her hands together); he is safe, he is secure."
"As I could wish," cried D'Alembert, with a malicious smile.
An idea of treachery having been practised upon her father as well as upon herself now started in the mind of Madeline, and her heart almost died away. "My father is safe!" she repeated, with a quivering lip, and a faltering voice.
"Yes—beneath this roof."
"Oh, God!" cried Madeline as she sunk upon the floor.
D'Alembert raised her, and used every method in his power to revive her: it was many minutes, however, ere she was able to stand or speak. At length, sinking from his arms—"Forgive me (she exclaimed, as she knelt at his feet), Oh! forgive me if I have said aught to offend you; make allowances for my wounded feelings, for my distress, my irritation at finding my-
