dreadful fate, though he rejoiced to see her safe: the Marchioness and Matilda ran to raise him. "Welcome, my good Joseph, (said the former) you are come on a happy day." "My dear friend, (said the latter, pressing his hand) do not give way to grief; we have all our sorrows, but we have our pleasures too, and I have news for you, Joseph. Our good lady is alive, and safe from the power of her enemies." "Heaven be thanked, (said the old man, wiping his eyes) this is blessed news indeed; and to see you safe too, my dear young madam, makes me happy, though I can't forget poor Bertha: alas, your ladyship, she was a good and faithful wife; she knew nothing about my lady—poor soul, she kept no secrets from me." He seemed to feel a reproach for his secrecy.
"My honest friend, (said the Marquis) your kindness and fidelity to our dear sister deserves reward: in this house you may rest free from care the remainder of your days, and I will settle two hundred livres on you yearly besides."
Joseph again dropped on his knees, "God bless your honour! God bless the dear ladies!" And he hurried out of the room, tears of thankfulness running down his cheeks.
"Good creature! (cried Matilda, wiping her eyes) may the rest of your life be peaceful and happy."
They now again recurred to the subject of the Countess and her letter. The Marchioness expressed her wishes to set off with all possible expedition to England, and within ten days it was fixed they should depart. Matilda heard this determination with a sigh, which did not pass unobserved, though they forbore to notice it; they concluded however she should be left to herself until the next morning, that their opinions might not appear to influence her. For herself, the idea of her obscure birth was a severe mortification; she considered her friends de Bouville and de Bancre as so much her superiors, that she could no longer treat them with that easy familiarity
