"Come in then, and welcome."
Gaston accepted the invitation with alacrity. He took a seat, and, regarding her work, remarked, "This must be for to-night's ball; is it your own dress?"
"Mine? All these tucks for a dress of mine? No, indeed, it is Bertha's, and I hope she will like the toilet I have planned; each tuck will be surmounted by a garland of ivy, left open at the front, and fastened where it breaks off, on either side, with blush roses. Then among her luxuriant curls a few sprigs of ivy must float, and perhaps a rose peep out. You may expect to see her looking very beautiful to-night."
M. de Bois sighed, and remained silent for a moment. Then he resumed the conversation by asking, "And the dress will be ready in time?"
"Before it is needed, I trust, for it is now well advanced. Fortunately my aunt's dress was completed last night. But it was not new,—only a fresh combination of materials that had already been employed. Yet she was kind enough to be highly pleased."
"Well she might be! You are always wor—wor—working for the good of the whole family."
"What other return can I make for the good I have received?" replied Madeleine, with emotion. "Can I ever forget that, when I was left alone in the world, without refuge, without friends, almost without bread, my great-aunt extended to me her protection, supplied all my wants, virtually adopted me as her own child? Can I offer her too much gratitude in return? Can I lavish upon her too much love? No one knows how well I love her and all that is hers! How well I love that dwelling which received the homeless orphan! People call the old château dreary and gloomy; to me it is a palace; its very walls are dear. I love the trees that yield me their shade,—the parks that you no doubt think a wilderness,—the rough, unweeded walks which I tread daily in search of flowers,—this ruined summer-house, where I have passed hours of delicious calm,—all the now familiar objects that I first saw through my tears, before they were dried by the hand of affection; and I reflect with joy that probably I shall never quit the Heaven-provided home which has been granted me. I have been so very happy here."
"Real—eal—eally?" asked Gaston, doubtingly. "I fancied sometimes, when I saw the Countess and Count Tristan so—so—so severe to you, that"—
"Have they not the right to find fault with me when I fail to please them? That is only what I expect, and ought to bear patiently. I will not pretend to say that sometimes, when I have been misunderstood, and my best efforts have failed to bring about results that gratify them,—I will not say that my heart does not swell as though it would burst; but I console myself by reflecting that some far off, future day will come to make amends for all, and bring me full revenge."