The feeble voice interrupted her:  ’My servant!—­you my servant! when, instead of rewarding your services, I allow you to toil for my support, and to lavish upon me the most tender, the most devoted affection!  My poor Margaret! you who have undertaken for me at your age, and with your infirmities, daily and arduous toil, are you not indeed a sister of whom I may well be proud?  Your nobility has a higher origin than mine.  Reduced by political changes, which have left me homeless and penniless, I owe everything to you; and so tenderly do you minister to me, that even in this garret I could still almost fancy myself the noble Abbess of Vatteville!’

As she spoke, the aged lady raised herself in her old arm-chair, and throwing back a black veil, disclosed features still beautiful, and a forehead still free from every wrinkle, and eyes now sparkling with something of their former brilliancy.  She extended her hand to Margaret, who affectionately kissed it; and then, apprehensive that further excitement could not but be injurious to her mistress, the faithful creature endeavoured to divert her thoughts into another channel, by inviting her to partake of the little feast provided by the kindness of her employer.  Margaret being in the habit of taking her meals in the house where she worked, the noble Lady Marie Anne Adelaide de Vatteville was thus usually left alone and unattended, to eat the scanty fare prescribed by the extreme narrowness of her resources; so that she now felt quite cheered by the novel comfort, not merely of the better-spread table, but of the company of her faithful servant; and it was in an almost mirthful tone she said, when the repast was ended:  ’Margaret, I have a secret to confide to you.  I will not—­I ought not to keep it any longer to myself.’

‘A secret, my dear mistress! a secret from me!’ exclaimed the faithful creature in a slightly reproachful tone.

’Yes, dear Margaret, a secret from you; but to be so no longer.  No more henceforth of the toils you have undergone for me; they must be given up:  I cannot do without you.  At my age, to be left alone is intolerable.  When you are not near me, I get so lonely, and sometimes feel quite afraid, I cannot tell of what, but I suppose it is natural to the old to fear; and often—­will you believe it?—­I catch myself weeping like a very child.  Ah! when age comes on us, we lose all strength, all fortitude.  But you will not leave me any more?  Promise me, dear Margaret.’

‘But in that case what is to become of us?’ said Margaret.

’This is the very thing I have to tell.  And now listen to me.  Take this key, and in the right-hand drawer of the press you will find the green casket, where, among my letters and family papers, you will see a small case, which bring to me.’

Margaret, not a little surprised, did as she was desired.  The abbess gazed on the case for some moments in silence, and Margaret thought she saw a tear glisten in her eye as she pressed the box to her lips, and kissed it tenderly and reverentially.