"She threw herself in my arms, and thanked me," said Solange. "For more than an hour she spoke of her great affection for you, which time had augmented instead of diminishing. She wept for your misfortune, and thanked God that her parents had acted so well, as by that act they had given her a brother; and never did I see her so gentle, tender, and kind. She made me promise I would never tell you that she knew your secret; but the poor child did not then foresee the necessity that compels me to speak to-night on account of your wicked thoughts."
"Dear, dear Jeannette!" said Jean-Louis, with tears in his eyes.
"I have heard lately," continued Solange, "that she came near sending off Isidore, because he presumed, thinking she knew nothing, to make some allusion to the subject. She declared that she considered you her brother, and those who wished to be friends of hers must think the same."
"Say no more," said Jeannet. "I will love her more than ever."
"No," replied she, "it is useless. Only don't despair. Take courage, for there is always hope when the heart is good; and the moment this poor child, who is now acting without reflection, will know she should despise Isidore, she will dismiss him and drive him away as she would a dangerous animal."
"But will she ever know it?" said Jean-Louis.
"Hope in God," replied the pious girl. "Has he ever yet abandoned you?"
"Beg him to make me as confident as you," said he, looking at her with admiration. "What good you do me! How can I repay you, Solange, for such kind words?"
"Perhaps," said she seriously—"perhaps, one day, I may ask you to do me a great service."
"Really! Let me know it now. I will be so happy to serve you."