"And what do I not owe her, myself?" continued M. de Bois. "It was her words, long before her sorrows began, which rendered me conscious of the inert purposelessness of my own existence. It was the effect produced upon me by those words which made me resolve to throw off my sluggish, indolent melancholy and inactivity, and rise up to be one of the world's 'doers,' not 'breathers' only. The change I feel in myself came through her; even the very power of speaking to you thus freely comes through her, for she encouraged me to conquer my diffidence, she made me despise my weak self-consciousness, and I cannot offer her a sufficient return; no, not if I took up arms against the whole world, her own family included, in her defence! In my presence, no one shall ever asperse her nobility of word, deed, or act!"
Bertha's speaking eyes thanked him and encouraged him again.
In spite of the manifest rage of the countess he went on,—
"But Mademoiselle Madeleine now holds a position which needs no champion. She has made that position herself, by her own energy and industry, and the unimpeachable purity of her conduct. In this land where labor is a virtue, and the most laborious, when they combine intellect with industry, become the greatest,—in this land it will be no blot upon her noble name, (when she chooses to resume it) that she has linked that name with work. She will rather be held up as an example to the daughters of this young country. No one, except Mr. Hilson, not even her zealous patron, and devoted admirer, Madame de Fleury, yet knows her history; but every one feels that she merits reverence, and every one yields her spontaneous veneration. The young women whom she employs idolize her, and she treats them as the kindest and most considerate of sisters might. Some among them belong to excellent families, reduced by circumstances, and she has inspired them with courage to work, even with so humble an instrument as the needle, rather than to accept dependence as inevitable. She is fitting them to follow in her footsteps. If her relatives scorn her for the course she has pursued, she will be fully compensated for their scorn by the world's approval."
All eyes had been riveted upon Gaston, as he spoke, and no one perceived that Madeleine was standing in the room, a few paces from the door. Bertha's exclamation first made the others conscious of her presence.
"Madeleine! we know all! Oh, what you must have suffered! How noble you have been! Madeleine, you are dearer to me than ever, far dearer!"
The tears that ran softly down Madeleine's cheeks were her only answer.
Bertha, as she wiped them away, said, "These are not like the tears you shed that sorrowful day in the châlet, that day when you must have first made up your mind to leave us. Do you remember how you wept then? Those were tears of agony! You have never wept such tears since,—have you, Madeleine?"
"No, never!"
"I could not then comprehend what moved you so terribly; but, at this moment, I understand all your sensations. Now that we have met again there must be no more tears. You know that I am of age now; I am mistress of my own fortune; and you and I must part no more! You must come and share what is mine. You must have done with work, Madeleine."