"Very good," said Brulette, who had recovered all her native pride, "I see more plainly than ever that you are in love with him and jealous; and I feel all the more satisfied to go away and leave him to your care. That your attachment to him is honest and faithful I have no doubt; and I have no reasons, such as you have, to be angry or unjust. Still I do wonder why you should want me to remain and to be your friend. Your sincerity gives way there, and I admit that I should like to know the reason why." "The reason," replied Thérence, "is one you give yourself, when you use shameful words to humiliate me. You have just said that I am lovesick and jealous: that's how you explain the strength and the kindness of my feeling for Joseph! you will, no doubt, put it into his head, and the young man, who owes me respect and gratitude, will think he has the right to despise me, and ridicule me in his heart." "There you are right, Thérence," said Brulette, whose heart and mind were both too just not to respect the pride of the woodland girl. "I ought to help you to keep your secret, and I will. I don't say that I will help you to the extent of my power over Joseph; your pride would take offence if I did, and I fully understand that you do not want to receive his regard as a favor from me. But I beg you to be just, to reflect, and even to give me some good advice, which I, who am weaker and more humble than you, ask of you to guide my conscience." "Ask it; I will listen to you," said Thérence, pacified by Brulette's good sense and submission. "You must first know," said the latter, "that I have never had any love for Joseph; and if it will help you, I will tell you why." "Tell me; I want to know!" cried Thérence. "Well, the reason is," continued Brulette, "that he does not love me as I should wish to be loved. I have known Joseph from a baby; he was never amiable to others until he came to live here; he was so wrapped up in himself that I considered him selfish. I am now willing to believe that if he was so it was not in a bad sense; but after the conversation which he and I had together yesterday I am still convinced that I have a rival in his heart that would soon crush me if I were his. This mistress whom he would surely prefer to his wife--don't deceive yourself, Thérence--is music." "I have sometimes thought that very thing," replied Thérence, after reflecting a moment, and showing by her soothed manner that she would rather struggle with music for Joseph's heart, than with the pretty Brulette. "Joseph," she added, "is often in a state in which I have sometimes seen my father,--when the pleasure of making music is so great that they are not conscious of anything about them; but my father is always so loving and lovable that I am never jealous of his pleasure." "Well, then, Thérence," said Brulette, "let us hope he will make Joseph like himself and worthy of you."