upted by the soughing of a high wind, which raged
without and shook the trees in the garden. A single candle lighted the
room, which was papered with dark green. That peculiar tint, and the
hunchback's black dress, increased her apparent paleness. Seated in an
arm-chair by the side of the fire, with her head resting upon her bosom,
her hands crossed upon her knees, the work-girl's countenance was
melancholy and resigned; on it was visible the austere satisfaction which
is felt by the consciousness of a duty well performed.

Like all those who, brought up in the merciless school of misfortune, no
longer exaggerate the sentiment of sorrow, too familiar and assiduous a
guest to be treated as a stranger, Mother Bunch was incapable of long
yielding to idle regrets and vain despair, with regard to what was
already past. Beyond doubt, the blow had been sudden, dreadful; doubtless
it must leave a long and painful remembrance in the sufferer's soul; but
it was soon to pass, as it were, into that chronic state of pain-durance,
which had become almost an integral part of her life. And then this noble
creature, so indulgent to fate, found still some consolations in the
intensity of her bitter pain. She had been deeply touched by the marks of
affection shown her by Angela, Agricola's intended: and she had felt a
species of pride of the heart, in perceiving with what blind confidence,
with what ineffable joy, the smith accepted the favorable presentiments
which seemed to consecrate his happiness. Mother Bunch also said to
herself: "At least, henceforth I shall not be agitated by hopes, or
rather by suppositions as ridiculous as they were senseless. Agricola's
marriage puts a term to all the miserable reveries of my poor head."

Finally, she found a real and deep consolation in the certainty that she
had been able to go through this terrible trial, and conceal from
Agricola the love she felt for him. We know how formidable to this
unfortunate being were those ideas of ridicule and shame, which she
believed would attach to the discovery of her mad passion. After having
remained for some time absorbed in thought, Mother Bunch rose, and
advanced slowly towards the desk.

"My only recompense," said she, as she prepared the materials for
writing, "will be to entrust the mute witness of my pains with this new
grief. I shall at least have kept the promise that I made to myself.
Believing, from the bottom of my soul, that this girl is able t