from this place!" And the next moment passion swept over him like
a flood, and carried away all his virtuous resolves. His soul was in
deep waters; great waves drove it to and fro. Perilous condition,
which seldom ends well. Camille was a man of honor. In no other earthly
circumstance could he have hesitated an instant between right and
wrong. But such natures, proof against all other temptations, have often
fallen, and will fall, where sin takes the angel form of her they love.
Yet, of all men, they should pray for help to stand; for when they fall
they still retain one thing that divides them from mean sinners.

Remorse, the giant that rends the great hearts which mock at fear.

The day came in which the doctor had promised his patient he should come
down-stairs. First his comfortable sofa was taken down into the saloon
for his use: then the patient himself came down leaning on the doctor's
arm, and his heart palpitating at the thought of the meeting. He came
into the room; the baroness was alone. She greeted him kindly,
and welcomed him. Rose came in soon after and did the same. But no
Josephine. Camille felt sick at heart. At last dinner was announced;
"She will surely join us at dinner," thought he. He cast his eyes
anxiously on the table; the napkins were laid for four only. The
baroness carelessly explained this to him as they sat down. "Madame
Raynal dines in her own room. I am sorry to say she is indisposed."

Camille muttered polite regrets: the rage of disappointment drove its
fangs into him, and then came the heart-sickness of hope deferred.
The next day he saw her, but could not get a word with her alone. The
baroness tortured him another way. She was full of Raynal. She loved
him. She called him her son; was never weary of descanting on his
virtues to Camille. Not a day passed that she did not pester Camille to
make a calculation as to the probable period of his return, and he was
obliged to answer her. She related to him before Josephine and Rose, how
this honest soldier had come to them like a guardian angel and saved the
whole family. In vain he muttered that Rose had told him.

"Let me have the pleasure of telling it you my way," cried she, and told
it diffusely, and kept him writhing.

The next thing was, Josephine had received no letter from him this
month; the first month he had missed. In vain did Rose represent that
he was only a few days over his time. The baroness became anxious,
communicate