ing your suspicions, hoping that, in consequence of such a promise, you would no longer imagine I had any dreadful secrets to disclose.
"Exclusive of the misery I felt from conscious guilt, I felt a considerable portion also from reflecting on the distresses to which, in all probability, you would be exposed after my death, as I could not hope that the farm would then, under the superintendence of a less interested person, yield such profits as it had before done; and I knew the small remainder of your grandfather's wealth, which the monk had deposited in my hands, and which I had most carefully husbanded, would be quite inadequate to your support.
"From this uneasiness I was relieved by our blessed friend the Countess de Merville. I should previously have told you of her seeing your mother; the visit I paid her on my way to Montmorenci Castle, was discovered by her guardian, and awakened his apprehensions. He wished to unite her to his son; and, ignorant of my situation, he imagined I
