h over you. You have heard me speak of him
often,--Maxime de Brevan. He knows my wishes. Whatever may happen,
consult him. Ah! I should leave more cheerfully if you would promise me
to trust this faithful friend, to listen to his advice, and to follow
his directions."

"I promise you, Daniel, I will obey him."

But a rustling of the dry leaves interrupted them.

They turned round. A man was cautiously approaching them.

"My father!" cried Henrietta.

And, pushing Daniel towards the gate, she begged him to flee.

To remain would only have been to risk a painful explanation, insults,
perhaps even a personal collision. Daniel understood that but too well.

"Farewell," he said to Henrietta, "farewell! Tomorrow you will receive a
letter from me."

And he escaped, but not so promptly that he should not have heard the
count's angry voice, as he said,--

"Ah, ah! Is this the virtuous young lady who dares to insult Miss
Sarah?"

As soon as Daniel had locked the door again, he listened for a moment,
hoping that he might hear something of importance. But he could only
make out a few indistinct exclamations, then nothing, nothing more.

It was all over now. He would have to sail without seeing Henrietta
again, without enjoying that bitter happiness of holding her once more
in his arms. And yet he had told her nothing of all he had to tell her;
he had not spoken to her of half his recommendations, nor given her a
thousandth part of his tender farewells.

How had they been surprised? How came it about that the count had stayed
at home, instead of hurrying off immediately after dinner, as was his
custom? Why should he have inquired after his daughter, he who generally
took no more trouble about her than if she had not existed?

"Ah, we have been betrayed!" thought the unhappy man.

By whom? By that unpleasant maid evidently, whom he had seen that
morning; by that very Clarissa in whom Henrietta put such confidence. If
that was so,--and it was but too probable,--to whom should he send his
letters hereafter? Here, again, he saw himself reduced to Maxime de
Brevan as the only one who could convey news from him to Henrietta. Ah!
he recognized but too clearly the execrable but most cunning policy of
Miss Brandon.

"The wretch!" he swore; "the infamous woman!"

Wrath, mad wrath, set his brains on fire. And he could do nothing
against that woman!

"But she does not stand alone!" he suddenly exclaimed. "There is a man
th