between these iron bars, and said to poor Maximilian, 'Take this hand, dearest Maximilian, and believe that, living or dead, I am yours yours only, and forever!'"
The poor girl made no reply, but her lover could plainly hear her sobs and tears. A rapid change took place in the young man's feelings.
"Dearest, dearest Valentine!" exclaimed he, "forgive me if I have offended you, and forget the words I spoke if they have unwittingly caused you pain."
"No, Maximilian, I am not offended," answered she; "but do you not see what a helpless being I am, almost a stranger and an outcast in my father's house, where even he is seldom seen; whose will has been broken, from the age of ten years, beneath the iron rod of my masters, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute; no person has observed my sufferings, nor have I ever breathed one word on the subject save to yourself. Outwardly and in the eyes of the world, I am surrounded by kindness and affection; but the reverse is the case. The general remark is, 'Oh, it cannot be expected that one of so stern a character as M. Villefort could lavish the tenderness some fathers do on their daughters. But she has had the happiness to find a second mother in Madame de Villefort.' The world, however, is mistaken; my father abandons me from utter indifference, while my step-mother detests me with a hatred so much the more terrible as it is veiled beneath a continual smile."
"Hate you, sweet Valentine!" exclaimed the young man; "how is it possible for any one to do that!"
"Alas!" replied the weeping girl, "I am obliged to own that her aversion to me arises from a very natural source her love for her own child, my brother Edward."
"But why should it?"
"Nay, I know not; but, though unwilling to introduce money matters into our conversation, I will just say thus much that her extreme dislike to me has its origin in mercenary motives; and I much fear she envies me the fortune I already enjoy in right of my mother, and which will be more than doubled at the death of M. and Mme. Meran, whose sole heiress I am. Alas! how gladly would I exchange the half of this wealth for the happiness of at least sharing my father's love, so that it would obtain me a happy and affectionate home."
"Poor Valentine!"
"I seem to myself as though living a life of bondage, yet at the same time am so conscious of my own weakness that I fear to break the restraint in which I am held, lest I fall utterly powerless and helpless. Then, too, my father is not a person whose orders may be infringed with impunity; protected as he is by his high position and firmly established
