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"Whereupon, the notary, opening a book he had brought with him, showed me the last page all covered with figures, and said:

"'Mademoiselle, from the exact' – he used a word here that I have forgotten – 'your yearly income amounts to the sum of three million one hundred and twenty thousand francs, which gives you nearly eight thousand francs a day, so you are the richest heiress in France.'

"This, my poor dear mother, reminded me again of what, alas! I scarcely ever forget, – that I was an orphan, and alone in the world; and in spite of all my efforts to control my feelings, I wept bitterly."

Ernestine was obliged to stop writing. Her tears had burst forth afresh, for to this tender-hearted, artless child, this rich inheritance meant the loss of her mother and of her father.

Becoming calmer after a few moments, she resumed her pen, and continued:

"It is difficult for me to explain it, but on learning that I had eight thousand francs a day, as the notary said, I felt a great awe, not unmixed with fear.

"'So much money – just for myself! why is it?' I thought.

"It seemed to me unjust.

"What had I done to be so rich?

"And then those words which had made me weep, 'You are the richest heiress in France,' almost terrified me.

"Yes; I know not how to explain it, but the knowledge that I possessed this immense fortune made me feel strangely uneasy. It seemed to me that I must feel as people feel who have a great treasure, and who tremble at the thought of the dangers they will incur if any one tries to rob them of it.

"And yet, no; this comparison is not a just one, for I never cared very much for the money you and my father gave me each month to gratify my fancies.

"In fact, I seem unable to analyse my feelings when I think of my wealth, as they call it. It is strange and inexplicable, but perhaps I shall feel differently by and by.

"In the meantime, I am surrounded by the kindest and most devoted of relatives. What can I have to fear? It is pure childishness on my part, undoubtedly. But to whom can I tell everything, if not to you? M. de la Rochaiguë and the other members of his household are wonderfully kind to me, but I shall never make confidants of them. You know I have always been very reserved to every one but you and my father; and I often reproach myself for not being more familiar with my good Laîné, who has been with me several years. But anything like familiarity is impossible to me, though I am far from being proud."

Then alluding to the aversion she felt for M. de Maillefort, in consequence of Mlle. Helena's calumnies, Ernestine added:

"I was cruelly hurt this evening, but it was such a disgraceful thing that, out of respect to you, my dear mother, I will not write it, nor do I really believe that I should have the courage.

"Good night, my darling mamma. To-morrow and the day following, I am going to nine o'clock mass with Mlle. de la Rochaiguë. She is so good and kind that I could not refuse. But my most fervent prayers, my dear mother, are those I offer up in solitude. To-morrow morning and other mornings, in the midst of the careless crowd, I shall pray for you, but it is when I am alone, as now, that my every thought and my very soul lifts itself to thee, and that I pray to thee as one prays to God – my beloved and sainted mother!"

After having replaced the book in the writing-desk, the key of which she wore always suspended around her neck, the orphan sought her couch, and slept much more calmly and peacefully now she had made these artless confessions to an – alas! – now immortal mother.

CHAPTER XXIV
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

On the morning following the day on which M. de Maillefort had been introduced to Mlle. de Beaumesnil for the first time, Commander Bernard was lying stretched out in the comfortable armchair which had been a present from Olivier.

It was a beautiful summer morning, and the old sailor gazed out sadly through the window on the parched flower beds, now full of weeds, for a month before two of the veteran's old wounds had reopened, keeping him a prisoner in his armchair, and preventing him from working in his beloved garden.

The housekeeper was seated near the commander, busy with some sewing, but for several minutes she must have been indulging in her usual recriminations against "Bû-û-onaparte," for she was now saying to the veteran, in tones of bitter indignation:

"Yes, monsieur, raw, raw; I tell you he ate it raw!"

The veteran, when his acute suffering abated a little, could not help laughing at the housekeeper's absurd stories, so he said:

"What was it that this diabolical Corsican ogre ate raw, Mother Barbançon?"

"His beef, monsieur! Yes, the night before the battle he ate his meat raw! And do you know why?"

"No," answered the veteran, turning himself with difficulty in his armchair; "I can not imagine, I am sure."

"The wretch did it to render himself more ferocious, so he would have the courage to see his soldiers exterminated by the enemy, – above all, the conscripts," added the indignant housekeeper. "His sole object in life was to provide food for cannon, as he said, and so to depopulate France by conscriptions that there would not be a single Frenchman left. That was his diabolical scheme!"

