Marie, a moment distracted from the reading, directed her gaze to the guardian of her son, and looked at him a long time. By degrees, the young woman felt her eyes grow moist, her beautiful bosom palpitate suddenly, while a delicate blush mounted her snowy brow.
Just at this moment, David accidentally raised his eyes and met Marie's glance.
The young woman immediately cast her eyes down, and blushed scarlet.
Another time David was at the piano, accompanying Frederick and Marie, who were singing a duet; the young woman turned the page, just as David had the same intuition, and their hands met.
At this electric contact, she trembled, her blood rushed toward her heart, and a cloud passed before her eyes.
Notwithstanding these suggestive indications, the young mother slept that evening, pensive and dreamy, but full of calm and chaste serenity.
As always before, she kissed her son on the forehead, without blushing.
Thus passed the last fortnight of December.
Upon the eve of the new year, David, Marie, and her son were preparing to go out, in order to carry a few last remembrances to their dependents, when Marguerite handed her mistress a letter which the express had just brought.
At the sight of the handwriting, Marie could not hide her surprise and fear.