ng myself to be
drawn away by the remembrance of my past griefs!"

"I beseech you, my lord, make no apology to me; but, on the contrary,
believe that I most sincerely sympathise with your very natural regrets.
Have I not a right to share your griefs, for have I not made you a
participator in mine? My greatest pain is, that the only consolation I
could offer you would be vain and useless to assuage your grief."

"Not so; the very expression of your kind commiseration is grateful and
beneficial to me; and I find it a relief to disburden my mind, and tell
you all I suffer. But, courage!" added Rodolph, with a faint and
melancholy smile; "the conversation of this evening entirely reassures
me on your account. A safe and healthful path is opened to you, by
following which you will escape the trials and dangers so fatal to many
of your sex, and, still more so, for those as highly endowed as
yourself. You will have much to endure, to struggle against, and contend
with; but in proportion to the difficulties of your position will be
your merit in overcoming them. You are too young and lovely to escape
without a severe ordeal; but, should your courage ever fail you, the
recollection, not only of the good you have done, but also that you
propose to effect, will serve to strengthen your virtuous resolutions,
and arm you with fresh courage."

Madame d'Harville melted into tears.

"At least," said she, "promise me your counsels and advice shall never
fail me. May I depend on this, my lord?"

"Indeed, indeed, you may. Whether near or afar off, believe that I shall
ever feel the most lively interest in your welfare and well-doing; and,
so far as in me lies, will I devote my best services to promote your
happiness, or that of the man whom I glory in calling my dearest
friend."

"Thanks, my lord," said Clemence, drying her tears, "for this consoling
promise. But for your generous aid, I feel too well that my own strength
would fail me. Still I bind myself now, and in your presence,
faithfully and courageously to perform my duty, however hard or painful
that duty may be."

As Clemence uttered these last words, a small door, concealed by the
hangings, suddenly opened; and M. d'Harville, pale, agitated, and
evidently labouring under considerable excitement, appeared before
Madame d'Harville and Rodolph. The latter involuntarily started, while a
faint cry escaped the lips of the astonished wife.

The first surprise over, the marqui