Commander Bernard replied to this tirade by another loud burst of laughter.

"Let me ask just this one question," he said. "If Bonaparte desired that there shouldn't be another Frenchman left in France, who the devil would he have had to reign over, then?"

"Why, negroes, of course," snapped the housekeeper, shrugging her shoulders impatiently, and acting quite as if an absurdly easy question had been put to her.

It was such a ridiculous answer, and so entirely unexpected, that a moment of positive stupefaction preceded a fresh outburst of hilarity on the part of the commander, who, as soon as he could control his mirth a little, inquired:

"Negroes, what negroes?"

"Why, those American negroes with whom he was always plotting, and who, while he was on his rock, began a tunnel which, starting at Champ-d'Asile, and passing under St. Helena, was intended to transport to the capital of the empire other negroes, friends of the American negroes, so Bû-û-onaparte, in company with his odious Roustan, could return to ravage all France."

"Really, Mother Barbançon," exclaimed the veteran, admiringly, "I never knew your imagination to soar to such sublime heights before."

"I don't see that there is anything to laugh at, monsieur. Would you like to have conclusive proof that the monster always intended to replace the French by negroes?"

"I should indeed, Mother Barbançon," exclaimed the veteran, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Come, let us have the proof."

"Ah, well, monsieur, hasn't everybody said for years that your Bû-û-onaparte treated the French like so many negroes?"

"Bravo, Mother Barbançon, bravo!"

"Well, isn't that proof enough that he would like to have had all negroes instead of Frenchmen under his thumb?"

"Thanks, Mother Barbançon!" exclaimed the poor commander, fairly writhing with merriment. "But this is too much, really too much!"

Two loud and imperious peals of the bell made the housekeeper spring from her chair and hurry out of the room, exclaiming:

"There is some one who rings in a lordly way, I must say."

And closing the door of the veteran's chamber behind her, Madame Barbançon flew to admit the visitor.

This proved to be a stout man about fifty years of age, wearing the uniform of a second lieutenant in the National Guard, – a uniform that gaped in a ridiculous manner behind, and disclosed to view in front an enormous stomach, over which dangled a big gold chain. This personage, who wore an immense bearskin hat that nearly covered his eyes, had a pompous and extremely self-important air.

On beholding him, Madame Barbançon knit her brows, and, evidently not very deeply impressed by the dignity of this citizen soldier, asked, in a decidedly sharp tone:

"What, you here again?"

"It would be very strange if an owner" – the word owner was uttered with the majestic air of a ruling sovereign – "if an owner could not come into his own house, when – "

"You are not in your own house, for you have rented it to the commander."

"This is the seventeenth of the month, and my porter has sent me a printed notice that my rent has not been paid, so I – "

"We all know that. This is the third time in the last two days that you have been here to dun us. Do you expect us to give you our last cent for the rent? We'll pay you when we can, and that is all there is about it."

"When you can? A house owner is not to be paid in promises."

"House owner! You can boast of being a house owner only because for the last twenty years you've been putting pepper in your brandy and chicory in your coffee, as well as dipping your candles in boiling water to melt off the tallow without anybody's discovering it, and with the proceeds of this cheating you've perhaps bought a few houses. I don't see anything to be so proud of in that, do you?"

"I have been a grocer, it is true. It is also true that I made money in my business, and I am proud of the fact, madame."

"You have no reason to be. Besides, if you are rich, how can you have the heart to torment a worthy man like the commander merely because he is a little behind in his rent – for the first time, too, in over three years."

"I don't care anything about that. Pay me my money, or out you go! It is very astonishing; people can't pay their rent, but they must have gardens and every modern convenience, these fastidious tenants of mine!"

"Come, come, M. Bouffard, don't go too far or you may be sorry for it! Of course he must have a garden, this brave man, crippled with wounds, for a garden is his only pleasure in life. If, instead of sticking to your counter, you had gone to the wars like the commander, and shed your blood in the four quarters of the globe, and in Russia, you wouldn't own any more houses than he does! Go, and see if you do!"

"Once, twice, I ask, will you pay me to-day?"

