te her claims."

"Be assured," replied the priest, "I will with pleasure discharge the
trust committed to me."

"But that is not the only matter in which your assistance is solicited."

"So much the better, if the others resemble this, for, without seeking
the motives which dictate it, a voluntary restitution is always
calculated to excite a deep interest; these rigid decrees of an
awakened conscience are always the harbingers of a deep and sincere
repentance, and such an expiation cannot fail to bring forth good
fruits."

"True, M. l'Abbe, the soul must indeed be in a perilous state when such
a sum as one hundred thousand crowns is voluntarily refunded. For my
part, I confess to having felt more inquisitive on the subject than
yourself; but what chance had my curiosity against the firm and unshaken
discretion of my friend Jacques? I am, therefore, still in ignorance of
the name of the individual who thus restores such immense wealth for
their conscience' sake."

"But," continued Polidori, eyeing Jacques Ferrand with a keen,
significant glance, "you will hear to what an extent are carried the
generous scruples of the author of this restitution; and, to tell the
truth, I strongly suspect that our right-minded friend here was the
first to awaken the slumbering feelings of the guilty person, as well as
to point out the surest and fittest way of tranquillising them."

"How so?" inquired the priest.

"What do you mean?" asked the notary.

"Why, remember the Morels, those honest, deserving people."

"True, true!" interposed Jacques Ferrand, in a hasty tone, "I had
forgotten them."

"Imagine, M. l'Abbe, that the author of this restitution, doubtless
influenced by Jacques, not contented with the restitution of this large
sum, wishes also--But my worthy friend shall speak for himself--I will
not deprive him of the pleasure of relating so fine an action."

"Pray let me hear all about it, my dear M. Ferrand," said the priest.

"You are aware," replied Jacques Ferrand, with affected sympathy,
strangely mingled with the deep repugnance he entertained at being
compelled to play a part so opposite to his inclinations, and which
betrayed itself in the alteration his voice and manner exhibited, even
in spite of all his attempts to be on his guard,--"you are aware, I say,
M. l'Abbe, that the misconduct of that unhappy girl, Louise Morel, took
so deep an effect on her father as to deprive him of his senses, and to
reduce hi