“No, Miss Marguerite; I had no such idea.”
“Indeed! They walked with me as far as here; and then I said, ‘My dears, it is impossible for me to go up to Uncle Luke to-day, so I will sit down and rest, and go back alone.’ I believe the air will refresh me.”
“I am sure it will. It is so fresh and sweet up here.”
“Ye-es,” said Aunt Marguerite. “Have you seen my nephew to-day? No? Poor boy! He is in very bad spirits. Ah! Mr Leslie, I shall be very glad to see him once more as a des Vignes should be. With him placed in the position that should be his, and that engagement carried out regarding my darling Louise’s future, I could leave this world of sorrow without a sigh.”
Leslie winced, but it was not perceptible to Aunt Marguerite, who, feeling dissatisfied with the result of her shot, fired again.
“Of course it would involve losing my darling: but at my time of life, Mr Leslie, one has learned that it is one’s duty always to study self-sacrifice. The des Vignes were always a self-sacrificing family. When it was not for some one or other of their kindred it was for their king, and then for their faith. You know our old French motto, Mr Leslie?”
“I? No. I beg pardon.”
“Really? I should have thought you could not fail to see that. It is almost the only trace of our former greatness that my misguided brother—”
“Were you alluding to Mr Luke Vine?”
“No, no, no, no! To my brother, George des Vignes. Surely, Mr Leslie, you must have noted our arms upon the dining-room windows.”