that her mother, Madame D'Aubrey, had just arrived, and was coming to her
in the garden. This startled our lovers into a painful expectation
of another trial. For as Louisa was an only daughter, and her parents
dotingly fond of her, it was not to be imagined that they would give her up
without a hard struggle. Seeing the old lady coming down the walk
towards them, they endeavored to adjust their looks, and to meet her
with the wonted smile. But in vain. The tumult in their bosoms
was still too visible in their looks to escape her discernment.
She eagerly asked the cause. Their changing countenances
served but to increase her fears and the vehemence of her curiosity.
The bishop's letter was put into her hands. Its effects on the good old lady
were truly distressing. Not having, like her daughter, the vigor of youth,
nor the fervors of love to support her, she was almost overcome.

Soon as her spirits were a little recovered, she insisted
that her daughter and son-in-law should instantly step into her coach
and go home with her. "Your father, my dear," said she to Louisa,
"your father, Monsieur D'Aubrey, will, I am certain, do something for us."

But in this she was woefully mistaken, for Monsieur D'Aubrey
was one of that blind sort who place all their religion in forms and notions.
He could smile and look very fond upon a man, though not over moral,
provided that man went to his church -- praised his preacher and opinions,
and abused everybody else; but would look very sour on the best man on earth
who differed from him in those things. In short, he was destitute of love,
the sole life of religion. And though on account of his wife's importunities
and his daughter's repose, he had consented to her marriage with Marion,
yet he never liked the young `heretic', and therefore he read
the order of his banishment without any burst of grief,
and made no effort to revoke the decrees of the church against him,