Father Bertrand approached Madeline, who still lay, with her face covered, upon the bed; he took her hand, and entreated her to rise, but she had neither power to refuse nor to obey. Perceiving her situation, he ordered her to be taken up, and carried into the next room; he was shocked beyond expression at the alteration which grief had effected in her appearance; her cheek and lips had lost all tinge of colour, and her eyes appeared too dim for her to distinguish any object.
Restoratives were administered to her, and by degrees the tears, which extreme agony had suspended, again began flowing, and somewhat relieved her.
Father Bertrand sat by her in silence; he knew the tribute of affection and sorrow must be paid, nor did he attempt to check it, till the first transports of the latter, by indulgence, were a little abated. He then addressed her in the mildest accents of consolation:—
