ion," said she, extending her hand towards her husband,
which he warmly and tenderly pressed, "that you promise to aid me in all
my schemes for promoting and securing your happiness!"

"Upon my word, my dear marquis," exclaimed Rodolph, "our enemies have
shown themselves bunglers after all! They have afforded you an
opportunity you might never otherwise have obtained, of rightly
appreciating the tender devotion of your incomparable wife, whose
affection for you, I venture to say, has shone out more brightly and
steadily under the machinations of those who seek to render us
miserable, than amidst all the former part of your wedded life; so that
we are enabled to take a sweet revenge for the mischief intended to be
effected: that is some consolation, while awaiting a fuller atonement
for this diabolical attempt. I strongly suspect the quarter from which
this scheme has emanated; and however patiently I may bear my own
wrongs, I am not of a nature to suffer those offered to my friends to
remain unpunished. This, however, is my affair. Adieu, madame,--our
intrigue is discovered; and you will be no more at liberty to work alone
in befriending your protegees. But, never mind! Before long we will get
up some mysterious enterprise, impossible to be found out; and we will
even defy the marquis, with all his penetration, to know more than we
choose to tell him."

* * * * *

After accompanying Rodolph to his carriage with reiterated thanks and
praises, the marquis retired to his apartments without again seeing
Clemence.

CHAPTER VII.

REFLECTIONS.

It would be difficult to describe the tumultuous and opposing sentiments
that agitated M. d'Harville when alone. He reflected with delight on the
detection of the unworthy falsehood charged upon Rodolph and Clemence;
but he was, at the same time, thoroughly convinced that he must for ever
forego the hope of being loved by her. The more Clemence had proved
herself, in her conversation with Rodolph, resigned, full of courage,
and bent on acting rightly, the more bitterly did M. d'Harville reproach
himself for having, in his culpable egotism, chained the lot of his
unhappy young wife to his own. Far from being consoled by the
conversation he had overheard, he fell into a train of sorrowful thought
and indescribable anguish.

Riches, without occupation, bring with them this wretchedness. Nothing
can divert it, nothing relieve it, from the deep