her, on equal terms, after having all their lives looked upon one
another as tyrants and low revengeful servants."

"I do not think any one looks on me as a tyrant, or would think of
hurting poor grandpapa or me. How you shake your head, Pierre! We have
lived seven years in peace and quiet--sometimes being afraid, but never
having found cause for fear. However, if grandpapa really is uneasy--"

"That is the point, Mademoiselle. He is so."

"Do you suppose I could see the abbess, if I were to go to the convent
to consult her? It is not late."

"If the Dumonts were but here still!" said Pierre--"only next door but
one! It was a comfort to have them at hand on any difficulty."

"If they were here, I should not consult them. They were so prejudiced
against all the mulattoes, and put so little trust in L'Ouverture
himself--as indeed their going off in such a hurry with Hedouville
proves--that I should not have cared for their opinion to-night.
Suppose you step to the convent, Pierre, and ask whether the lady abbess
could see me for half-an-hour on business. If I am to leave grandpapa,
I should like to tell him in the morning that it is all settled."

Pierre went with alacrity, and was back in three minutes, when he found
Euphrosyne shawled and veiled for the visit. The lady awaited her.

"What can I do for you, my child?" said the abbess, kindly seating
Euphrosyne beside her, in her parlour.

"You will tell me what you think it is my duty to do, when I have told
you my story. I know I have laughed and joked too much about this very
matter; and that partly because I had a will of my own about it. But it
is all serious enough now; and I really do wish to find out my duty upon
it."

"In order to do your duty, whatever it may cost you?"

"Certainly."

She then told her story. The lady at length smiled, and observed--

"You have no very strong inclination to join us, I perceive."

"Not any," frankly replied Euphrosyne. "I have no doubt the sisters are
very happy. They choose their way of life for themselves. I only feel
it is one that I should never choose. Nor would grandpapa for me, for
more than a short time. I hope, madam, you understand that we neither
of us think of my ever becoming a nun."

"I see that there is no present sign of its being your vocation."

"And there never will be," cried Euphrosyne, very earnestly. "I assure
you, I cannot bear the idea of it."

"So I perceive, my dear.