search of you! No one suspects you to
be here. Remain patiently where you are at present, and in the utmost
secrecy, or there will be a storm which may upset us both. Try to be
happy, and let not the sweetest eyes that were ever seen grow dim with
needless regrets. Better and brighter days will surely come. Meanwhile,
pray! pray, my Caroline! it will do you good, and perhaps make me more
worthy of the love which I know is wholly mine.

"Adieu, FRANCOIS."

Angelique devoured rather than read the letter. She had no sooner
perused it than she tore it up in a paroxysm of fury, scattering its
pieces like snowflakes over the floor, and stamping on them with her
firm foot as if she would tread them into annihilation.

Fanchon was not unaccustomed to exhibitions of feminine wrath; but she
was fairly frightened at the terrible rage that shook Angelique from
head to foot.

"Fanchon! did you read that letter?" demanded she, turning suddenly
upon the trembling maid. The girl saw her mistress's cheeks twitch with
passion, and her hands clench as if she would strike her if she answered
yes.

Shrinking with fear, Fanchon replied faintly, "No, my Lady; I cannot
read."

"And you have allowed no other person to read it?"

"No, my Lady; I was afraid to show the letter to any one; you know I
ought not to have taken it!"

"Was no inquiry made about it?" Angelique laid her hand upon the girl's
shoulder, who trembled from head to foot.

"Yes, my Lady; Dame Tremblay turned the Chateau upside down, looking for
it; but I dared not tell her I had it!"

"I think you speak truth, Fanchon!" replied Angelique, getting somewhat
over her passion; but her bosom still heaved, like the ocean after
a storm. "And now mind what I say!"--her hand pressed heavily on the
girl's shoulder, while she gave her a look that seemed to freeze
the very marrow in her bones. "You know a secret about the Lady of
Beaumanoir, Fanchon, and one about me too! If you ever speak of either
to man or woman, or even to yourself, I will cut the tongue out of your
mouth and nail it to that door-post! Mind my words, Fanchon! I never
fail to do what I threaten."

"Oh, only do not look so at me, my Lady!" replied poor Fanchon,
perspiring with fear. "I am sure I never shall speak of it. I swear by
our Blessed Lady of Ste. Foye! I will never breathe to mortal that I
gave you that letter."

"That will do!" replied Angelique, throwing herself down in her great
chair. "And