"No, mamma, you are mistaken; I told you that M. d'Orbigny had only delayed so long that he might mention something certain to you. Let me see the letter, mamma. I am sure I can guess if it is good or bad by the writing. And I am sure," said Claire, looking at the letter, "that it is a kind and generous hand, accustomed to execute benevolence towards those who suffer."
"I entreat you, Claire, not to give way to vain hopes; for, if you do, I shall not have the courage to open the letter."
"My dear mother, without opening it, I can tell you almost word for word what it contains. Listen: 'Madame,—Your fate and that of your daughter are so worthy of interest, that I beg you will come to me, in case you should like to undertake the superintendence of my house.'"
"Pray, my dearest, I beseech you, do not give way to vain hopes; the disappointment would be terrible!" said Madame de Fermont, taking the letter.
"Come, dear mamma," said Claire, smiling, and excited by one of those feelings of certainty so natural to her age, "give me the letter; I have courage to read it!"
"No," said Madame de Fermont, "I will read it! It is from the Comtesse d'Orbigny."
"So much the better," replied Claire.
"We shall see." And Madame de Fermont read as follows in a trembling voice:
"'Madame:—M. the Comte d'Orbigny, who has been a great invalid for some time, could not reply to you during my absence—'"
"You see, mamma, it was no one's fault."