in the pleached
walk, she knew was only the shadow and projection of her own thoughts, a
brooding fancy which she had unconsciously conjured up into the form of
her hated rival. The addition of the child was the creation of the deep
and jealous imaginings which had often crossed her mind. She thought of
that yet unborn pledge of a once mutual affection as the secret spell by
which Caroline, pale and feeble as she was, still held the heart of the
Intendant in some sort of allegiance.

"It is that vile, weak thing!" said she bitterly and angrily to herself,
"which is stronger than I. It is by that she excites his pity, and pity
draws after it the renewal of his love. If the hope of what is not yet
be so potent with Bigot, what will not the reality prove ere long? The
annihilation of all my brilliant anticipations! I have drawn a blank in
life's lottery, by the rejection of Le Gardeur for his sake! It is the
hand of that shadowy babe which plucks away the words of proposal from
the lips of Bigot, which gives his love to its vile mother, and leaves
to me the mere ashes of his passion, words which mean nothing, which
will never mean anything but insult to Angelique des Meloises, so long
as that woman lives to claim the hand which but for her would be mine!"

Dark fancies fluttered across the mind of Angelique during the absence
of the Intendant. They came like a flight of birds of evil omen, ravens,
choughs, and owls, the embodiments of wicked thoughts. But such thoughts
suited her mood, and she neither chid nor banished them, but let them
light and brood, and hatch fresh mischief in her soul.

She looked up to see who was laughing so merrily while she was so angry
and so sad, and beheld the Intendant jesting and toying with a cluster
of laughing girls who had caught him at the turn of the broad stair of
the terrace. They kept him there in utter oblivion of Angelique! Not
that she cared for his presence at that moment, or felt angry, as she
would have done at a neglect of Le Gardeur, but it was one proof among a
thousand others that, gallant and gay as he was among the throng of fair
guests who were flattering and tempting him on every side, not one
of them, herself included, could feel sure she had made an impression
lasting longer than the present moment upon the heart of the Intendant.

But Bigot had neither forgotten Angelique nor himself. His wily spirit
was contriving how best to give an impetus to his intrigue with