en years are but a day in heaven
and hell? Yes, in hell--they may be long for suffering; but they are
short for revenge. The cruel master, who saw one slave faint under the
lash, and let another die in the stocks, and tore the husband from the
wife, and the child from the mother, might escape for the time with the
destruction of his family, punished for his sake:--he might live safely
in the midst of the city, for the ten years you speak of; but, let him
venture out for a single day--let him but drive to his own estate and
back again, and grey as his head is, he is shot in his own carriage, as
soon as it is dark."

Before the abbess could anticipate what was coming, the words were out.
Before she could make a sign, Euphrosyne had rushed from the room.

It was not long before the abbess entered the chamber of her charge.
She found her stretched on the bed, not weeping, but shuddering with
horror.

"My daughter," said she, "I grieve that this trial should have come upon
you already. If one could have foreseen--"

"But, madam, is it true? She meant _him_, I know. Tell me faithfully,
is it true?"

"It is, my daughter."

"What, all? Every one of those things?"

"All true. Perhaps it is well that you should know it, that the
departed may have the benefit of your prayers. But how differently
would I have had you told!"

"Never mind that! Whatever is true, I can and will bear. I will pray
for him, madam, day and night--as long as I live will I pray for him:
for he was to me--Oh, madam, how he loved me! I will make reparation
for him; the reparation that he would make if he could. I will find out
who were the poor creatures--I will make them happy for as long as they
live, for his sake. You will help me, madam?"

"I will. It is a pious intention."

"I owe him all that I can do. I ask one favour of you, madam. Let no
one speak to me about him--never again. No one can understand what he
was to me--what care he took of me--how he used to love me. Oh, madam,
is it quite certain--are you quite sure that those things are true?"

"My child, do not give me the pain of explaining more. As you say, let
this never again be spoken of.--I propose to you, Euphrosyne, to make a
virtuous effort."

"Not to come down this evening, madam?"

"Yes, my child, to come down this evening. I think it of importance
that Madame Oge should not discover how she has wounded you, and that
nothing should occur to fix her att