soul.  But, satisfied of her innate rectitude, and of that true and constant love, which even unkindness could not weaken, she left her innocence to vindicate itself, and made no farther attempt to penetrate the reserve which her husband had assumed, and which opposed a fatal barrier to returning harmony.  Experience in the world, or a thorough knowledge of your father’s peculiar disposition, might have suggested a different, and, perhaps, a more successful course.  But she judged and acted from the impulse of a sensitive and ardent mind, which had freely bestowed the whole treasure of its warm and generous affections, and could ill brook a return of such unmerited coldness and distrust.  Her conduct towards him was marked by the most unvarying sweetness, and a studious deference to his wishes; they, however, seldom met, but in a crowd; for she sought society with an eagerness, which seemed the result of choice, while it was, in reality, a vain attempt to relieve the restlessness and melancholy that oppressed her.  In public, her spirits were supported by an artificial excitement, and her gaiety seemed unimpaired; but, when alone with me, the constant companion of her solitary hours, and the sole confidant of her thoughts, she yielded to the most alarming depression.  Her health evidently suffered from this disordered state of mind; but she uttered no complaint, and from her husband, particularly, concealed every symptom of illness, and appeared with her accustomed cheerfulness.  Strange as it may seem, her gaiety chagrined him; he fancied her trifling with, or indifferent to, his happiness, and satisfied with the pleasures which courted her, without a wish for his participation.  He little knew,—­for his better feelings were warped by a morbid imagination,—­how gladly she would have exchanged every other blessing for one assurance of returning confidence and affection.

“Your mother’s spirits faintly revived, on the approach of spring.  She was weary of dissipation:  the glittering bubble, which at first charmed her eye, had burst, and betrayed its emptiness.  She had a mind which panted for the noblest attainments, a heart formed for the enjoyment of every pure and rational pursuit.  Her thoughts continually reverted to the first happy months of her union with De Courcy; and she impatiently anticipated the moment, when they should return to those quiet scenes; fondly believing that she might there recover her husband’s love, and that a new and most endearing tie would bind him more strongly to her.  These soothing hopes beguiled many an heavy hour; and, but for one fatal error, one deadly passion, they might have been fully realized!”

Madame de la Tour abruptly stopped, overcome by the painful recollections which crowded on her mind; Lucie looked at her with tearful eyes, but offered no remark; and both remained silent for several minutes.

CHAPTER XX.

    What deep wounds ever closed without a scar
    The heart’s bleed longest, and but heal to wear
    That which disfigures it; and they who war
    With their own hopes, and have been vanquish’d, bear
    Silence, but not submission.