n wept, when he took us
by the hand, and, spreading wide his beautiful white wings, carried us
along with him to the blue depths of the sky."

"To heaven, where our dear mother waited for us with open arms, her face
all bathed in tears."

"Oh, sweet sister! one has not dreams like ours for nothing. And then,"
added she, looking at Rose, with a sad smile that went to the heart,
"our death might perhaps end the sorrow, of which we have been the
cause."

"Alas! it is not our fault. We love him so much. But we are so timid and
sorrowful before him, that he may perhaps think we love him not."

So saying, Rose took her handkerchief from her workbasket, to dry her
fears; a paper, folded in the form of a letter, fell out.

At this sight, the two shuddered, and pressed close to one mother,
and Rose said to Blanche, in a trembling voice: "Another of these
letters!--Oh, I am afraid! It will doubtless be like the last."

"We must pick it up quickly, that it may not be seen," said Blanche,
hastily stooping to seize the letter; "the people who take interest in
us might otherwise be exposed to great danger."

"But how could this letter come to us?"

"How did the others come to be placed right under our hand, and always
in the absence of our duenna?"

"It is true. Why seek to explain the mystery? We should never be able to
do so. Let us read the letter. It will perhaps be more favorable to us
than the last." And the two sisters read as follows:-"Continue to love
your father, dear children, for he is very miserable, and you are the
involuntary cause of his distress. You will never know the terrible
sacrifices that your presence imposes on him; but, alas! he is the
victim of his paternal duties. His sufferings are more cruel than ever;
spare him at least those marks of tenderness, which occasion him so much
more pain than pleasure. Each caress is a dagger-stroke, for he sees in
you the innocent cause of his misfortunes. Dear children, you must not
therefore despair. If you have enough command over yourselves, not to
torture him by the display of too warm a tenderness, if you can mingle
some reserve with your affection, you will greatly alleviate his sorrow.
Keep these letters a secret from every one, even from good Dagobert,
who loves you so much; otherwise, both he and you, your father, and
the unknown friend who is writing to you, will be exposed to the utmost
peril, for your enemies are indeed formidable. Courage and hope! M