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Having taken these indispensable precautions, she was able to turn her attention to her pet, whom she loved with all that deep, exaggerated affection, which people of a bad disposition sometimes entertain for animals, as if then concentrated and lavished upon them all those feelings in which they are deficient with regard to their fellow-

creatures.In a word.Mrs.Grivois vas passionately attached to this peevish, cowardly, spiteful dog, partly perhaps from a secret sympathy with his vices.This attachment had lasted for six years, and only seemed to increase as My Lord advanced in age.

We have laid some stress on this apparently puerile detail, because the most trifling causes have often disastrous effects, and because we wish the reader to understand what must have been the despair, fury, and exasperation of this woman, when she discovered the death of her dog--a despair, a fury, and an exasperation, of which the orphans might yet feel the cruel consequences.

The hackney-coach had proceeded rapidly for some seconds, when Mrs.

Grivois, who was seated with her back to the horses, called My Lord.The dog had very good reasons for not replying.

"Well, you sulky beauty!" said Mrs.Grivois, soothingly; "you have taken offence, have you? It was not my fault if that great ugly dog came into the coach, was it, young ladies? Come and kiss your mistress, and let us make peace, old obstinate!"

The same obstinate silence continued on the part of the canine noble.

Rose and Blanche began to look anxiously at each other, for they knew that Spoil-sport was somewhat rough in his ways, though they were far from suspecting what had really happened.But Mrs.Grivois, rather surprised than uneasy at her pug-log's insensibility to her affectionate appeals, and believing him to be sullenly crouching beneath the seat, stooped clown to take him up, and feeling one of his paws, drew it impatiently towards her whilst she said to him in a half-jesting, half-

angry tone: "Come, naughty fellow! you will give a pretty notion of your temper to these young ladies."

So saying, she took up the dog, much astonished at his unresisting torpor; but what was her fright, when, having placed him upon her lap, she saw that he was quite motionless.

"An apoplexy!" cried she."The dear creature ate too much--I was always afraid of it."

Turning round hastily, she exclaimed: "Stop, coachman! stop!" without reflecting that the coachman could not hear her.Then raising the cur's head, still thinking that he was only in a fit, she perceived with horror the bloody holes imprinted by five or six sharp fangs, which left no doubt of the cause of his deplorable end.

Her first impulse was one of grief and despair."Dead!" she exclaimed;

"dead! and already cold! Oh, goodness!--And this woman burst into tears.

The tears of the wicked are ominous.For a bad man to weep, he must have suffered much; and, with him, the reaction of suffering, instead of softening the soul, inflames it to a dangerous anger.

Thus, after yielding to that first painful emotion, the mistress of My Lord felt herself transported with rage and hate--yes, hate--violent hate for the young girls, who had been the involuntary cause of the dog's death.Her countenance so plainly betrayed her resentment, that Blanche and Rose were frightened at the expression of her face, which had now grown purple with fury, as with agitated voice and wrathful glance she exclaimed: "It was your dog that killed him!"

"Oh, madame!" said Rose; "we had nothing to do with it."

"It was your dog that bit Spoil-sport first," added Blanche, in a plaintive voice.

The look of terror impressed on the features of the orphans recalled Mrs.

Grivois to herself.She saw the fatal consequences that might arise from yielding imprudently to her anger.For the very sake of vengeance, she had to restrain herself, in order not to awaken suspicion in the minds of Marshal Simon's daughters.But not to appear to recover too soon from her first impression, she continued for some minutes to cast irritated glances at the young girls; then, little by little, her anger seemed to give way to violent grief; she covered her face with her hands, heaved a long sigh, and appeared to weep bitterly.

"Poor lady!" whispered Rose to Blanche."How she weeps!--No doubt, she loved her dog as much as we love Spoil-sport."

"Alas! yes," replied Blanche."We also wept when our old Jovial was killed."

After a few minutes, Mrs.Grivois raised her head, dried her eyes definitively, and said in a gentle, and almost affectionate voice:

"Forgive me, young ladies! I was unable to repress the first movement of irritation, or rather of deep sorrow--for I was tenderly attached to this poor dog he has never left me for six years."

"We are very sorry for this misfortune, madame," resumed Rose; "and we regret it the more, that it seems to be irreparable."

"I was just saying to my sister, that we can the better fancy your grief, as we have had to mourn the death of our old horse, that carried us all the way from Siberia."

"Well, my dear young ladies, let us think no more about it.It was my fault; I should not have brought him with me; but he was always so miserable, whenever I left him.You will make allowance for my weakness.

A good heart feels for animals as well as people; so I must trust to your sensibility to excuse my hastiness."

"Do not think of it, madame; it is only your grief that afflicts us."

"I shall get over it, my dear young ladies--I shall get over it.The joy of the meeting between you and your relation will help to console me.

She will be so happy.You are so charming! and then the singular circumstance of your exact likeness to each other adds to the interest you inspire."

"You are too kind to us, madame."

"Oh, no--I am sure you resemble each other as much in disposition as in face."

"That is quite natural, madame," said Rose, "for since our birth we have never left each other a minute, whether by night or day.It would be strange, if we were not like in character."