 if at her own desire, a sister of his, who must be a superintendant over both her and her friend, and replace the superannuated governess, who was no longer capable of her charge.—To this, my poor Genevieve told me she had consented, rather than not have the company of Jacquelina, to cheer her solitude—that Jacquelina was consequently arrived, and the other expected every day—but that, notwithstanding she now had a companion, the Jesuit continued to find but too many opportunities to entertain her with conversation which she could not misunderstand.
My blood boiled with indignation, while I read this letter, and I instantly communicated the contents of it to my friend, Ormond.—"It is not possible," said he, "that you can hesitate, my dear Chevalier, how to act—let us

set out instantly for Rochemarte—you see a friend ready, not only to attend you, but to lose his life in your service." We departed the next day, followed only by two servants, and arriving at Perpignan, began to consult on the means of meeting Genevieve, without the knowledge of my father, or the inhabitants of the castle—and the properest expedient that occurred to us was, to disguise ourselves and our servants, as hunters, and to watch, in that dress, till chance should throw my sister in our way.
I sometimes thought of going openly to my father, and making one effort to awaken his paternal feelings; to obtain my own pardon, and my sister's liberty; but after consulting with Ormond, we agreed, that it was better to endeavour to see her first; for a failure in the success of this scheme would probably occasion her to be so closely confined, that we might never have an opportunity of seeing her at all.
Equipped, therefore, as Izard hunters, we reached this castle—and wandered about a whole day in its neighbourhood without any

success—the weather was so intensely warm, for it was now autumn, that I believed my sister came out only early in the morning, or late in the evening—and that the best probability of meeting her, was at those hours—to take up our abode near the castle, therefore, was material, and I recollected the banqueting-house in the wood, which had then, I imagined, been long neglected, and where our residence could not be suspected. But, on entering, I was surprised to find it newly fitted up, and sumptuously furnished with every article that could contribute to luxury and repose—this had been done by the Jesuit's directions, and here he now and then made little entertainments for some
