e had brought from
Clisson. The identity being proved--

"My child," said she, "I leave you after supper."

"So soon!" said Helene, to whom Therese was now the only link to her
past life.

"Yes, my child. It is at my option to sleep here, but I prefer to return
at once; for I wish to be again at home, where the only thing wanting to
my happiness will be your presence."

Helene threw herself on Therese's neck, weeping. She recalled her youth,
passed so happily among affectionate companions, and she again saw the
towers and steeples of her former residence.

They sat down to table, and Sister Therese hastily partook of some
refreshment, then embraced Helene, who wished to accompany her to the
carriage; but Madame Desroches begged her not to do so, as the hotel
was full of strangers.

Helene then asked permission to see the poor gardener, who had been
their escort, once more. This man had become a friend to her, and she
quitted him and Therese sadly.

Madame Desroches, seeing that Helene felt vainly in her pocket, said,
"Does mademoiselle want anything?"

"Yes," said Helene; "I should wish to give a souvenir to this good man."

Madame Desroches gave Helene twenty-five louis, and she, without
counting them, slipped them into the gardener's hand, who overwhelmed
her with tears and thanks.

At length they were forced to part, and Helene, hearing the sound of
their carriage driving away, threw herself on a sofa, weeping.

Madame Desroches reminded her that she had eaten nothing. Helene
insisted that she should sup with her. After her meal she showed Helene
her bedroom, saying, "Will mademoiselle ring when she requires her
femme-de-chambre; for this evening mademoiselle will receive a visit."

"A visit!" cried Helene.

"Yes, mademoiselle; from a relation."

"And is it the one who watches over me?"

"From your birth, mademoiselle."

"Oh, mon Dieu!" cried Helene; "and he is coming?"

"He is most anxious to know you."

"Oh," murmured Helene; "I feel as if I should faint."

Madame Desroches ran to her, and supported her.

"Do you feel so much terror," asked she, "at seeing one who loves you?"

"It is not terror, it is agitation," said Helene. "I did not know that
it would be to-night; and this important news quite overcomes me."

"But I have not told you all: this person is necessarily surrounded by
mystery."

"Why so?"

"I am forbidden to reply to that question, mademoiselle."

"What necessity can