but extremely pretty, well
educated, and much more vivacious than her mother.

Mademoiselle Marie was so quick-witted that her mother often suspected
she knew the secret which concerned herself. Sometimes she talked too
much of M. de Camors; sometimes she talked too little, and assumed a
mysterious air when others spoke of him.

Madame de Tecle was a little disturbed by these eccentricities. The
conduct of M. de Camors, and his more than reserved bearing, annoyed
her occasionally; but when we love any one we are likely to interpret
favorably all that he does, or all that he omits to do. Madame de Tecle
readily attributed the equivocal conduct of the Count to the inspiration
of a chivalric loyalty. As she believed she knew him thoroughly, she
thought he wished to avoid committing himself, or awakening public
observation, before he had made up his mind.

He acted thus to avoid disturbing the repose of both mother and
daughter. Perhaps also the large fortune which seemed destined for
Mademoiselle de Tecle might add to his scruples by rousing his pride.

His not marrying was in itself a good augury, and his little fiancee was
reaching a marriageable age. She therefore did not despair that some
day M. de Camors would throw himself at her feet, and say, "Give her to
met!"

If God did not intend that this delicious page should ever be written
in the book of her destiny, and she was forced to marry her daughter to
another, the poor woman consoled herself with the thought that all the
cares she lavished upon her would not be lost, and that her dear child
would thus be rendered better and happier.

The long months which intervened between the annual apparition of Camors
at Reuilly, filled up by Madame de Tecle with a single idea and by the
sweet monotony of a regular life, passed more rapidly than the Count
could have imagined. His own life, so active and so occupied, placed
ages and abysses between each of his periodical voyages. But Madame
de Tecle, after five years, was always only a day removed from the
cherished and fatal night on which her dream had begun. Since that
period there had been no break in her thoughts, no void in her heart, no
wrinkle on her forehead. Her dream continued young, like herself. But
in spite of the peaceful and rapid succession of her days, it was not
without anxiety that she saw the approach of the season which always
heralded the return of Camors.

As her daughter matured, she preoccupied