just as he was into the bedclothes.

The last remaining drop of oil in the lamp was now gone, and the last
blue flame flickered up through the chimney and was quenched. Then
followed a thick grey smoke, which came curling up from the still
glowing wick, and wreathed itself in graceful spirals through the glass
and glided out into the room, until it looked like a maze of fairy
threads in the faint light from the window.

Nothing was heard but the sound of heavy breathing. The old man's
respiration was short and broken, while Martin, after turning over a few
times, lay quiet, and at length began to snore. Before long he started
up again uneasily, heated as he was by drink and passion.

Still a little longer smouldered the red glow of the wick, while the
smoke wreathed up thinner and thinner through the glass and spread
itself in the darkness.




CHAPTER VII.


Fanny Garman had from the first shown herself particularly well disposed
towards Madeleine, and had more than once invited her to come and pay
her a visit in the town. Nothing had hitherto come of the invitation,
for even Madeleine, unversed as she was in the ways of society, could
see that nothing more was meant than a compliment.