and admiration; she seemed not yet to have attained the prime of her days, and though the rose upon her cheek was pale, and the lustre of her fine blue eyes was fled, her countenance still retained an expression so animated, that language was scarcely necessary to develop her feelings.
She advanced to the middle of the hall; then paused, as if involuntarily, and casting a look around at the old domestics who were ranged on each side, exclaimed, in a tremulous voice, "Am I come too late? Have I arrived in time to receive the last blessing of my mother?"—The servants, instead of answering, hung their heads in mournful silence. Madeline, who had hitherto stood at a distance, pale and trembling, now stepped forward, followed by Father Bertrand; but the moment she had reached Madame D'Alembert, the fortitude she had struggled to assume forsook her; and dropping on her knees, she clasped her arms about her, and burst into tears.
