eared to be inexhaustible.

Madeleine had given orders that Ruth and Mrs. Lawkins should commence
their watch at five o'clock; but she could hardly believe that hour had
arrived when the housekeeper entered, followed by Ruth. Maurice declared
that he was not in the slightest degree fatigued, or sleepy, and did not
need rest; but Madeleine, with smiling imperativeness, ordered him to
bed; and certainly Maurice, when he obeyed, slept remarkably sound for a
man who was not in the least fatigued or sleepy, and who was inclined to
battle against sleep because he could not bear to lose the consciousness
of being beneath the same roof as the one so long loved, so long and
vainly sought; and because it was a joy inexpressible to lie still and
think over all the words she had just uttered, and to picture her face
until it seemed actually before him. Yet, in spite of this delightful
occupation, inexorable sleep would suddenly fling her mantle over his
senses, and even refused to grant him the happiness of continuing his
blissful dreams in her own realm.

Maurice sought his grandmother the next morning, at the usual hour, and
carried her the tidings that Count Tristan moved his limbs more freely,
and that he had even spoken several words which could be comprehended.
She gave no sign of preparing to accompany her grandson, and, after
waiting awhile, he asked,--

"Will you and Bertha be ready soon? It is later than usual."

"I shall not go," replied the countess slowly, and as though it cost her
a great effort to force out the words.

Maurice made no remonstrance; he well knew that to endeavor to alter a
resolution of hers would be a fruitless attempt.

"And you, Bertha?" he inquired.

Bertha looked toward the countess: "Perhaps you would not like me to
leave you?"

"_All leave me!_" she almost groaned out. "Why not you?"

"I will stay with my aunt," replied Bertha, without hesitation.

And she remained all day beside the afflicted, but ever haughty,
countess. They did not converse, for the latter rarely spoke, even in
answer to Bertha's questions, and Bertha could invent no mode of
arousing and amusing her.

M. de Bois, not finding Bertha at Madeleine's, came to the hotel; but
his presence was obviously very distasteful to the countess. She did not
withdraw, she would have suffered martyrdom (as she did) rather than
commit the impropriety of leaving Bertha alone with her lover; but she
sat with knitted brows, her stony