gesture to madame, and proceeded, "I had unfortunately, by a little mistake—"
"None of your 'unfortunately's' and 'mistakes;' tell a plain story,"
"Mon Dieu! I had worn madame's cape to one society, and torn it unfor—ah, mon Dieu!— waltzing—and—and—merci, monsieur! my head is in one such confusion."
"Tell the truth, that will unsnarl it."
Adéle, finding there was no use in attempting to weave any sort of self-defence or exculpation into her relation, proceeded to confess, that, partly to guard against the communication of Lucy's detection of the laudanum, and partly to conceal her abuse of the cape from her mistress, she had stolen Lucy's key while she slept, and deposited the cape in her trunk. "I was sure of it!" cried Ophelia, hardly able to restrain herself till Adéle had finished, "I told you so, mamma."
"And anybody might have told you so," said Hartell, too much exasperated at his wife's folly to keep any terms, even in the presence of his daughter; "anybody that had common sense might have known that this good girl was innocent, and that tawdry piece of French trumpery was fit for just such a piece of iniquity."
"That's always the way," said Mrs. Hartell, half crying and half indignant; "if there is anything the matter with the servants, the fault is always laid on my shoulders."
"And, in Heaven's name, on whose shoulders should it be laid if not on yours? When you took upon yourself to be the mistress of a family, you assumed responsibility; you virtually promised such
