day, and the announcement by Dame Tremblay
of the presence in the Chateau of one who was able to interpret dreams
seemed a stroke of fortune, if not an act of Providence.

She roused herself up, and with more animation than Dame Tremblay had
yet seen in her countenance, requested her to send up the visitor, that
she might ask her a question.

Mere Malheur was quickly summoned to the apartment of Caroline, where
Dame Tremblay left them alone.

The repulsive look of the old crone sent a shock through the fine,
nervous organization of the young girl. She requested Mere Malheur to
be seated, however, and in her gentle manner questioned her about the
dream.

Mere Malheur was an adept in such things, and knew well how to humor
human nature, and lead it to put its own interpretations upon its own
visions and desires while giving all the credit of it to herself.

Mere Malheur therefore interpreted the dream according to Caroline's
secret wishes. This inspired a sort of confidence, and Mere Malheur
seized the opportunity to deliver the letter from La Corriveau.

"My Lady," said she, looking carefully round the room to note if the
door was shut and no one was present, "I can tell you more than the
interpretation of your dream. I can tell who you are and why you are
here!"

Caroline started with a frightened look, and stared in the face of Mere
Malheur. She faltered out at length,--"You know who I am and why I am
here? Impossible! I never saw you before."

"No, my Lady, you never saw me before, but I will convince you that I
know you. You are the daughter of the Baron de St. Castin! Is it not
so?" The old crone looked frightfully knowing as she uttered these
words.

"Mother of mercies! what shall I do?" ejaculated the alarmed girl. "Who
are you to say that?"

"I am but a messenger, my Lady. Listen! I am sent here to give you
secretly this letter from a friend who knows you better than I, and who
above all things desires an interview with you, as she has things of the
deepest import to communicate."

"A letter! Oh, what mystery is all this? A letter for me! Is it from the
Intendant?"

"No, my Lady, it is from a woman." Caroline blushed and trembled as she
took it from the old crone.

A woman! It flashed upon the mind of Caroline that the letter was
important. She opened it with trembling fingers, anticipating she knew
not what direful tidings when her eyes ran over the clear handwriting.

La Corriveau had writte