rror. Your
brother, for such I presume he is, I admire very much. He is very
different from the officers of the French army in general, quite
subdued, and very courteous, and there is a kind spirit in all he says,
which makes me like him more. You have no idea of the feeling he
showed, when he talked about you--that is, if it is you--which I cannot
but feel almost certain that it is. One observation of his, I think it
right to make known to you, which is, that he told me that since your
supposed death, your father had never held up his head; indeed, he said
that he had never seen him smile since."

The above extract from Lionel's letter created such a revulsion, that I
was obliged to retire to my chamber to conceal my agitated feelings from
Madame Gironac. I wept bitterly for some time. I thought of what my
poor father must have suffered, and the regrets of poor Auguste at my
supposed death; and I doubted whether I was justified in the act I had
committed, by the treatment I had received from my mother. If she had
caused me so much pain, was I right in having given so much to others
who loved me? My poor father, he had never smiled since! Should I
permit him to wear out his days in sorrowing for my loss--oh, no! I no
longer felt any animosity against others who had ill-treated me.
Surely, I could forgive even my mother, if not for love of her, at all
events for love of my father and my brother. Yes, I would do so, I was
now independent of my mother and all the family. I had nothing to fear
from her; I could assist my family, if they required it.

Such were my first feelings--but then came doubts and fears. Could not
my mother claim me? insist upon my living with her? prevent my earning
my livelihood? or if I did employ myself, could she not take from me all
my earnings? Yes, by the law of France, I thought she could. Then
again, would she forgive me the three years of remorse? the three years
during which she had been under the stigma of having, by her barbarity,
caused her child to commit self-destruction? the three years of reproach
which she must have experienced from my father's clouded brow? Would
she ever forgive me for having obtained my independence by the very
talents which she would not allow me to cultivate? No, never, unless
her heart was changed.

After many hours of reflection, I resolved that I would make known my
existence to Auguste, and permit him to acquaint my father, under a
prom