allowed to see him—of course she was
refused; but her importunity was not to
be put by; and, at last, she was conducted
to his cell. He received her calmly, and
declared he knew she would come, and that
he had been expecting her since the day
before. He seemed quite rational and
collected, and entreated her to take him away
as it drove him mad to be there. The physician
spoke, but Achille did not heed him.
He kept his eyes fixed on Agnes, with a
look of touching entreaty. Agnes looked
wistfully at the physician, who said to
Achille, "It depends entirely on yourself.
You shall go the moment you render it
possible for us to send you away."

Achille put his hand to his forehead, as
though endeavouring to follow out an idea.
At last he said, "I understand. I will
obey."

He gravely kissed Agnes's hand, and
attended her to the door of the cell, as
though it had been a drawing-room.

"You have wonderful power over that
patient, Mademoiselle," said the physician,
"are you accustomed to mad persons?"

Agnes shook her head.

"Although he looks so quiet now, I would
not be left alone with him for a thousand
pounds," said he.

During their ride home, Agnes never spoke;
she was maturing a plan in her mind. She
asked the Raymonds to procure her some
out-of-door teaching. They entreated her
to remain with them as their daughter,
and to live with them; but she steadily
refused their kindness, and they were obliged to
desist. They procured her some pupils, whom
she was to instruct in music, drawing, and
English. She still further distressed the
Raymonds by withdrawing from their house,
and establishing herself in a modest lodging
near the Bicêtre; she attended her pupils,
and visited Achille whenever the authorities
permitted. As for Achille, from the
first day she came, a great change had come
over him. He was still mad, but seemed
by superhuman effort, to control all
outward manifestations of his madness. His
delusions were as grave as ever,—
sometimes he was betrayed into speaking of them,
and he never renounced them—but all his
actions were sane and collected. If Agnes
were a day beyond her time he grew restless
and desponding. In her personal habits
Agnes exercised an almost sordid parsimony
—she laid by nearly the whole of her
earnings—her clientèle increased—she had
rnore work than she could do. Her story
excited interest wherever it was known, and
her own manners and appearance confirmed
it. She received many handsome presents,
and was in the receipt of a comfortable
income: still she confined herself to the barest
necessaries of life. The Raymonds seldom
saw her, and they were hurt that she took
them so little into her confidence.

A year passed, and Agnes made a
formal demand to have Achille discharged
from the hospital, and given over to her care.
There were many difficulties raised, and a
great deal of opposition. M. Achille
Tremordyn was not recovered; he was liable to
a dangerous outbreak at any moment; it was
not a fit charge for a young woman, and
much besides; but Agnes was gifted with
the power of bearing down all opposition.
She argued and entreated, and finally
prevailed.

Great was the astonishment of Monsieur
Raymond, to see her thus accompanied,
drive up to his door: that of Madame
Raymond, of course was not less, but
the surprise of both reached its height,
when Agnes gravely, and without any
embarrassment requested him to come
with them to the Mairie to see her married.
Achille stood by, perfectly calm, but
the imprisoned madness lurked in his
eyes, and looked out as on the watch to
spring forth. He spoke, however, with grave
and graceful courtesy, and said that M. and
Madame Raymond must perceive that Agnes
was his good angel who had procured his
deliverance, and that it was necessary she
should give him the right to remain with
her and protect her. He could not leave her
—it was necessary to fulfil their old contract.
He said this in a subdued, measured way;
but with a suppressed impatience, as if a
very little opposition would make him break
out into violence. M. Raymond took her
apart, and represented everything that
common sense and friendship could suggest.
Agnes was immovable. Her sole reply was,
"He will never get well there; if he comes to
me I will cure him." In the end, M.
Raymond had to give way as the doctors had
done. He and Madame Raymond went
with them to the Mairie, and saw them
married.

They went home with them afterwards.
Agnes had arranged her modest ménage
with cheerfulness and good taste. A sensible
good-looking, middle-aged woman was the
only domestic.

"I have known her long," said Agnes,
"she lived with Madame Tremordyn in
Normandie, and she knew Achille as a boy,
and is quite willing to share my task."

"I believe you are a rational lunatic,
Agnes," said M. Raymond. "However, if you
fail, you will come to us at once."

They remained to partake of an English
tea which Agnes had got up, Achille
performed his part, as host, with simple
dignity. M. Raymond was almost re-assured,
Nevertheless he led her aside, and said, "My
dear girl, I stand here as your father. Are
you sure you are not afraid to remain with
this man?"

"Afraid? oh, no. How can one feel afraid
of a person we love?" said she, looking up
at him with a smile. And then she tried to