o the domestic, "No,
you need not announce me; I will go at once to the chamber of Madame de
Fleury."

At the sound of that voice, the shriek of joy that broke from Bertha's
lips drowned the amazed exclamation of Maurice. In another instant,
Bertha's arms were around the stranger, and her kisses were mingled with
tears and broken ejaculations, as she embraced her rapturously.

Maurice stood beside them, struggling with emotion that caused his manly
frame to vibrate from head to foot, while his dilated eyes appeared
spellbound by some familiar apparition which they hardly dared to
believe was palpable.

There is a joy which, in its wild excess, paralyzes the faculties, makes
dumb the voice, confuses the brain, until ecstasy becomes agony, and all
the senses are enveloped in a cloud of doubt. Such was the joy of
Maurice as he stood powerless, questioning the blissful reality of the
hour, yet in the actual presence of that being who was never a moment
absent from his mental vision.

"Madeleine! Madeleine! My own Madeleine! Have we found you at last? Is
it really you?" sobbed Bertha, whose tears always flowed easily, but now
poured in torrents from their blue heavens.

And Madeleine, as she passionately returned her cousin's embrace,
dropped her head upon Bertha's shoulder, and wept also.

"Madeleine!"

At that tremulously tender voice her face was lifted and turned toward
Maurice,--turned for the first time for nearly five long years; and yet,
at that moment, he felt as though it had never been turned away.

Bertha involuntarily loosened her arms, and Madeleine extended her hand
to Maurice. He clasped it fervently, but his quivering lips gave forth
no sound. One irrepressible look of perfect joy from Madeleine's
luminous eyes had answered the impassioned gaze of his; one smile of
ineffable gratitude played over her sweet lips. For an instant the eyes
were raised heavenward, in mute thanksgiving, and then sought the
ground, as though they feared to reveal too much; and the smile of
transport changed to one of grave serenity, and the wonted quietude of
her demeanor returned.

The countess and Count Tristan had both risen in speechless surprise,
but had made no attempt to approach Madeleine, whom Bertha now drew into
the room.

"Madeleine! I cannot believe that I am not dreaming," cried the latter;
"I cannot believe that I have found you!--that it is really you! And you
are lovelier than ever! You no longer look