"Yes; and had I been a poor woman, without power, rank, or influence, my innocence would have been publicly declared. But having all these advantages, it suited my enemies' purpose to deprive me of them, so they banished me, and left me in the state in which I am!"
"Dear mistress!" said the old woman.
Marie Marianni hid her face in her handkerchief, and spoke no more during the remainder of the evening.
As the servant continued silently to turn her wheel, she revolved in her mind several circumstances connected with the "Old Nun." She had often surprised her reading parchments covered with seals of red wax, which, on Bridget's entrance, her mistress always hurriedly replaced in a small iron box.
One night Marie Marianni, while suffering from an attack of fever, cried out in a tone of unutterable horror: "No: I will not see him! Take away yon red robe—that man of blood and murder!"
These things troubled the simple mind of poor Bridget, yet she dared not speak of them to her usually haughty and reserved mistress.
On the next evening, as they were sitting silently at work, a knock was heard at the door.
"Who can it be at this hour?" said Marie Marianni.
"I can not think," replied her servant; "'tis now nine o'clock."
"Another knock! Go, Bridget, and see who it is, but open the door with precaution."