;
and yet, in all her dreams for the future, her imagination
never went beyond a repetition of it all--only for her father
she, perhaps, substituted Monsieur Horace: for Monsieur
Horace, we may be sure, was not forgotten, any more than her
promise to him; though, indeed, this last had been so long in
abeyance that she had ceased to think of it as likely to be
speedily fulfilled. She had almost come to regard it as one of
the many things referred to that somewhat vague period when
she should be grown up, and when, in some way--how she did not
know--she would be released from the convent and from Aunt
Therese, and be at liberty to come and go as she pleased. In
the meantime she had almost given up hoping for Monsieur
Horace's return. The time when she had last seen him and heard
from him already seemed so remote to her childish memory. No
one ever spoke to her about him, and he never wrote to her.
She did not for a moment think he had forgotten her; she had
too much confidence in him for that; but by degrees a notion,
vague at first, but gradually becoming a fixed idea destined
to have results, established itself in foolish little
Madelon's head, that he was waiting till he should hear from
her that his fortune was made before he would come back to
her. Madelon would get quite unhappy when she thought of this--
he must think her so faithless and forgetful, yet how could
she help it? That the promise had made as deep an impression
upon him as upon her she never doubted for a moment; and was
it not most possible, and even probable, that he was expecting
to hear of the result, perhaps even in want of this wonderful
fortune, on which he must be counting? It was a sad thought,
this, to our Madelon, but gradually it became a confirmed one
in her mind.

How long this state of things would have lasted--whether, with
the fading of childish impressions, present abiding influences
might have taken possession of her, whether, some few years
hence, some sudden development of her devotional tendencies
might have roused her latent powers of enthusiasm, and turned
them in a new direction just at the moment when youthful
ardour is most readily kindled, and tender, fervent hearts
most easily touched--whether, in such a case, our little
Madelon, inspired with new beliefs, would have renounced her
old life in the fervour of her acceptance of the new, and,
after all, have taken the nun's vows, and been content to
allow her native energy