Count Tristan, on reaching Madeleine's residence was ushered into her boudoir. He found her reclining upon the sofa, with a book in her hand. She had not entirely recovered from her indisposition, and wisely thought that one of the most effectual modes of battling against illness was to divert the mind: an invaluable medicine, too little in vogue among the suffering, yet calculated to produce marvellous amelioration of physical pain. As all matter exists from, and is influenced by, spiritual causes, the happy workings of this mental ministry are very comprehensible. Madeleine invariably found medicinal and restorative properties in the pages of an interesting and healthful-toned volume which would draw her out of the contemplation of her own ailments. She had trained herself, when the prostration of her faculties or other circumstances rendered it impossible for her to read, to lie still and reflect upon all the blessings that were accorded to her, to count them over, one by one, and compel herself to estimate each at its full value. In this manner she successfully counteracted the depression and unrest that attend bodily disease, and often succeeded in lifting her mind so far above its disordered mortal medium that she was hardly conscious of suffering, which was nevertheless very real. Sceptical reader! you smile in doubt, and think that if Madeleine's wisdom and patience could accomplish this feat, she was a rare instance of womanhood. Try her experiment faithfully and then decide!
Madeleine only partially rose when Count Tristan entered.
"My dear niece,—my dearest Madeleine,—I hope you are not ill?"
Although the count spoke with an air of exaggerated affection, his manner was far more self-possessed than when he left the hotel. The fresh air had revived him. Madeleine was not struck by any singularity in his deportment.
"Not exactly ill, yet not quite well," she answered, without pretending to respond to his oppressive tenderness; "and I was trying to forget myself."
"That was always your way, Madeleine; you are always forgetting yourself and remembering others. I always said so. I always appreciated your beautiful traits. The time has come when your whole family will appreciate them, and rejoice that you are restored to us. My mother is in a very different frame of mind to day; you must forget all that took place yesterday. You must forgive the past, and accept the hand of reconciliation which she extends to you."
"Is it possible that the Countess de Gramont has charged you to say this for her?"
"This, and a great deal more. She opens her arms to you; hereafter you two are to be as mother and daughter."
Count Tristan spoke with so much earnestness, that probably he had succeeded in believing his own liberally invented statements.
"It seems very strange," returned Madeleine; "yet I thank the countess for her unlooked-for cordiality. I do not know what good angel has opened her heart to me; but I am grateful if she will give me a place there."