ould you ever
need means to carry out any enterprise (and you know, in this land, how
many offer themselves), I would claim the privilege of being your
banker, and joining in your undertaking as freely as if I were indeed
your sister."

"You, Madeleine? Can you imagine that I could force myself to consent to
this? You are already rich then?"

"I am becoming rich,--I have laid the foundation of wealth. But tell me
that you do not reject my sisterly regard, my devotion"--

"Would he whom you love permit this devotion?"

"Yes," answered Madeleine, smiling gravely.

"It would not render him wretched? It would not exasperate him?"
questioned Maurice.

"No."

"He is not jealous, then?"

"Yes, I fear he is,--very jealous; but not of _you_."

"And yet, he has cause," returned Maurice, with violence which he could
not control; "more cause than I trust he has of being jealous of any
other man; and there may be, _must_ be other men who aspire to love you.
Your position, Madeleine, must expose you, at times, to impertinence;
you must need protection."

"I have a talisman within which protects me ever," answered Madeleine.

"Ah, I know,--the love you bear _him_, my rival! Let us not speak of
him. I cannot endure it; let us ever banish him from our conversation."

"I did not mean to make you suffer," said Madeleine, soothingly.

Before he could reply, Victorine entered with a mysterious air. Her
countenance intimated that she had a matter of the utmost importance
upon her mind.

Habituated to some of the little, pleasant, and _supposed to be_
harmless customs of her own country, she could not comprehend that
Mademoiselle Melanie appeared to have no lovers, that she entertained no
gentleman in particular. M. de Bois was so openly her _friend_ that
mystery never attached itself to his visits. Mr. Hilson was a frequent
visitor, but he was a married man, whose wife and daughters were among
the most zealous of Mademoiselle Melanie's patrons. Victorine was always
on the _qui vive_ for the accession of a lover, as a necessary appendage
to one in Mademoiselle Melanie's position; and, at this moment, she felt
as though she had a clew to some intrigue.

Instead of speaking in an audible tone, she approached Madeleine, and
glancing dubiously at Maurice, said, in a whisper, "Mademoiselle, I have
something to communicate."

"What is it?" asked Madeleine, without the slightest embarrassment.

"A gentleman desires to see Madem