Madelon
was not indifferent or ungrateful, but her mind was filled
just then with her one idea, and she had no room for any
other; it wrought in her what seemed a supreme selfishness,
and yet she had no thought of self in the matter.
She lay quite still for a few minutes, her pale little face
glowing with her renewed hopes. Then she said,--
"Jeanne-Marie, would you mind putting out my things where I
can see them?--my frock and all. Then I shall believe I am to
get up."
Jeanne-Marie acquiesced silently. Madelon's scanty wardrobe
had all been mended and put in order, and now it was spread
out before her; but somehow the sight of the old black silk
frock brought a sudden chill with it; the very last time she
had put it on had been on the morning of the day she had
escaped from the convent. Since then what had she not gone
through! what disappointment, terror, sickness nearly to
death! Might she not indeed have been dead by this time, or a
prisoner for ever within the convent walls, had it not been
for Jeanne-Marie? Her eyes filled with tears at the thought.
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