and I told her all my grief. She
dealt very tenderly with me, my Adele. She did not seek to cheer me by
inspiring fresh hopes of your father's return. No. She told me, I
might never be Claude Dubois's happy bride, but that I might be the
blessed bride of Jesus. In short, she led me gently into the
consolations of our Holy Church. Under her influence and guidance I
came into a state of sweet resignation to the divine will,--a peaceful
rest indeed, after the terrible alternations of suspense and despair
I had suffered. But, my Adele, it was only by constant prayers to the
blessed _Marie_ that my soul was kept from lapsing into its former
state of dreadful unrest. _Ma chere_ Adele, you know not what you do,
when you speak slightingly of our Holy Church. I should then have
died, had I not found rest in my prayers to the blessed mother. Now,
you are young and gay, but the world is full of sorrow. It may
overtake you as it did me. Then you will need a hope, a consolation, a
refuge. There is no peace like that found at the foot of the cross,
imploring the intercession of the compassionate, loving _Marie_. Do
not wander away from the sweet eyes of the mother of Christ, _ma
fille_".

Here Mrs. Dubois ceased speaking, and turned a tearful, affectionate
gaze upon her daughter. Adele's eyes, that had been fixed upon her
mother with earnest, absorbed attention, filled with tears, instantly.

"_Ma chere mere_, I would not make you unhappy. I will try not to give
you pain. Please go on and tell me all".

"_Eh! bien! ma chere_, my uncle was pleased to see me becoming more
peaceful. Finding I was not attracted by the pleasures of the gay
city, he proposed our return to the chateau, and begged the Countess
de Morny to accompany us. At my urgent request, she consented.

"On the day of our arrival, the Countess weary with the journey, having
gone to her own apartments, I went to stroll in the beautiful, beloved
park. It was June,--that month so full of leaves, flowers, birds, and
balmy summer winds. I sat at the foot of an old beech-tree, leaning
my head against its huge trunk, listening to the flow of the river,
indulging in dangerous reverie,--dangerous certainly to my peace of
mind. Suddenly, I was startled by the sound of footsteps. Before I
could collect my scattered senses, your father stood before me.
'_Marie_,' he said, '_Marie_.'

"For one moment, I met his earnest, questioning gaze, and then rushed
into his open arms. In s