ind out where you were; after long efforts, it was only this
morning that the person I had employed succeeded in discovering that you
inhabited this house. Agricola was with me when I heard it, and instantly
asked to accompany me."

"Agricola!" said Mother Bunch, clasping her hands; "he came--"

"Yes, my child--be calm. Whilst I attended to you, he was busy with your
poor sister. You will soon see him."

"Alas, lady!" resumed the hunchback, in alarm. "He doubtless knows--"

"Your love! No, no; be satisfied. Only think of the happiness of again
seeing your good and worthy brother."

"Ah, lady! may he never know what caused me so much shame, that I was
like to die of it. Thank God, he is not aware of it!"

"Then let us have no more sad thoughts, my child. Only remember, that
this worthy brother came here in time to save us from everlasting
regrets--and you from a great fault. Oh! I do not speak of the prejudices
of the world, with regard to the right of every creature to return to
heaven a life that has become too burdensome!--I only say that you ought
not to have died, because those who love you, and whom you love, were
still in need of your assistance."

"I thought you happy; Agricola was married to the girl of his choice, who
will, I am sure, make him happy. To whom could I be useful?"

"First, to myself, as you see--and then, who tells you that Agricola will
never have need of you? Who tells you, that his happiness, or that of his
family, will last forever, and will not be tried by cruel shocks? And
even if those you love had been destined to be always happy, could their
happiness be complete without you? And would not your death, with which
they would perhaps have reproached themselves, have left behind it
endless regrets?"

"It is true, lady," answered the other, "I was wrong--the dizziness of
despair had seized me--frightful misery weighed upon us--we had not been
able to find work for some days--we lived on the charity of a poor woman,
and her the cholera carried off. To-morrow or next day, we must have died
of hunger."

"Die of hunger!--and you knew where I lived!"

"I had written to you, lady, and receiving no answer, I thought you
offended at my abrupt departure."

"Poor, dear child! you must have been, as you say, seized with dizziness
in that terrible moment; so that I have not the courage to reproach you
for doubting me a single instant. How can I blame you? Did I not myself
think of terminatin