"Three times, a hundred times, and a thousand times, no! Since the commander's wound reopened, he can sleep only with the aid of opium. That drug is as costly as gold itself, and the one hundred and fifty francs he has received has had to go in medicine and doctor's visits."

"I don't care anything about your reasons. House owners would be in a nice fix if they listened to their tenants' excuses. It was just the same at one of my houses on the Rue de Monceau where I've just been. My tenant there is a music teacher, who can't pay her rent because she's been sick, she says, and hasn't been able to give lessons as usual. The same old story! When a person is sick, he ought to go to the hospital, and give you a chance to find another tenant."

"The hospital! Commander Bernard go to the hospital!" cried the now thoroughly exasperated housekeeper. "No, not even if I have to go out as a ragpicker at night, and nurse him in the daytime, he sha'n't go to the hospital, understand that, but you run a great risk of going there yourself if you don't clear out, for M. Olivier is coming back, and he'll give you more kicks in your miserable stomach than you have hairs in your bearskin cap."

"I would like to see any other house owner who would allow himself to be abused in this fashion in his own house. But enough of this. I'll be back at four o'clock, and if the hundred and fifty francs are not ready for me, I'll seize your furniture."

"And I'll seize my fire-shovel and give you the reception you deserve!"

And the housekeeper slammed the door in M. Bouffard's face, and went back to the commander. His fit of hilarity was over, but he was still in a very good humour, so, on seeing Madame Barbançon return with cheeks blazing with anger, the old sailor said to her:

"Well, it seems that you didn't expend all your wrath upon Bonaparte, Mother Barbançon. Who the devil are you in such a rage with now?"

"With some one who isn't a bit better than your Emperor, I can tell you that. The two would make a pretty pair. Bah!"

"And who is it that is such a good match for the emperor, Mother Barbançon?"

"It is – "

But the housekeeper suddenly checked herself.

"Poor, dear man," she thought, "it would almost kill him if I should tell him that the rent isn't paid, that the expenses of his illness have eaten up every penny of his money, as well as sixty francs of my own. I'll wait until M. Olivier comes. He may have some good news for us."

"What the deuce are you mooning about there instead of answering me, Mother Barbançon? Is it some new atrocity of the little corporal's that you are going to treat me to?"

"How glad I am! That must be M. Olivier," cried the housekeeper, hearing the bell ring again, gently this time.

And again leaving her employer, Madame Barbançon ran to the door. It was, indeed, the commander's nephew this time.

"Well, M. Olivier?" asked the housekeeper, anxiously.

"We are saved," replied the young man, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "My worthy friend, the mason, had some difficulty in getting the money he owed me, for I had not told him I should want it so soon, but here are the two hundred francs at last," said Olivier, handing a little bag of coin to the housekeeper.

"What a relief it is, M. Olivier."

"Why, has the landlord been here again?"

"He just left, the scoundrel! I told him pretty plainly what I thought of him."

"But, my dear Madame Barbançon, when one owes a man money, one must pay it. But my poor uncle suspects nothing, does he?"

"No, not a thing, I'm glad to say."

"So much the better."

"Such a capital idea has just struck me!" exclaimed the vindictive housekeeper, as she counted the money the young man had just handed her. "Such a capital idea!"

"What is it, Mother Barbançon?"

"That scoundrel will be back here at four o'clock, and I'm going to make up a hot fire in my cook-stove and put thirty of these five-franc pieces in it, and when that monster of a M. Bouffard comes, I'll tell him to wait a minute, and then I'll go and take the money out with my tongs and pile the coins up on the table, and then I'll say to him, 'There's your money; take it.' That will be fine, M. Olivier, won't it. The law doesn't forbid that, does it?"

"So you want to fire red-hot bullets at all the rich grocers, do you?" laughed Olivier. "Do better than that. Save your charcoal, and give the hundred and fifty francs to M. Bouffard cold."

"You are entirely too good-natured, M. Olivier. Let me at least spoil his pretty face with my nails, the brigand."

"Nonsense! He's much more stupid than wicked."

"He's both, M. Olivier, he's both, I tell you!"

"But how is my uncle this morning? I went out so early that he was still asleep, and I didn't like to wake him."

"He is feeling better, for he and I just had a fine dispute about his monster. And then your return, why, it is worth more to him than all the medicines in the world, and when I think that but for you that frightful Bouffard might have turned us out in three or four days! And Heaven knows that our belongings wouldn't have brought much, for our six tablespoons and the commander's watch went when he was ill three years ago."

