t was a habit, Agricola, from childhood. When did your
good and affectionate mother, who nevertheless loved me as her daughter,
ever call me anything else?"

"And did my mother consult you about my marriage, speak to you of the
rare beauty of my bride, beg you to come and see her, and study her
character, in the hope that the instinct of your affection for me would
warn you--if I made a bad choice? Did my mother have this cruelty?--No;
it was I, who thus pierced your heart!"

The fears of the hearer were again aroused; there could be but little
doubt that Agricola knew her secret. She felt herself sinking with
confusion; yet, making a last effort not to believe the discovery, she
murmured in a feeble voice: "True, Agricola! It was not your mother, but
yourself, who made me that request--and I was grateful to you for such a
mark of confidence."

"Grateful, my poor girl!" cried the smith, whilst his eyes filled
with tears; "no, it is not true. I pained you fearfully--I was
merciless--heaven knows, without being aware of it!"

"But," said the other, in a voice now almost unintelligible, "what makes
you think so?"

"Your love for me!" cried the smith, trembling with emotion, as he
clasped Mother Bunch in a brotherly embrace.

"Oh heaven!" murmured the unfortunate creature, as she covered her face
with her hands, "he knows all."

"Yes, I know all," resumed Agricola, with an expression of ineffable
tenderness and respect: "yes, I know all, and I will not have you blush
for a sentiment, which honors me, and of which I feel so justly proud.
Yes, I know all; and I say to myself with joy and pride, that the best,
the most noble heart in the world is mine--will be mine always. Come,
Magdalen; let us leave shame to evil passions. Raise your eyes, and look
at me! You know, if my countenance was ever false--if it ever reflected
a feigned emotion. Then look and tell me, if you cannot read in my
features, how proud I am, Magdalen, how justly proud of your love!"

Overwhelmed with grief and confusion, Mother Bunch had not dared to look
on Agricola; but his words expressed so deep a conviction, the tones of
his voice revealed so tender an emotion, that the poor creature felt her
shame gradually diminish, particularly when Agricola added, with rising
animation: "Be satisfied, my sweet, my noble Magdalen; I will be worthy
of this love. Believe me, it shall yet cause you as much happiness as it
has occasioned tears. Why should this