wn money, always invested it in the most hazardous schemes,
and was always so successful, that at the end of fifteen years the ten
thousand francs had become half a million.

People were right when they said that the Fauvel family were to be
envied.

Time had dulled the remorse and anxiety of Valentine. In the
genial atmosphere of a happy home, she had found rest, and almost
forgetfulness. She had suffered so much at being compelled to deceive
Andre that she hoped she was now at quits with fate.

She began to look forward to the future, and her youth seemed buried
in an impenetrable mist, and was, as it were, the memory of a painful
dream.

Yes, she believed herself saved, and her very feeling of security made
the impending danger more fearful in its shock.

One rainy November day, her husband had gone to Provence on business.
She was sitting, gazing into the bright fire, and thankfully meditating
upon her present happiness, when the servant brought her a letter, which
had been left by a stranger, who refused to give his name.

Without the faintest presentiment of evil, she carelessly broke the
seal, and in an instant was almost petrified by the words which met her
terrified eye:

"MADAME--Would it be relying too much upon the memories of the past to
hope for half an hour of your time?

"To-morrow, between two and three, I will do myself the honor of calling
upon you.

"THE MARQUIS OF CLAMERAN."

Fortunately, Mme. Fauvel was alone.

Trembling like a leaf, she read the letter over and over again, as if
to convince herself that she was not the victim of a horrible
hallucination.

Half a dozen times, with a sort of terror, she whispered that name once
so dear--Clameran! spelling it aloud as if it were a strange name which
she could not pronounce. And the eight letters forming the name seemed
to shine like the lightning which precedes a clap of thunder.

Ah! she had hoped and believed that the fatal past was atoned for,
and buried in oblivion; and now it stood before her, pitiless and
threatening.

Poor woman! As if all human will could prevent what was fated to be!

It was in this hour of security, when she imagined herself pardoned,
that the storm was to burst upon the fragile edifice of her happiness,
and destroy her every hope.

A long time passed before she could collect her scattered thoughts
sufficiently to decide upon a course of conduct.

Then she began to think she was foolish to be so f