One day M. de Wolmar drew Julie and myself aside, and where do you think he took us?  To a plantation near the house, which Julie had never entered since her marriage.  It was there that she had first kissed me.  She was unwilling to enter the place, but he drew her along with him, and bade us be seated.  Then he began: 

“Julie, I knew the secret of your love before you revealed it to me.  I knew it before I married you.  I may have been in the wrong to marry you, knowing that your heart was elsewhere; but I loved you, and I believed I could make you happy.  Have I succeeded?”

“My dear husband,” said Julie, in tears, “you know you have succeeded.”

“One thing only,” he went on, “was necessary to prove to you that your old passion was powerless against your virtue, and that was the presence of your old lover.  I trusted you; I believed, from my knowledge of you, that I could trust him.  I invited him here, and since then I have been quietly watching.  My high anticipations of him are justified.  And as for you, Julie, the haunting fears that your virtue would fail before the test inflicted by the return of your lover have, once and for all, been put to rest.  Past wounds are healed.  Monsieur,” he added, turning to me, “you have proved yourself worthy of our fullest confidence and our warmest friendship.”

What could I answer?  I could but embrace him in silence.

Madame d’Orbe, now a widow, is about to come here to take permanent charge of the household, leaving Julie to devote herself to the training of the children.

Hasten to join us, mylord; your coming is anxiously awaited.  For my own part, I shall not be content until you have looked with your own eyes upon the peaceful delights of our life at Clarens.

FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD

Madame d’Orbe is now with us.  We look to you to complete the party.  When you have made a long stay at Clarens, I shall be ready to join you in your projected journey to Rome.

Julie has revealed to me the one trouble of her life.  Her husband is a freethinker.  Will you aid me in trying to convince him of his error, and thus perfecting Julie’s happiness?

IV.—­The Veil

FROM SAINT PREUX TO MADAME D’ORBE

Mylord Edouard and I, after leaving you all yesterday, proceeded no farther than Villeneuve; an accident to one of mylord’s attendants delayed us, and we spent the night there.

As you know, I had parted from Julie with regret, but without violent emotion.  Yet, strangely enough, when I was alone last night the old grief came back.  I had lost her!  She lived and was happy; her life was my death, her happiness my torment!  I struggled with these ideas.  When I lay down, they pursued me in my sleep.

At length I started up from a hideous dream.  I had seen Julie stretched upon her death-bed.  I knew it was she, although her face was covered by a veil.  I advanced to tear it off; I could not reach it.  “Be calm, my friend,” she said feebly; “the veil of dread covers me, no hand can remove it.”  I made another effort, and awoke.