Adeline blushed, and fixed her eyes on the ground. You have, indeed, Sir, named the only means I should reject of evincing my sincerity. The Marquis I can never love, nor, to speak sincerely, ever esteem. I confess the peace of one's whole life is too much to sacrifice even to gratitude.--La Motte looked displeased. 'Tis as I thought, said he; these delicate sentiments make a fine appearance in speech, and render the person who utters them infinitely amiable; but bring them to the test of action, and they dissolve into air, leaving only the wreck of vanity behind. This unjust sarcasm brought tears to her eyes. Since your safety, Sir, depends upon my conduct, said she, resign me to my father: I am willing to return to him, since my stay here must involve you in new misfortune: let me not prove myself unworthy of the protection I have hitherto experienced, by preferring my own welfare to yours. When I am gone, you will have no reason to apprehend the Marquis's displeasure, which you may probably incur if I stay here; for I feel it impossible that I could even consent to receive his addresses, however honourable were his views. La Motte seemed hurt and alarmed. This must not be, said he; let us not harass ourselves by stating _possible_ evils, and then, to avoid them, fly to those which are _certain_. No, Adeline, though you are ready to sacrifice yourself to my safety, I will not suffer you to do so;--I will not yield you to your father but upon compulsion. Be satisfied, therefore, upon this point. The only return I ask, is a civil deportment towards the Marquis. I will endeavour to obey you, Sir, said Adeline.--Madame La Motte now entered the room, and this conversation ceased. Adeline passed the evening in melancholy thoughts, and retired as soon as possible to her chamber, eager to seek in sleep a refuge from sorrow. CHAPTER IX Full many a melancholy night He watch'd the slow return of light, And sought the powers of sleep; To spread a momentary calm O'er his sad couch, and in the balm Of bland oblivion's dews his burning eyes to steep. WARTON. The MS. found by Adeline the preceding night had several times occurred to her recollection in the course of the day; but she had then been either too much interested by the events of the moment, or too apprehensive of interruption, to attempt a perusal of it. She now took it from the drawer in which it had been deposited, and, intending only to look cursorily over the few first pages, sat down with it by her bed-side. She opened it with an eagerness of inquiry which the discoloured and almost obliterated ink but slowly gratified. The first words on the page were entirely lost, but those that appeared to commence the narrative were as follows: