urely thou dost not desire that by a public avowal
I should bring shame and disgrace on these children and on myself."

She rose calm and strengthened: it seemed as if a heavenly inspiration
had marked out her duty. To suffer in silence, such was the course she
adopted,--a life of sacrifice and self-denial which she offered to God as
an expiation for her involuntary sin. But who can understand the
workings of the human heart? This man whom she ought to have loathed,
this man who had made her an innocent partner in his crime, this unmasked
impostor whom she should have beheld only with disgust, she-loved him!
The force of habit, the ascendancy he had obtained over her, the love he
had shown her, a thousand sympathies felt in her inmost heart, all these
had so much influence, that, instead of accusing and cursing him, she
sought to excuse him on the plea of a passion to which, doubtless, he had
yielded when usurping the name and place of another. She feared
punishment for him yet more than disgrace for herself, and though
resolved to no longer allow him the rights purchased by crime, she yet
trembled at the idea of losing his love. It was this above all which
decided her to keep eternal silence about her discovery; one single word
which proved that his imposture was known would raise an insurmountable
barrier between them.

To conceal her trouble entirely was, however, beyond her power; her eyes
frequently showed traces of her secret tears. Martin several times asked
the cause of her sorrow; she tried to smile and excuse herself, only
immediately sinking back into her gloomy thoughts. Martin thought it mere
caprice; he observed her loss of colour, her hollow cheeks, and concluded
that age was impairing her beauty, and became less attentive to her. His
absences became longer and more frequent, and he did not conceal his
impatience and annoyance at being watched; for her looks hung upon his,
and she observed his coldness and change with much grief. Having
sacrificed all in order to retain his love, she now saw it slowly
slipping away from her.

Another person also observed attentively. Pierre Guerre since his
explanation with Bertrande had apparently discovered no more evidence,
and did not dare to bring an accusation without some positive proofs.
Consequently he lost no chance of watching the proceedings of his
supposed nephew, silently hoping that chance might put him on the track
of a discovery. He also concl