would pierce into the very recesses of her soul.
"The horrible mystery then (said she) is explained;—Monsieur D'Alembert—the chapel—"
"Ha! (cried Agatha, starting from her chair and shaking off the hand of Madeline) what do you say? Beware, beware, Mademoiselle of what you utter; beware (with a dark frown) even of what you think. I know what you would have said, I know what you have imagined, but—"
"But I am not mistaken," said Madeline, in a hollow voice, and sinking against the back of the chair.
"You are; (exclaimed Agatha) you have done injustice to Monsieur D'Alembert."
"Heaven be praised, (cried Madeline, clasping her hands together) heaven be praised; had I continued much longer to believe the idea I formed of him a just one, I think I could not have preserved my reason."
