y two paths to
take,--either leave the world or obey its laws. Obey either your earthly
destiny or your heavenly destiny."

"Ah! your voice speaks to me when I need to hear a voice. Yes, God has
sent you to me; I will bid farewell to the world and live for God alone,
in silence and seclusion."

"My daughter, you must think long before you take so violent a step.
Marriage is life, the veil is death."

"Yes, death,--a quick death!" she said, with dreadful eagerness.

"Death? but you have great obligations to fulfil to society,
mademoiselle. Are you not the mother of the poor, to whom you give
clothes and wood in winter and work in summer? Your great fortune is a
loan which you must return, and you have sacredly accepted it as such.
To bury yourself in a convent would be selfishness; to remain an old
maid is to fail in duty. In the first place, can you manage your vast
property alone? May you not lose it? You will have law-suits, you will
find yourself surrounded by inextricable difficulties. Believe your
pastor: a husband is useful; you are bound to preserve what God has
bestowed upon you. I speak to you as a precious lamb of my flock. You
love God too truly not to find your salvation in the midst of his world,
of which you are noble ornament and to which you owe your example."

At this moment Madame des Grassins was announced. She came incited by
vengeance and the sense of a great despair.

"Mademoiselle," she said--"Ah! here is monsieur le cure; I am silent.
I came to speak to you on business; but I see that you are conferring
with--"

"Madame," said the cure, "I leave the field to you."

"Oh! monsieur le cure," said Eugenie, "come back later; your support is
very necessary to me just now."

"Ah, yes, indeed, my poor child!" said Madame des Grassins.

"What do you mean?" asked Eugenie and the cure together.

"Don't I know about your cousin's return, and his marriage with
Mademoiselle d'Aubrion? A woman doesn't carry her wits in her pocket."

Eugenie blushed, and remained silent for a moment. From this day forth
she assumed the impassible countenance for which her father had been so
remarkable.

"Well, madame," she presently said, ironically, "no doubt I carry my
wits in my pocket, for I do not understand you. Speak, say what you
mean, before monsieur le cure; you know he is my director."

"Well, then, mademoiselle, here is what des Grassins writes me. Read
it."

Eugenie read the following letter:--