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which she had never so justly appreciated as at the moment she feared it was lost to her for ever. She therefore determined to write to him. But how reconcile the proud and haughty spirit of the past day's conduct with the contrite and humble feelings of the present? After having written and torn several notes, Imogen contented herself with sending two suppliant lines, bathed with her tears, and dictated in real anguish of heart, requesting he would indulge her with half an hour's interview that evening at six o'clock.The laquais to whom Imogen delivered this billet demanded, in the name of the coachman, if it was his lady's pleasure the carriage should be got ready?"Certainly

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not," was Imogen's impulsive answer;

but the reflection of a moment induced her to recal her words, and the horses were ordered to be immediately harnessed.

At a moment when a thousand vague and gloomy presages floated on the surface of her imagination, every incident,

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every circumstance, received its colouring from their predominant hue; and no female visitant having called on her the preceding day, and only two giddy and inconsiderate girls the day before, she fancied that her not having appeared abroad since the festin of the duchess de Montmorency, and her absence from the court lottery, might sanction the rumours of malice, and countenance those reports which envy was every day broaching to her disadvantage. Endeavouring, therefore, to chase the shadow of affliction from her brow, and the traces of remorse from her countenance, she entered her carriage, and drove to the hotel de Montmorency, concealing her face with her veil, fearing lest in every eye she should meet the supplicating glance of a creditor, or the reproachful looks of one whom she had injured. As soon as her avant-courier had announced her arrival at the hotel de Montmorency, the porter said, "his lady

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was not at home;" when the carriage

turning round the court, Imogen cast her eyes towards a balcony that ran along the front of the hotel, and beheld the duchess. de Montmorency leaning over the balustrade with several ladies and gentlemen, among whom she discovered the ladies d'Entragues and de Beuil, and the marquis de Sancy: they coldly returned the transient glance of the solitary visitor, but took no further notice of her.

Imogen sank back in her carriage, and a feeling of mortified pride, for a moment, swallowed up every other. Unknown to herself she was carried to the hotel de Bel. leisle. She had given previous orders to be driven there; and, though now unfit for every society, she had not the presence of mind to countermand her orders until the carriage stopt at the door. She to whom, but a few days before, every door flew open, now felt a momentary satisfaction that even one admitted her.

The marchioness de Belleisle, from being once so renowned for her gaiety and

charms, had now become a professed devotee; and when Imogen was ushered up to the apartment where she received her levee, she found her surrounded by priests, abbés, jesuitical monks, and female bigots.

The witty and agreeable bishop de Rouenne stood close to the door as Imogen entered it, and she gladly stopt to chat to him, and to spare herself the trouble of forcing her way through the crowd by which the marchioness was surrounded. After some indifferent conversation which she, with difficulty, endeavoured to support, she fancied that the usual free and easy manners of the bishop laboured under some restraint; that his answers were more incoherent; his air confused; and his eyes were constantly turned towards the company, while the position she stood in concealed it from her view. Anxious to learn the cause of his abstraction, she turned round, and observed every eye fixed on herself, while every ear seemed to lend its attention to a person who, in a low

voice, was speaking to the lady de Belleisle in the centre of the group.

The words "a poor novice of the order "of St. Dominick" met her ear distinctly, and the circle giving way, the forms of the lady Magdelaine de Montmorelle and the father Anselme saluted her eye. She saw she heard no more! The mortification of her feelings had now reached its climax, and she would have sunk to the earth, but the arms of the good bishop received her. Touched with the tenderest compassion, while others gazed on her only with curiosity or triumph, he conveyed her to her carriage. The freshness of the air revived her; she wept and pressed the hand of the bishop in silence. "I pity you from

my soul," said he with emotion, "and "will persist to the end of time in believ"ing you innocent."

"In believing me innocent!" repeated faintly the astonished Imogen; but he had returned to the house, and the carriage drove on. Imogen threw herself back, and

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