"My good Mother Barbançon, don't talk of that, or you will drive me mad, for when my furlough is over I shall not be here, and what happened to-day may happen again at any time. But I won't even think of it. It is too terrible!"

The commander's bell rang, and on hearing the sound the housekeeper said to the young man, whose face wore an almost heart-broken expression:

"That is the commander ringing. For heaven's sake don't look so sad, M. Olivier; he will be sure to suspect something."

"You needn't be afraid of that. But, by the way, Gerald is sure to call this morning. You must let him in."

"All right, M. Olivier. Go to the commander at once, and I will soon have your breakfast ready. Dear me, M. Olivier," she continued, with a sigh, "can you be content with – "

"My dear, good woman," cried the young soldier, without allowing her to finish, "don't I always have enough? Aren't you always depriving yourself of something to give it to me?"

"Hush! Monsieur is ringing again. Hasten to him at once!"

And Olivier obeyed.

CHAPTER XXV
MATRIMONIAL INTENTIONS DISCLOSED

At the sight of Olivier, the commander's features assumed a joyful expression, and, not being able to rise from his armchair, he held out both hands to his nephew, saying:

"Good morning, my boy."

"Good morning, uncle."

"I feel strongly inclined to scold you."

"Me, uncle?"'

"Certainly. Though you only returned yesterday you were off this morning almost before sunrise. I woke quite early, happy in the thought that I was not alone, as I have been for two months past. I glance over at your bed, but no Olivier is to be seen. You had already flown."

"But, uncle – "

"But, my boy, you have cheated me out of nearly two months of your leave already. A hitch in your master mason's business matters, you told me. So be it; but now, thanks to the earnings of these two months, you must be almost a millionaire, so I intend to enjoy your society from this on. You have earned plenty of money. As it is for me that you are always working, I cannot prevent you from making me presents, and Heaven only knows what you are plotting to do with your millions this very minute, M. Croesus; but I tell you one thing, if you leave me as much of the time alone as you did before you went away, I will not accept another present from you. I swear I will not!"

"But, uncle, listen to me – "

"You have only two more months to spend with me, and I am determined to make the most of them. What is the use of working as you do? Do you suppose that, with a manager like Mother Barbançon, my purse is not always full? Only two or three days ago I said to her: 'Well, Madame Steward, how are we off for funds?' 'You needn't worry about that, monsieur,' she replied; 'when one has more than one spends, there is a plenty.' I tell you that a cashier who answers like that is a comfort."

"Oh, well, uncle," said Olivier, anxious to put an end to this embarrassing conversation, "I promise that I will leave you as little as possible henceforth. Now, one thing more, do you feel able to see Gerald this morning?"

"Why, of course. What a kind and loyal heart that young duke has! When I think that during your absence he came here again and again to see me, and smoke his cigar with me! I was suffering the torments of the damned, but somehow he managed to make me feel ever so much more comfortable. 'Olivier is away,' he said to me, 'and it is my business to look after you.'"

"My good Gerald!" murmured Olivier, deeply moved.

"Yes, he is good. A young man of his position, who leaves his pleasures, his sweethearts, and friends of his own age, to come and spend two or three hours with an old cripple like me, proves conclusively that he has a good heart. But I'm not a conceited fool, I know very well that it was on your account that Gerald came to see me, my dear nephew, and because he knew it would give you pleasure."

"No, no, uncle. It was for your sake, and for yours alone, believe me!"

"Hum!"

"He will tell you so himself, presently, for he wrote yesterday to ask if he would find us at home this morning."

"Alas! he is only too certain to find me; I cannot budge from my armchair. You see the melancholy proof of that," added the old sailor, pointing to his dry and weedy flower borders. "My poor garden is nearly burnt up. Mamma Barbançon has been too busy to attend to it; besides, my illness seems to have put her all out of sorts. I suggested asking the porter to water the flowers every day or two; but you should have heard how she answered me. 'Bring strangers into the house to steal and destroy everything!' You know what a temper the good woman has, and I dared not insist, so you can see what a terrible condition my poor flowers are in."

"Never mind, uncle; I am back now, and I will act as your head gardener," said Olivier, gaily. "I have thought of it before, and if I had not been obliged to go out early this morning on business, you would have found your garden all weeded, and fresh as a rose sparkling with dew when you woke this morning. But to-morrow morning, – well, you shall see!"

