughter to bed, and half an hour after
Julie had retired, she rose, took off her shoes, and went stealthily
along the passage, to see through the keyhole what her husband was
doing. In the passage she saw a retreating shadow; it was Julie, who,
uneasy herself, had anticipated her mother. The young lady went towards
Madame Morrel.

"He is writing," she said. They had understood each other without
speaking. Madame Morrel looked again through the keyhole, Morrel was
writing; but Madame Morrel remarked, what her daughter had not observed,
that her husband was writing on stamped paper. The terrible idea that he
was writing his will flashed across her; she shuddered, and yet had not
strength to utter a word. Next day M. Morrel seemed as calm as ever,
went into his office as usual, came to his breakfast punctually, and
then, after dinner, he placed his daughter beside him, took her head
in his arms, and held her for a long time against his bosom. In the
evening, Julie told her mother, that although he was apparently so calm,
she had noticed that her father's heart beat violently. The next
two days passed in much the same way. On the evening of the 4th of
September, M. Morrel asked his daughter for the key of his study. Julie
trembled at this request, which seemed to her of bad omen. Why did her
father ask for this key which she always kept, and which was only taken
from her in childhood as a punishment? The young girl looked at Morrel.

"What have I done wrong, father," she said, "that you should take this
key from me?"

"Nothing, my dear," replied the unhappy man, the tears starting to his
eyes at this simple question,--"nothing, only I want it." Julie made
a pretence to feel for the key. "I must have left it in my room,"
she said. And she went out, but instead of going to her apartment she
hastened to consult Emmanuel. "Do not give this key to your father,"
said he, "and to-morrow morning, if possible, do not quit him for a
moment." She questioned Emmanuel, but he knew nothing, or would not say
what he knew. During the night, between the 4