Madeleine passed her hand over her eyes as if to shut out some picture of blinding brightness conjured before them by his words; and, looking up with forced serenity, said,—
"Maurice, though I cannot be your wife, do you refuse to let me take the place of a sister?—a sister who loves you with the most tender affection,—who will rejoice in your joy and share your sorrow, and look upon her own life as brighter if she brightens yours? Since it has been the will of Heaven that we should meet again before the time I proposed arrived, there is no need that we should become strangers to each other. Because I cannot be all that you desire, you will not reject such affection as I can offer you?"
"Reject it? No, rejection has only emanated from your side," he continued bitterly. "I was and am unworthy of your affection, your confidence; but what you will grant I will thankfully receive, too poor not to feel enriched even by your coldest regard."
"Will you prove that to me, Maurice?"
"Yes; how can I do so?"
"By promising that you will never have a sorrow which you do not confide to me; by promising that you will never doubt my ready sympathy; more yet,—by giving me an invaluable privilege,—one which will make me proud indeed. Do not be offended, Maurice; but—but—should you ever need means to carry out any enterprise (and you know, in this land, how many offer themselves), I would claim the privilege of being your banker, and joining in your undertaking as freely as if I were indeed your sister."
"You, Madeleine? Can you imagine that I could force myself to consent to this? You are already rich then?"
"I am becoming rich,—I have laid the foundation of wealth. But tell me that you do not reject my sisterly regard, my devotion"—
"Would he whom you love permit this devotion?"