The commander was about to thank Olivier when Madame Barbançon opened the door and asked if M. Gerald could come in.

"I should say he could come in!" exclaimed the old naval officer, gaily, as Olivier advanced to meet his friend.

"Thank heaven! his master mason has returned him to us at last," exclaimed the veteran, pointing to Olivier.

"Hopeless chaos seemed to reign in the worthy man's estimates," replied Olivier, "and when they were at last adjusted, the manager of the property, struck by my fine handwriting and symmetrical figures, asked me to straighten out some accounts of his, and I consented. But now I think of it, do you know, Gerald, who owns the magnificent château in which I spent the last two months?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Well, the Marquise of Carabas."

"What Marquise of Carabas?"

"The enormously wealthy heiress you were talking to us about before I went away."

"Mlle. de Beaumesnil?" exclaimed Gerald, in profound astonishment.

"The same. This magnificent estate belongs to her and yields her a yearly income of twenty thousand livres; and it seems that she has dozens of such properties."

"What the devil can one do with so much money?" exclaimed the veteran.

"It is certainly a strange coincidence," murmured Gerald, thoughtfully.

"And why?"

"Because there is a possibility of my marrying Mlle. de Beaumesnil."

"Indeed, M. Gerald," said the veteran, artlessly, "so a desire to marry has seized you since I saw you last?"

"So you are in love with Mlle. de Beaumesnil?" asked Olivier, no less naïvely.

Gerald, surprised at these questions, replied, after a moment of reflection:

"It is perfectly natural that you should speak in this way, commander, and you, too, Olivier; and among all the persons I know you are the only ones. Yes, for if I had said to a thousand other people, 'It is proposed that I should marry the richest heiress in France,' each and every one of them would have replied without a thought about anything else: 'Yes, marry her by all means. It is a splendid match; marry her, by all means!'"

Then, after another pause, Gerald added:

"Of course it is only right, but how rare, oh, how rare!"

"Upon my word, I had no idea that I was saying anything remarkable, M. Gerald. Olivier thinks exactly as I do, don't you, my boy?"

"Yes, uncle. But what is the matter with you, Gerald? Why do you seem so serious all of a sudden?"

"I will tell you," said the young duke, whose features did, indeed, wear an unusually thoughtful expression. "I came here this morning to inform you of my matrimonial intentions, – you, commander, and you, Olivier, for I regard you both as sincere and devoted friends."

"You certainly have no truer ones, M. Gerald," said the veteran, earnestly.

"I am certain of that, commander, and this knowledge made me doubly anxious to confide my projects to you."

"That is very natural," replied Olivier, "for you know so well that whatever interests you interests us."

"The real state of the case is this," said Gerald, replying to his friend's words by a friendly gesture. "Yesterday, my mother, dazzled by Mlle. de Beaumesnil's wealth, proposed to me that I should marry that young lady. My mother considered my success certain, if I would consent to follow her counsels. But remembering the pleasures of my bachelor life and of independence, I at first refused."

"But if you have no liking for married life, the millions upon millions should not induce you to change this determination," remarked the old naval officer, kindly.

"But wait, commander," said Gerald, with some little embarrassment. "My refusal irritated my mother. She told me I was blind, and that I had no sense; but finally her anger gave place to such profound chagrin that, seeing her inconsolable at my refusal, I – "

"You consented to the marriage?" asked Olivier.

"Yes," replied Gerald.

Then noticing a slight movement of astonishment on the part of the old sailor, Gerald added:

"Commander, my decision seems to surprise you."

"Yes, M. Gerald."

"But why? Tell me frankly."

"Well, M. Gerald, if you consent to marry contrary to your inclination, and that merely to please your mother, I fear you are making a great mistake," answered the veteran, in firm, but affectionate tones, "for sooner or later your wife will suffer for the compulsion you exert upon yourself to-day, and one ought not to marry to make a woman unhappy. Don't you agree with me, Olivier?"

"Perfectly."

"But how could I bear to see my mother weep, my mother who seems to have set her heart upon this marriage?"

"But think of seeing your wife weep, M. Gerald. Your mother has your affection to console her, while your wife, poor orphan that she is, who will console her? No one, or perhaps she will do as so many other women do, – console herself with lovers who are inferior to you in every way. They will torment her, they will disgrace her, perhaps, – another chance of misery for the poor creature!"

