"Alas," said Juliette, "I am a great sinner; I have deserved my fate. Forgetfulness of God, contempt of good advice, love of dress, flattery, and pleasure were the first causes of misery, and these have brought me to my present state. Oh," cried she, raising her voice to a shriek, and weeping bitterly, "that is nothing to the fate which I fear awaits me in the world to come. You have pardoned me, it is true, but I feel the weight of God's anger now settling on my soul." Mary conversed long and earnestly with her, endeavouring to point her to the Saviour of the world, who would receive her if she truly repented. At last she was obliged to leave her without being satisfied as to her state of mind, but the idea of the unhappy Juliette dying without hope continually pressed on her mind and weighed down her spirits. She recollected her little apple tree in blossom, withered by the frost, and what her father had said on that occasion. The most consoling words he had said on his deathbed presented themselves to her mind, and she renewed the promise she had made to God to live entirely to His glory. To the Countess she related her discovery, and that generous lady sent the unhappy Juliette medicine, food, and linen, and everything which might tend to relieve her illness. But it was too late, and at the age of twenty-three the once beautiful Juliette, reduced to a mere skeleton and disfigured by disease, died without having given evidence of a changed heart towards God. CHAPTER XXI. CONCLUSION. The next spring, when the country was covered with verdure and flowers, the Count, accompanied by his wife, and daughter, and Mary, went to his home at Eichbourg. Towards evening they approached the village, and when Mary saw in the light of the setting sun the familiar church steeple, the Castle, and the cottage where she had spent so many happy years with her father, she was so deeply touched that tears started to her eyes. But in the midst of the sorrowful memories which the scene called up in her mind, there came to her a devout feeling of thankfulness for the wonderful way in which God had led her back. "When I left Eichbourg," she said, "it was in disgrace, and without ever expecting to come back again. The ways of Providence are mysterious, but God is good."