y, Madame d'Harville threw herself on her
knees, and, clasping her hands, exclaimed, in a tone of fervent piety
and ineffable gratitude:

"Thanks, thanks, my God, for this exceeding goodness! Ever blessed be
thy gracious name for having permitted me to be the happy bearer of such
joyful tidings,--to wipe away a father's tears by telling him his child
lives to reward his tenderness!"

Although these words, pronounced with the sincerest fervour and holy
ecstasy, were uttered almost in a whisper, yet they reached the
listening ears of Rodolph and his faithful squire; and as Clemence rose
from her knees, the prince gazed on her lovely countenance, irradiated
as it was with celestial happiness and beaming with more than earthly
beauty, with an expression almost amounting to adoration.

Supporting herself with one hand, while with the other she sought to
still the rapid beating of her heart, Madame d'Harville replied by a
sweet smile and an affirmative inclination of the head to the eager,
soul-searching look of Rodolph, a look wholly beyond our poor powers to
describe.

"And where is she?" exclaimed the prince, trembling like a leaf.

"In my carriage."

But for the intervention of Murphy, who threw himself before Rodolph
with the quickness of lightning, the latter would have rushed to the
vehicle.

"Would you kill her, my lord?" exclaimed the squire, forcibly retaining
the prince.

"She was merely pronounced convalescent yesterday," added Clemence;
"therefore, as you value her safety, do not venture to try the poor
girl's strength too far."

"You are right," said Rodolph, scarcely able to restrain himself
sufficiently to follow this prudent advice, "you are quite right. Yes, I
will be calm,--I will not see her at present; I will wait until her
first emotions have subsided. Oh, 'tis too much to endure in so short a
space of time!" Then addressing Madame d'Harville, he said, in an
agitated tone, while he extended to her his hand, "I feel that I am
pardoned, and that you are the angel of forgiveness who brings me the
glad tidings of my remission."

"Nay, my lord, we do but mutually requite our several obligations. You
preserved to me my father, and Heaven permits me to restore your
daughter at a time you bewailed her as lost. But I, too, must beg to be
excused for the weakness which resists all my endeavours to control it;
the sudden and unexpected news you have communicated to me has quite
overcome me, and I conf