“That would be the greater inducement to me to stand by her in her time of need.”
“Most gratifying, I am sure, Mr Leslie, and highly creditable to one of your nationality,” said Aunt Marguerite sneeringly, as she raised her glass to her eye, and gazed at him in an amused way. “Now may I ask you to leave me? My brother and my nephew are from home, and I cannot entertain you as I am sure you would wish. Good evening, Mr Leslie—good evening.”
She bowed him out with a sneering smile upon her thin lips, and Leslie hurried back towards the town.
“What shall I do?” he muttered. “Oh, that sneering old woman, how she does raise one’s gall! Poor Louise! she did look more gentle toward the last; and I don’t believe in the Frenchman of great lineage. If there is one, let’s do battle as they did of old, if he likes. What a fool I was to speak as I did just when she was so full of trouble! I must have been mad—a declaration of love, and an announcement that the poor girl’s brother was in trouble. The young idiot! The scoundrel! How I should like to have his drilling for the next five years! What shall I do? I must help him. It’s true enough, I’m afraid; and he must have the best legal help. If I had only some one to consult with. Van Heldre would have been the man.”
There was a pause as the young man thought deeply of what steps he ought to take next.
“Yes, with all his sham cynicism and silly whims, the old man is shrewd, and can help when he likes. Uncle Luke!”