appreciating
the wisdom of the words she heard, and very much dismayed to find what
this relative, out of great experience, passed judgment upon Victor as
her father had done, though in somewhat milder terms. Perhaps some quick
prevision of the future crossed her mind; doubtless, at any rate, she
felt the heavy weight of the burden which must inevitably overwhelm
her, for she burst into tears, and sprang to the old lady's arms. "Be my
mother," she sobbed.

The aunt shed no tears. The Revolution had left old ladies of the
Monarchy but few tears to shed. Love, in bygone days, and the Terror at
a later time, had familiarized them with extremes of joy and anguish in
such a sort that, amid the perils of life, they preserved their dignity
and coolness, a capacity for sincere but undemonstrative affection
which never disturbed their well-bred self-possession, and a dignity of
demeanor which a younger generation has done very ill to discard.

The dowager took Julie in her arms, and kissed her on the forehead with
a tenderness and pity more often found in women's ways and manner than
in their hearts. Then she coaxed her niece with kind, soothing words,
assured her of a happy future, lulled her with promises of love, and
put her to bed as if she had been not a niece, but a daughter, a
much-beloved daughter whose hopes and cares she had made her own.
Perhaps the old Marquise had found her own youth and inexperience and
beauty again in this nephew's wife. And the Countess fell asleep, happy
to have found a friend, nay a mother, to whom she could tell everything
freely.

Next morning, when the two women kissed each other with heartfelt
kindness, and that look of intelligence which marks a real advance in
friendship, a closer intimacy between two souls, they heard the sound
of horsehoofs, and, turning both together, saw the young Englishman ride
slowly past the window, after his wont. Apparently he had made a certain
study of the life led by the two lonely women, for he never failed
to ride by as they sat at breakfast, and again at dinner. His horse
slackened pace of its own accord, and for the space of time required
to pass the two windows in the room, its rider turned a melancholy look
upon the Countess, who seldom deigned to take the slightest notion of
him. Not so the Marquise. Minds not necessarily little find it difficult
to resist the little curiosity which fastens upon the most trifling
event that enlivens provincial life;