titude you owe me. I forbid you in the name of all
the kindnesses I have lavished upon you!"

"And do you not see, my aunt, it is because I would still be grateful
for these kindnesses that I would go hence? From the moment I learned I
was a burden to you, that my presence here was unwelcome, this was no
longer my home. If I leave you now, the memory of your goodness only,
will dwell in my heart. If I were to remain longer, each day my presence
would become more intolerable to you; each day your words and looks
would grow colder and harsher; each day I should feel more degraded in
my own eyes. _You_ would spoil your own benefactions: _I_ perhaps, might
forget them, and be stained with the crime of ingratitude. No, let us
now part,--now, while I may still dare to hope that you will think of me
with tenderness and regret,--now, while I can yet cherish the
recollection of the happy days I have passed beneath your roof. My
resolution is taken: it is unalterable. I could not rest here. You will,
perhaps, accord me a few days to make needful preparations; then I must
bid you farewell."

She turned to quit the room, but encountered Maurice and Bertha, who had
entered in time to hear the last sentence.

Bertha, on leaving her cousin, had sought Maurice and told him of
Madeleine's prostrating sorrow. They hastened back to the _chalet_
together, but she had disappeared. They were in search of her when they
entered the library.

"Bid us farewell, Madeleine?" cried Bertha. "What do you mean? Where are
you going? Surely you will never leave us?"

"I must."

"But my aunt will not let you; Cousin Tristan will not let you; Maurice
will not let you. Speak to her, some of you, and say that she shall not
go."

"Bertha," answered the count, "you do not know all the circumstances
which have caused Madeleine to form this resolution; and, if my mother
will pardon me for differing with her, I must say, frankly, that I
approve of the course Madeleine has chosen. I honor her for it. I think
she acts wisely in remaining here no longer!"

Then Maurice came forward boldly, and placing himself beside Madeleine,
with an air of manly protection, spoke out,--

"And _I_ agree with you, my father. I honor Madeleine for her
resolution. I think she acts wisely in remaining here no longer."

"O Maurice, Maurice! how can you speak so? Don't let her go, unless you
want to make me miserable!" pleaded Bertha.

Madeleine's hueless face was overspre