His rounded cheek has grown thin, as with the care and thought which beset the anxious step of youth on entering into life.
Both, as before remarked, spoke in whispers; both from time to time glanced fearfully at the door; both felt that they belonged to a hearth round which smile not the jocund graces of trust and love and the heart's open ease.
"But," said Gabriel,--"but if you would be safe, my father must have no secrets hid from you." "I do not know that he has.

He speaks to me frankly of his hopes, of the share he has in the discovery of the plot against the First Consul, of his interviews with Pierre Guillot, the Breton." "Ah, because there your courage supports him, and your acuteness assists his own.

Such secrets belong to his public life, his political schemes; with those he will trust you.

It is his private life, his private projects, you must know." "But what does he conceal from me?
Apart from politics, his whole mind seems bent on the very natural object of securing intimacy with his rich cousin, M.Bellanger, from whom he has a right to expect so large an inheritance." "Bellanger is rich, but he is not much older than my father." "He has bad health." "No," said Gabriel, with a downcast eye and a strange smile, "he has not bad health; but he may not be long-lived." "How do you mean ?" asked Lucretia, sinking her voice into a still lower whisper, while a shudder, she scarce knew why, passed over her frame.
"What does my father do," resumed Gabriel, "in that room at the top of the house?
Does he tell you that secret ?" "He makes experiments in chemistry.

You know that that was always his favourite study.