look upon their mode of life as being as much a matter of
course, and a part of the great system of things, as the child
does who sees her father go out to plough every day, or mount
the pulpit every Sunday to preach his sermon. Of course she
did not understand it all; it was his one object in life that
she should not; and fondly as he loved his little Madelon, he
did not scruple to make her welfare subordinate to his own
views. He was careful to keep her within the shady bounds of
that world of no doubtful character, which he found wherever
he went, hovering on the borders of the world of avowed
honesty and respectability, jealously guarding her from every
counter-influence, however good or beneficial. He would not
send her to school, was half unwilling, indeed, that she
should be educated in any way, lest she should come to the
knowledge of good and evil, which he so carefully hid from
her; and he even dismissed her good, kind-hearted bonne, on
overhearing her instruct the child, who could then hardly
speak plain, in some little hymn or prayer, or pious story,
such as nurses delight in teaching their charges. After that
he took care of her himself with the assistance of friendly
landladies at the hotels he frequented, who all took an
interest in and were kind to the little motherless girl, but
were too busy to have any time to spend in teaching her, or
enlarging her ideas; and indeed all the world conspired to
carry out M. Linders' plan; for who would have cared, even had
it been possible, to undertake the ungracious task of opening
the eyes of a child to the real character of a father whom she
loved and believed in so implicitly? And she was so happy,
too! Setting aside any possible injury he might be doing her,
M. Linders was the most devoted of fathers, loving and caring