"I must not outstay my welcome," he said.
"You cannot do that," said Bidaud. "Are you not happy here?"
"Too happy."
"No, one cannot be too happy," said Bidaud, in a tone of great sadness. There was that weighing on his heart which he yearned to impart to some person in whom he could confide. He had thought of it for days past, and had resolved to unbosom his sorrow to the young gentleman who had brought a new light of tenderness into the prosperous home.
His story was told. Basil learned that the father feared he had not long to live, and that he was filled with apprehension at the contemplation of Annette being left without a friend.
"You were born in Switzerland," said Basil, thoughtfully. "Is there no one connected with you in your own country into whose charge you could give Annette?"
"It is twenty years since I left my native land," said Bidaud, "and great changes must have taken place during that time."
"You left relatives there?"
"Yes, a sister--and a brother." His mention of his brother was made with evident reluctance.
"Why not write to your brother," asked Basil, "to come and receive the trust?"