"Very well, father; but I assure you that delay—"
"Not a word more on the subject," interrupted the old man, rising.
As he silently paced the room, he cast furtive glances on his son, who was thoughtfully gazing at the letter before him, with his head leaning on his hands, and his elbows supported by the table.
CHAPTER VII.
Having contemplated the letter in silence for some time, without recognizing the writing, Louis mechanically tore it open, while old Richard still continued his tireless pacing, closely observing his every movement.
Suddenly he saw him turn ghastly pale, brush his hand over his brow, as if to assure himself he was not the victim of an illusion, then read the letter once more, with ever-growing anguish expressed on his features.
The letter, written that morning by old Richard, in a disguised hand, ran as follows:
"Monsieur Louis:
"I take advantage of your absence to make a confession which I have postponed for two whole months, because I feared to cause you grief. We must renounce our projects of marriage and never see each other again.
"I cannot explain the cause of this change; but, believe me, my resolution is well taken. If I have waited until this day, the sixth of May, to tell you this, it was because I wanted ample time for reflection before announcing my determination.