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 of your father's fate ever opened to your view, peace would for ever forsake your breast; for its characters are marked by horror, and stained with blood."

Madeline grasped the Countess's arm in convulsive agitation;—"I swear (said she, raising her other hand, and looking up to heaven), from this moment, never, by any means, direct or indirect, to try and discover ought that my father wishes to conceal."

"I rejoice to hear this resolution (cried the Countess, kissing her cheek); I rejoice at it on your own account. And now, my love, let us change this discourse. You have promised (she continued) to try and recover your spirits; and I shall attentively watch to see whether you fulfil that promise. Oh, Madeline, grief in the early season of youth, is like frost to a tender flower, unkind and blighting; and no tongue can describe, no heart, except a parental one, conceive the bitter, the excruciating anguish which a