edestal to which I
had found myself elevated. What if I should discover my daughter in one
from the touch of whose robe these holy women would recoil as from
the rags of a leper! No; it would be impossible for me to own
her--impossible for me to give her the shelter of my roof. Nay, if
discovered to hold any commune with such an outcast, no explanation, no
excuse short of the actual truth, would avail with these austere judges
of human error. And the actual truth would be yet deeper disgrace. I
reasoned away my conscience. If I looked for example in the circles
in which I had obtained reverential place, I could find no instance
in which a girl who had fallen from virtue was not repudiated by her
nearest relatives. Nay, when I thought of my own mother, had not her
father refused to see her, to acknowledge her child, from no other
offence than that of a misalliance which wounded the family pride? That
pride, alas! was in my blood--my sole inheritance from the family I
sprang from.

"Thus it went on, till I had grave symptoms of a disease which rendered
the duration of my life uncertain. My conscience awoke and tortured me.
I resolved to take the veil. Vanity and pride again! My resolution was
applauded by those whose opinion had so swayed my mind and my conduct.
Before I retired into the convent from which I write, I made legal
provision as to the bulk of the fortune which, by the death of M. Selby,
has become absolutely at my disposal. One thousand pounds amply sufficed
for dotation to the convent: the other four thousand pounds are given in
trust to the eminent notary, M. Nadaud, Rue -------. On applying to him,
you will find that the sum, with the accumulated interest, is bequeathed
to you,--a tribute of gratitude for the assistance you afforded me in
the time of your own need, and the kindness with which you acknowledged
our relationship and commiserated my misfortunes.

"But oh, my uncle, find out--a man can do so with a facility not
accorded to a woman--what has become of this poor Julie, and devote
what you may deem right and just of the sum thus bequeathed to place her
above want and temptation. In doing so, I know you will respect my name:
I would not have it dishonour you, indeed.

"I have been employed in writing this long letter since the day I heard
you were in Paris. It has exhausted the feeble remnants of my strength.
It will be given to you before the interview I at once dread and long
for, and in that