The young duke's head drooped, and he answered not a word.

"You asked us to be frank with you, M. Gerald," continued the commander, "and we are, because we love you sincerely."

"I did not doubt that you would be perfectly frank with me, so I ought to be equally so, and say in my defence that in consenting to this marriage I was influenced by another and not altogether ungenerous sentiment. You remember that I spoke of Macreuse, the other day, Olivier?"

"That miserable wretch who put little birds' eyes out with pins!" cried the veteran, upon whom this incident had evidently made a deep impression, "that hypocrite who is now a hanger-on of the clergy?"

"The same, commander. Well, he is one of the aspirants for Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand."

"Macreuse!" exclaimed Olivier. "Poor girl, but he has no chance of success, has he?"

"My mother says not, but I fear that he has; for the Church supports Macreuse's claims, and the Church is very powerful."

"Such a scoundrel as that succeed!" cried the old officer. "It would be shameful!"

"And it was because I was so indignant at the idea that, already touched by my mother's disappointment, I consented to the marriage partly in order to circumvent that wretch, Macreuse."

"But afterwards, M. Gerald, you reflected, did you not, that an honourable man like yourself does not marry merely to please his mother and circumvent a rival, even if that rival is a Macreuse?"

"What, commander!" exclaimed Gerald, evidently much surprised. "Do you think it would be better to allow this wretch to marry Mlle. de Beaumesnil, when he wants her only for her money?"

"Nothing of the kind," answered the veteran, warmly. "One should always prevent a crime when one can, and if I were in your place, M. Gerald – "

"What would you do, commander?"

"I would go first to M. Macreuse, and say to him: 'You are a scoundrel, and as scoundrels should not be allowed to marry women to make them miserable all their lives, I forbid you to marry Mlle. de Beaumesnil, and I will prevent you from marrying her; I do not know her, I have no intention of marrying her myself, but I take an interest in her because she is in some danger of becoming your wife. As that, in my opinion, would be infinitely worse for her than if she were going to be bitten by a mad dog, I intend to warn her that you are worse than a mad dog.'"

"That would be doing exactly right, uncle, exactly!" cried Olivier.

But Gerald motioned him not to interrupt the veteran, who continued:

"I should then go straight to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, and say to her: 'My dear young lady, there is a certain M. Macreuse who wants to marry you for your money. He is a vile cur, and I will prove it to his face whenever and wherever you like. Take my advice; it is entirely disinterested, for I haven't the slightest idea of marrying you myself, but honest men should always put unsuspecting persons on their guard against scoundrels.' I tell you, M. Gerald, my way may be unconventional, but there might be very much worse ones."

"The course my uncle suggests, though rather rough, certainly has the merit of being eminently straightforward, you must admit, my dear Gerald," said Olivier, smilingly; "but you, who are so much better versed in the ways of the world than either of us are, probably know whether you could not achieve the same result by less violent means."

But Gerald, more and more impressed by the veteran's frankness and good sense, had listened to him very respectfully.

"Thanks, commander," he exclaimed, offering him his hand, "you and Olivier have prevented me from doing a dishonourable deed, for the danger was all the greater from the fact that I was investing it with a semblance of virtue. To make my mother the happiest of women, and prevent Mlle. de Beaumesnil from becoming the victim of a man like Macreuse, seemed a very fine thing to me at first. I was deceiving myself most abominably, for I not only gave no thought whatever to the future of this young girl whom I would probably make miserable for life, but I was yielding, though unconsciously, to the fascination of her colossal wealth."

"You are wrong about that, Gerald, I am sure."

"I am not, upon my word, Olivier. So, to save myself from further temptation, I shall return to my first resolution, viz., not to marry at all. I regret only one thing in this change of plans," added Gerald, with much feeling, "and that is the deep disappointment I shall cause my mother, though she is sure to approve my course eventually."

"But listen, Gerald," interrupted Olivier; "you should not do wrong merely to please your mother, as uncle says. Yet a mother is so kind, and it grieves one so much to see her unhappy, why should you not try to satisfy her without the sacrifice of your convictions as an honest and honourable man?"

"Good, my boy!" exclaimed the veteran. "But how is that to be done?"