At parting, the Marquis told La Motte he rejoiced at having found so agreeable a neighbour. La Motte bowed. I shall sometimes visit you, continued he, and I lament that I cannot at present invite Madame La Motte and her fair friend to my chateau; but it is undergoing some repairs, which make it but an uncomfortable residence. [Illustration 03] The vivacity of La Motte disappeared with his guest, and he soon relapsed into fits of silence and abstraction. The Marquis is a very agreeable man, said Madame La Motte. Very agreeable, replied he. And seems to have an excellent heart, she resumed. An excellent one, said La Motte. You seem discomposed, my dear; what has disturbed you? Not in the least--I was only thinking, that with such agreeable talents and such an excellent heart, it was a pity the Marquis should-- What? my dear, said Madame with impatience. That the Marquis should--should suffer this abbey to fall into ruins, replied La Motte. Is that all? said Madame with disappointment.--That is all, upon my honour, said La Motte, and left the room. Adeline's spirits, no longer supported by the animated conversation of the Marquis, sunk into languor, and when he departed she walked pensively into the forest. She followed a little romantic path that wound along the margin of the stream and was overhung with deep shades. The tranquillity of the scenes which autumn now touched with her sweetest tints, softened her mind to a tender kind of melancholy; and she suffered a tear, which she knew not wherefore had stolen into her eye, to tremble there unchecked. She came to a little lonely recess formed by high trees; the wind sighed mournfully among the branches, and as it waved their lofty heads scattered their leaves to the ground. She seated herself on a bank beneath, and indulged the melancholy reflections that pressed on her mind. O! could I dive into futurity and behold the events which await me! said she; I should perhaps, by constant contemplation, be enabled to meet them with fortitude. An orphan in this wide world--thrown upon the friendship of strangers for comfort, and upon their bounty for the very means of existence, what but evil have I to expect? Alas, my father! how could you thus abandon your child--how leave her to the storms of life--to sink, perhaps, beneath them? alas, I have no friend! She was interrupted by a rustling among the fallen leaves; she turned her head, and perceiving the Marquis's young friend, arose to depart. Pardon this intrusion, said he, your voice attracted me hither, and your words detained me: my offence, however, brings with it its own punishment; having learned your sorrows--how can I help feeling them myself? would that my sympathy or my suffering could rescue you from them!--He hesitated.--Would that I could deserve the title of your friend, and be thought worthy of it by yourself!