ssionate terms she had expressed her love
for her adopted brother, if we recall many passages of this manuscript,
in which she revealed the painful wounds often inflicted on her by
Agricola without knowing it, and if we consider how great was her terror
of ridicule, we shall understand her mad despair on reading this infamous
letter. Mother Bunch did not think for a moment of all the noble words
and touching narratives contained in her journal. The one horrible idea
which weighed down the troubled spirit of the unfortunate creature, was,
that on the morrow Agricola, Mdlle. de Cardoville, and an insolent and
mocking crowd, would be informed of this ridiculous love, which would,
she imagined, crush her with shame and confusion. This new blow was so
stunning, that the recipient staggered a moment beneath the unexpected
shock. For some minutes, she remained completely inert and helpless;
then, upon reflection, she suddenly felt conscious of a terrible
necessity.

This hospitable mansion, where she had found a sure refuge after so many
misfortunes, must be left for ever. The trembling timidity and sensitive
delicacy of the poor creature did not permit her to remain a minute more
in this dwelling, where the most secret recesses of her soul had been
laid open, profaned, and exposed no doubt to sarcasm and contempt. She
did not think of demanding justice and revenge from Mdlle. de Cardoville.
To cause a ferment of trouble and irritation in this house, at the moment
of quitting it, would have appeared to her ingratitude towards her
benefactress. She did not seek to discover the author or the motive of
this odious robbery and insulting letter. Why should she, resolved, as
she was, to fly from the humiliations with which she was threatened? She
had a vague notion (as indeed was intended), that this infamy might be
the work of some of the servants, jealous of the affectionate deference
shown her by Mdlle. de Cardoville--and this thought filled her with
despair. Those pages--so painfully confidential, which she would not have
ventured to impart to the most tender and indulgent mother, because,
written as it were with her heart's blood, they painted with too cruel a
fidelity the thousand secret wounds of her soul--those pages were to
serve, perhaps served even now, for the jest and laughing-stock of the
lackeys of the mansion.

The money which accompanied this letter, and the insulting way in which
it was offered, rather tended to c