s wrong to confide my hopes to you. Do not
make me regret that I came here."

Then the sister tried another plan. She rose, forced her lips to smile,
and as if nothing unpleasant had passed between them, she begged Jean to
remain with her that evening, at least, and share her frugal supper.

"Remain," she entreated; "that is not much to do--and it will make me
so happy. And since it will be the last time we shall see each other
for years, grant me a few hours. It is so long since we have met. I
have suffered so much. I have so many things to tell you! Jean, my dear
brother, can it be that you love me no longer?"

One must have been bronze to remain insensible to such prayers. Jean
Lacheneur's heart swelled almost to bursting; his stern features
relaxed, and a tear trembled in his eye.

Marie-Anne saw that tear. She thought she had conquered, and clapping
her hands in delight, she exclaimed:

"Ah! you will remain! you will remain!"

No. Jean had already mastered his momentary weakness, though not without
a terrible effort; and in a harsh voice:

"Impossible! impossible!" he repeated.

Then, as his sister clung to him imploringly, he took her in his arms
and pressed her to his heart.

"Poor sister--poor Marie-Anne--you will never know what it costs me
to refuse you, to separate myself from you. But this must be. In
even coming here I have been guilty of an imprudent act. You do not
understand to what perils you will be exposed if people suspect any bond
between us. I trust you and Maurice may lead a calm and happy life. It
would be a crime for me to mix you up with my wild schemes. Think of me
sometimes, but do not try to see me, or even to learn what has become of
me. A man like me struggles, triumphs, or perishes alone."

He kissed Marie-Anne passionately, then lifted her, placed her in a
chair, and freed himself from her detaining hands.

"Adieu!" he cried; "when you see me again, our father will be avenged!"

She sprang up to rush after him and to call him back. Too late!

He had fled.

"It is over," murmured the wretched girl; "my brother is lost. Nothing
will restrain him now."

A vague, inexplicable, but horrible fear, contracted her heart. She felt
that she was being slowly but surely drawn into a whirlpool of passion,
rancor, vengeance, and crime, and a voice whispered that she would be
crushed.

But other thoughts soon replaced these gloomy presentiments.

One evening, while she was preparin